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A Doctor’s Love Letter to ‘The People’s Hospital’

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by Dan Weissmann
Mon, 03 Apr 2023 09:00:00 +0000

Could a charity hospital founded by a crusading Dutch playwright, a group of Quakers, and a judge working undercover become a model for the U.S. health care system? In this episode of the podcast “An Arm and a Leg,” host Dan Weissmann speaks with Dr. Ricardo Nuila to find out.

Nuila’s new book, The People’s Hospital: Hope and Peril in American Medicine, uses the innovative model of the Ben Taub Hospital in Houston, where he practices, to argue for a publicly funded health system in the U.S. that’s available to everybody, with or without insurance. 

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: A Doctor’s Love Letter to ‘The People’s Hospital’

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: Ben Taub Hospital is a publicly funded safety net hospital in Houston, Texas. The majority of patients don’t have insurance of any kind. 

Dr. Ricardo Nuila has been working at Ben Taub since he was an intern, a medical student. He took me on a tour.

Ricardo Nuila: I started here and, you know, literally I just did not want to leave here cuz I just, just really enjoyed my job here

Dan: He’s just published a book called “The People’s Hospital” that’s not just a love letter to the place, it’s a pitch: 

Not only is this place way, way cheaper than what we’re used to, in many ways it’s better. And it’s a model, a real alternative to what-we’re-used-to.

So, I ask him to pick ONE patient’s story from the book to tell, he picks a patient he calls Stephen. A restaurant manager, a Republican. A guy who did not expect to end up here.

But he had a giant lump on the side of his throat, and his insurance didn’t cover much. He paid cash, upfront, to get seen in a local ER. 

Ricardo Nuila: finally there was a doctor who had seen a CAT scan and said, you have tonsillar cancer, cancer, however, you don’t have, uh, insurance 

Dan: Tonsillar cancer. Cancer of the tonsils. That landed hard. So did the “however.” 

Ricardo Nuila: He felt shitty you know, that somebody could tell you cancer, but there’s nothing that we are gonna do about it because of, of how much and…

Dan: It’s like it’s too painful — or too obvious — to finish the sentence: Because of your insurance. Somebody tells Steven to try the public hospital, Ben Taub. He expects the worst. But that’s not what he finds.

Ricardo Nuila: He comes to love this place. He gives, this is like so Steven, but he, he gives gift cards to the people greeting at the door because they’re nice and they do their job well cuz they make his day,

Dan: And it’s not just that he likes the people at the door.

Ricardo Nuila: He feels like he got really good healthcare and that he also, um, thought that the price was extremely reason.

Dan: Stephen lost his insurance when he got too sick to work, and he doesn’t qualify for Medicaid. He owns a house, he’s got savings, Texas has really stringent Medicaid restrictions– so he’s paying out of pocket.

Ricardo Nuila: But his final bill is pennies of what he thought he would pay.

Dan: Stephen’s dad had gotten radiation treatment for cancer, and the sticker price was 700 thousand dollars. Stephen had gotten radiation AND chemo AND surgery — and had been hospitalized for a good while. 

His bill was 32 thousand, three hundred and seventy-eight bucks. Real money for sure, but he can pay it. And it’s less than five percent of his dad’s bill for much less extensive treatment. 

Ricardo Nuila: And the healthcare is really good. And so he’s almost proud that he’s had this experience

Dan: Steven’s become a convert. And as Ricardo Nuila walks me into a conference room, it’s clear: He hopes his book will create more converts. 

Ricardo Nuila: you start to see this model and it makes you think, can things be different in healthcare? I think that that’s an option. But we as a country haven’t thought about that. Seriously. You know?

Dan: And if it seems politically unimaginable that we could have anything like this around the country– an effective, efficient, CHEAP, publicly-funded health system– 

Well, the idea that Houston could have one, that was pretty unlikely too.

In fact, the story of how Ben Taub got here may be the most surprising story in Ricardo Nuila’s whole book. 

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 our job on this show is to take one of the most enraging, terrifying, depressing parts of American life and to bring you a show that’s entertaining, empowering and useful.

Ben Taub Hospital sits at the edge of the Texas Medical Center– that’s a giant neighborhood full of hospitals and medical schools, including some of the best in the country, like the M.D. Anderson cancer center. 

In his book, Ricardo Nuila writes about how some patients at Ben Taub can see from their rooms the gleaming buildings of Ben Taub’s neighbors. 

So when I visit, I make him show me the view. We look out from a stairwell at a glass tower, M.D. Anderson’s Sheikh Zayed building.

Ricardo Nuila: that’s glