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Rural Jails Turn to Community Health Workers To Help the Newly Released Succeed

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Lillian Mongeau Hughes
Mon, 22 Apr 2024 09:00:00 +0000

MANTI, Utah — Garrett Clark estimates he has spent about six years in the Sanpete County Jail, a plain concrete building perched on a dusty hill just outside this small, rural town where he grew up.

He blames his addiction. He started using in middle school, and by the time he was an adult he was addicted to meth and heroin. At various points, he's done time alongside his mom, his dad, his sister, and his younger brother.

“That's all I've known my whole life,” said Clark, 31, in December.

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Clark was at the jail to pick up his sister, who had just been released. The siblings think this time will be different. They are both sober. Shantel Clark, 33, finished earning her high school diploma during her four-month stay at the jail. They have a place to live where no one is using .

And they have Cheryl Swapp, the county sheriff's new community health worker, on their side.

“She saved my life probably, for sure,” Garrett Clark said.

Swapp meets with every person booked into the county jail soon after they arrive and helps them create a plan for the day they get out.

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She makes sure everyone has a state ID card, a birth certificate, and a Social Security card so they can qualify for government , apply to , and get to treatment and probation appointments. She helps nearly everyone enroll in Medicaid and apply for housing benefits and food stamps. If they need medication to stay off drugs, she lines that up. If they need a place to stay, she finds them a bed.

Then Swapp coordinates with the jail captain to have people released directly to the treatment facility. Nobody leaves the jail without a ride and a drawstring backpack filled with items like toothpaste, a blanket, and a personalized list of job openings.

“A missing puzzle piece,” Sgt. Gretchen Nunley, who runs educational and addiction recovery programming for the jail, called Swapp.

Swapp also assesses the addiction history of everyone held by the county. More than half arrive at the jail addicted to something.

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Nationally, 63% of people booked into local jails struggle with a substance use disorder — at least six times the rate of the general population, according to the federal Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. The incidence of mental illness in jails is more than twice the rate in the general population, federal data shows. At least 4.9 million people are arrested and jailed every year, according to an analysis of 2017 data by the Prison Policy Initiative, a nonprofit organization that documents the harm of mass incarceration. Of those incarcerated, 25% are booked two or more times, the analysis found. And among those arrested twice, more than half had a substance use disorder and a quarter had a mental illness.

“We don't lock people up for being diabetic or epileptic,” said David Mahoney, a retired sheriff in Dane County, Wisconsin, who served as president of the National Sheriffs' Association in 2020-21. “The question every community needs to ask is: ‘Are we doing our responsibility to each other for locking people up for a diagnosed medical condition?'”

The idea that county sheriffs might owe it to society to offer medical and mental health treatment to people in their jails is part of a broader shift in thinking among law enforcement officials that Mahoney said he has observed during the past decade.

“Don't we have a moral and ethical responsibility as community members to address the reasons people are coming into the criminal justice system?” asked Mahoney, who has 41 years of experience in law enforcement.

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Swapp previously worked as a teacher's aide for those she calls the “behavior kids” — children who had trouble self-regulating in class. She feels her work at the jail is a way to change things for the parents of those kids. And it appears to be working.

Since the Sanpete County Sheriff's Office hired Swapp last year, recidivism has dropped sharply. In the 18 months before she began her work, 599 of the people booked into Sanpete County Jail had been there before. In the 18 months after she started, that number dropped to 237.

In most places, people are released from county jails with no coverage, no job, nowhere to live, and no plan to stay off drugs or treat their mental illness. Research shows that people newly released from incarceration face a risk of overdose that is 10 times as high as that of the general public.

Sanpete wasn't any different.

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“For seven to eight years of me being here, we'd just release people and cross our fingers,” said Jared Hill, the clinical director for Sanpete County and a counselor at the jail.

Nunley, the programming sergeant, remembers watching people released from jail walk the mile to town with nothing but the clothes they'd worn on the day they were arrested — it was known as the “walk of shame.” Swapp hates that phrase. She said no one has made the on since she started in July 2022.

Swapp's work was initially funded by a grant from the U.S. Health Resources and Services Administration, but it has proved so popular that commissioners in Sanpete County voted to use a portion of its opioid settlement money to cover the position in the future.

Swapp doesn't have formal medical or social work . She is certified by the state of Utah as a community health worker, a job that has become more common nationwide. There were about 67,000 people working as community health workers in 2022, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

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Evidence is mounting that the model of training people to help their neighbors connect to government and health care services is sound, said Aditi Vasan, a senior fellow at the Leonard Davis Institute of Health Economics at the University of Pennsylvania who has reviewed the research on the relatively new role.

The day before Swapp coordinated Shantel Clark's release, she sat with Robert Draper, a man in his 50s with long white hair and bright-blue eyes. Draper has been in and out of jail for decades. He was sober for a year and had been taking care of his ill mother. She kept getting worse. Then his daughter and her child came to help. It was all a little too much.

“I thought, if I can just go and get high, I can deal with this shit,” said Draper. “But after you've been using for 40 years, it's kinda easy to slip back in.”

He didn't blame his probation officer for throwing him back in jail when he tested positive for drugs, he said. But he thinks jail time is an overreaction to a relapse. Draper sent a note to Swapp through the jail staff asking to see her. He was hoping she could help him get out so he could be with his mom, who had just been sent to hospice. He had missed his father's death years ago because he was in jail at the time.

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Swapp listened to Draper's story without interruptions or questions. Then she asked if she could through her list with him so she would know what he needed.

“Do you have your Social Security card?”

“My card?” Draper shrugged. “I know my number.”

“Your birth certificate, you have it?”

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“Yeah, I don't know where it is.”

“Driver's license?”

“No.”

“Was it revoked?”

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“A long, long time ago,” Draper said. “DUI from 22 years ago. Paid for and everything.”

“Are you interested in getting it back?”

“Yeah!”

Swapp has some version of this conversation with every person she meets in the jail. She also runs through their history of addiction and asks them what they most need to get back on their feet.

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She told Draper she would try to get him into intensive outpatient therapy. That would involve four to five classes a and a lot of driving. He'd need his license back. She didn't make promises but said she would to his probation officer and the judge. He sighed and thanked her.

“I'm your biggest fan here,” Swapp said. “I want you to succeed. I want you to be with your mom, too.”

The federal grant that funded the launch of Sanpete's community health worker program is held by the regional health care services organization Intermountain Health. Intermountain took the idea to the county and has provided Swapp with support and training. Intermountain staff also administer the $1 million, three-year grant, which includes efforts to increase addiction recovery services in the area.

A similarly funded program in Kentucky called First Day Forward took the community health worker model a step further, using “peer support specialists” — people who have experienced the issues they are trying to help others navigate. Spokespeople from HRSA pointed to four programs, including the ones in Utah and Kentucky, that are using their grant money for people facing or serving time in local jails.

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Back in Utah, Sanpete's new jail captain, Jeff Nielsen, said people in small-town law enforcement weren't so far removed from those serving time.

“We know these people,” Nielsen said. He has known Robert Draper since middle school. “They are friends, neighbors, sometimes family. We'd rather help than lock them up and throw away the key. We'd rather help give them a good life.”

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By: Lillian Mongeau Hughes
Title: Rural Jails Turn to Community Health Workers To Help the Newly Released Succeed
Sourced From: kffhealthnews.org/news/article/utah-rural-jails-community-health-workers-prevent-recidivism/
Published Date: Mon, 22 Apr 2024 09:00:00 +0000

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The Lure of Specialty Medicine Pulls Nurse Practitioners From Primary Care

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Michelle Andrews
Fri, 17 May 2024 09:00:00 +0000

For many , seeing a nurse practitioner has become a routine part of primary care, in which these “NPs” often perform the same tasks that patients have relied on for.

But NPs in specialty care? That's not routine, at least not yet. Increasingly, though, nurse practitioners and physician assistants are joining cardiology, dermatology, and other specialty practices, broadening their skills and increasing their income.

This worries some people who track the health workforce, because current trends suggest primary care, which has counted on nurse practitioners to backstop physician shortages, soon might not be able to rely on them to the same extent.

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“They're succumbing to the same challenges that we have with physicians,” said Atul Grover, executive director of the Research and Action Institute at the Association of American Medical Colleges. The rates NPs can command in a specialty practice “are quite a bit higher” than practice salaries in primary care, he said.

When nurse practitioner programs began to proliferate in the 1970s, “at first it looked great, producing all these nurse practitioners that go to work with primary care physicians,” said Yalda Jabbarpour, director of the American Academy of Physicians' Robert Graham Center for Policy Studies. “But now only 30% are going into primary care.”

Jabbarpour was referring to the 2024 primary care scorecard by the Milbank Memorial Fund, which found that from 2016 to 2021 the proportion of nurse practitioners who worked in primary care practices hovered between 32% and 34%, even though their numbers grew rapidly. The proportion of physician assistants, also known as physician associates, in primary care ranged from 27% to 30%, the study found.

Both nurse practitioners and physician assistants are advanced practice clinicians who, in addition to graduate degrees, must complete distinct education, , and certification steps. NPs can practice without a doctor's supervision in more than two dozen states, while PAs have similar independence in only a handful of states.

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About 88% of nurse practitioners are certified in an area of primary care, according to the American Association of Nurse Practitioners. But it is difficult to track exactly how many work in primary care or in specialty practices. Unlike physicians, they're generally not required to be endorsed by a national standard-setting body to practice in specialties like oncology or cardiology, for example. The AANP declined to answer questions about its annual workforce survey or the extent to which primary care NPs are moving toward specialties.

Though data tracking the change is sparse, specialty practices are adding these advanced practice clinicians at almost the same rate as primary care practices, according to frequently cited research published in 2018.

The clearest evidence of the shift: From 2008 to 2016, there was a 22% increase in the number of specialty practices that employed nurse practitioners and physician assistants, according to that study. The increase in the number of primary care practices that employed these professionals was 24%.

Once more, the most recent projections by the Association of American Medical Colleges predict a dearth of at least 20,200 primary care physicians by 2036. There will also be a shortfall of non-primary care specialists, a deficiency of at least 10,100 surgical physicians and up to 25,000 physicians in other specialties.

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When it to the actual work performed, the lines between primary and specialty care are often blurred, said Candice Chen, associate professor of health policy and management at George Washington .

“You might be a nurse practitioner working in a gastroenterology clinic or cardiology clinic, but the scope of what you do is starting to overlap with primary care,” she said.

Nurse practitioners' salaries vary widely by location, type of facility, and experience. Still, according to data from recruiter AMN Healthcare Physician Solutions, formerly known as Merritt Hawkins, the total annual average starting compensation, including signing bonus, for nurse practitioners and physician assistants in specialty practice was $172,544 in the year that ended March 31, slightly higher than the $166,544 for those in primary care.

According to forecasts from the federal Bureau of Labor Statistics, nurse practitioner will increase faster than jobs in almost any other occupation in the decade leading up to 2032, growing by 123,600 jobs or 45%. (Wind turbine service technician is the only other occupation projected to grow as fast.) The growth rate for physician assistants is also much faster than average, at 27%. There are more than twice as many nurse practitioners as physician assistants, however: 323,900 versus 148,000, in 2022.

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To Grover, of the AAMC, numbers like this signal that there will probably be enough NPs, PAs, and physicians to meet primary care needs. At the same time, “expect more NPs and PAs to also flow out into other specialties,” he said.

When Pamela Ograbisz started working as a registered nurse 27 years ago, she worked in a cardiothoracic intensive care unit. After she became a family nurse practitioner a few years later, she found a job with a similar specialty practice, which trained her to take on a bigger role, first running their outpatient clinic, then working on the floor, and later in the intensive care unit.

If nurse practitioners want to specialize, often “the doctors mentor them just like they would with a physician residency,” said Ograbisz, now vice president of clinical operations at temporary placement recruiter LocumTenens.com.

If physician assistants want to specialize, they also can do so through mentoring, or they can receive “certificates of added qualifications” in 10 specialties to demonstrate their expertise. Most employers don't “encourage or require” these certificates, however, said Jennifer Orozco, chief medical officer at the American Academy of Physician Associates.

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There are a number of training programs for family nurse practitioners who want to develop skills in other areas.

Raina Hoebelheinrich, 40, a family nurse practitioner at a regional medical center in Yankton, South Dakota, recently enrolled in a three-semester post-master's endocrinology training program at Mount Marty University. She lives on a farm in nearby northeastern Nebraska with her husband and five sons.

Hoebelheinrich's new skills could be helpful in her current hospital job, in which she sees a lot of patients with acute diabetes, or in a clinic setting like the one in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, where she is doing her clinical endocrinology training.

Lack of access to endocrinology care in rural areas is a real problem, and many people may travel hundreds of miles to see a specialist.

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“There aren't a lot of options,” she said.

——————————
By: Michelle Andrews
Title: The Lure of Specialty Medicine Pulls Nurse Practitioners From Primary Care
Sourced From: kffhealthnews.org/news/article/nurse-practitioners-trend-primary-care-specialties/
Published Date: Fri, 17 May 2024 09:00:00 +0000

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Clean Needles Save Lives. In Some States, They Might Not Be Legal.

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Ed Mahon, Spotlight PA and Sarah Boden, WESA
Fri, 17 May 2024 09:00:00 +0000

Kim Botteicher hardly thinks of herself as a criminal.

On the main floor of a former Catholic church in Bolivar, Pennsylvania, Botteicher runs a flower shop and cafe.

In the former church's basement, she also operates a nonprofit organization focused on helping people caught up in the drug epidemic get back on their feet.

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The nonprofit, FAVOR ~ Western PA, sits in a rural pocket of the Allegheny Mountains east of Pittsburgh. Her organization's home county of Westmoreland has seen roughly 100 or more drug overdose deaths each year for the past several years, the majority involving fentanyl.

Thousands more in the region have been touched by the scourge of addiction, which is where Botteicher in.

She helps people find housing, jobs, and health care, and works with families by running support groups and explaining that substance use disorder is a disease, not a moral failing.

But she has also talked publicly about how she has made sterile syringes available to people who use drugs.

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“When that person comes in the door,” she said, “if they are covered with abscesses because they have been using needles that are dirty, or they've been sharing needles — maybe they've got hep C — we see that as, ‘OK, this is our first step.'”

Studies have identified public health benefits associated with syringe exchange services. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says these programs reduce HIV and hepatitis C infections, and that new users of the programs are more likely to enter drug treatment and more likely to stop using drugs than nonparticipants.

This harm-reduction strategy is supported by leading health groups, such as the American Medical Association, the World Health Organization, and the International AIDS Society.

But providing clean syringes could put Botteicher in legal danger. Under Pennsylvania law, it's a misdemeanor to distribute drug paraphernalia. The state's definition includes hypodermic syringes, needles, and other objects used for injecting banned drugs. Pennsylvania is one of 12 states that do not implicitly or explicitly authorize syringe services programs through statute or regulation, according to a 2023 analysis. A few of those states, but not Pennsylvania, either don't have a state drug paraphernalia law or don't include syringes in it.

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Those working on the front lines of the opioid epidemic, like Botteicher, say a reexamination of Pennsylvania's law is long overdue.

There's an urgency to the issue as well: Billions of dollars have begun flowing into Pennsylvania and other states from legal settlements with companies over their role in the opioid epidemic, and syringe services are among the eligible interventions that could be supported by that money.

The opioid settlements reached between drug companies and distributors and a coalition of state attorneys general included a list of recommendations for spending the money. Expanding syringe services is listed as one of the core strategies.

But in Pennsylvania, where 5,158 people died from a drug overdose in 2022, the state's drug paraphernalia law stands in the way.

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Concerns over Botteicher's work with syringe services recently led Westmoreland County officials to cancel an allocation of $150,000 in opioid settlement funds they had previously approved for her organization. County Commissioner Douglas Chew defended the decision by saying the county “is very risk averse.”

Botteicher said her organization had planned to use the money to hire additional recovery specialists, not on syringes. Supporters of syringe services point to the cancellation of funding as evidence of the need to change state law, especially given the recommendations of settlement documents.

“It's just a huge inconsistency,” said Zoe Soslow, who leads overdose prevention work in Pennsylvania for the public health organization Vital Strategies. “It's causing a lot of confusion.”

Though sterile syringes can be purchased from pharmacies without a prescription, handing out ones to make drug use safer is generally considered illegal — or at least in a legal gray area — in most of the state. In Pennsylvania's two largest , Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, officials have used local health powers to provide legal protection to people who operate syringe services programs.

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Even so, in Philadelphia, Mayor Cherelle Parker, who took office in January, has made it clear she opposes using opioid settlement money, or any funds, to pay for the distribution of clean needles, The Philadelphia Inquirer has reported. Parker's position signals a major shift in that city's approach to the opioid epidemic.

On the other side of the state, opioid settlement funds have had a big effect for Prevention Point Pittsburgh, a harm reduction organization. Allegheny County reported spending or committing $325,000 in settlement money as of the end of last year to support the organization's work with sterile syringes and other supplies for safer drug use.

“It was absolutely incredible to not have to fundraise every single dollar for the supplies that go out,” said Prevention Point's executive director, Aaron Arnold. “It takes a lot of energy. It pulls away from actual delivery of services when you're constantly to find out, ‘Do we have enough money to even purchase the supplies that we want to distribute?'”

In parts of Pennsylvania that lack these legal protections, people sometimes operate underground syringe programs.

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The Pennsylvania law banning drug paraphernalia was never intended to apply to syringe services, according to Scott Burris, director of the Center for Public Health Law Research at Temple University. But there have not been court cases in Pennsylvania to clarify the issue, and the failure of the to act creates a chilling effect, he said.

Carla Sofronski, executive director of the Pennsylvania Harm Reduction Network, said she was not aware of anyone having faced criminal charges for operating syringe services in the state, but she noted the threat hangs over people who do and that they are taking a “great risk.”

In 2016, the CDC flagged three Pennsylvania counties — Cambria, Crawford, and Luzerne — among 220 counties nationwide in an assessment of communities potentially vulnerable to the rapid spread of HIV and to new or continuing high rates of hepatitis C infections among people who inject drugs.

Kate Favata, a resident of Luzerne County, said she started using heroin in her late teens and wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for the support and community she found at a syringe services program in Philadelphia.

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“It kind of just made me feel like I was in a safe . And I don't really know if there was like a -to-God moment or come-to-Jesus moment,” she said. “I just wanted better.”

Favata is now in long-term recovery and works for a medication-assisted treatment program.

At clinics in Cambria and Somerset Counties, Highlands Health provides free or low-cost medical care. Despite the legal risk, the organization has operated a syringe program for several years, while also testing for infectious diseases, distributing overdose reversal medication, and offering recovery options.

Rosalie Danchanko, Highlands Health's executive director, said she hopes opioid settlement money can eventually support her organization.

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“Why shouldn't that wealth be spread around for all organizations that are working with people affected by the opioid problem?” she asked.

In February, legislation to legalize syringe services in Pennsylvania was approved by a committee and has moved forward. The administration of Gov. Josh Shapiro, a Democrat, supports the legislation. But it faces an uncertain future in the full legislature, in which Democrats have a narrow majority in the House and Republicans control the Senate.

One of the bill's lead sponsors, state Rep. Jim Struzzi, hasn't always supported syringe services. But the Republican from western Pennsylvania said that since his brother died from a drug overdose in 2014, he has come to better understand the nature of addiction.

In the committee vote, nearly all of Struzzi's Republican colleagues opposed the bill. State Rep. Paul Schemel said authorizing the “very instrumentality of abuse” crossed a line for him and “would be enabling an evil.”

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After the vote, Struzzi said he wanted to build more bipartisan support. He noted that some of his own skepticism about the programs eased only after he visited Prevention Point Pittsburgh and saw how workers do more than just hand out syringes. These types of programs connect people to resources — overdose reversal medication, wound care, substance use treatment — that can save lives and lead to recovery.

“A lot of these people are … desperate. They're alone. They're afraid. And these programs bring them into someone who cares,” Struzzi said. “And that, to me, is a step in the right direction.”

At her nonprofit in western Pennsylvania, Botteicher is hoping lawmakers take action.

“If it's something that's going to help someone, then why is it illegal?” she said. “It just doesn't make any sense to me.”

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This story was co-reported by WESA Public Radio and Spotlight PA, an independent, nonpartisan, and nonprofit newsroom producing investigative and public-service journalism that holds power to account and drives positive change in Pennsylvania.

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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This story can be republished for free (details).

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By: Ed Mahon, Spotlight PA and Sarah Boden, WESA
Title: Clean Needles Save Lives. In Some States, They Might Not Be Legal.
Sourced From: kffhealthnews.org/news/article/clean-needles-syringe-services-programs-legal-gray-area-risk-pennsylvania/
Published Date: Fri, 17 May 2024 09:00:00 +0000

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Watch: John Oliver Dishes on KFF Health News’ Opioid Settlements Series

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Fri, 17 May 2024 09:00:00 +0000

Opioid manufacturers, distributors, and retailers are paying tens of billions of dollars in restitution to settle lawsuits related to their role in the nation's overdose epidemic. A recent of “Last Tonight With John Oliver” examined how that money is being spent by and local governments across the United States.

The segment from the KFF Health “Payback: Tracking the Opioid Settlement Cash.” You can learn more about the issue and read our collection of articles by Aneri Pattani here.

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Title: Watch: John Oliver Dishes on KFF News' Opioid Settlements Series
Sourced From: kffhealthnews.org/news/article/watch-john-oliver-kff-health-news-payback-opioid-settlements-series/
Published Date: Fri, 17 May 2024 09:00:00 +0000

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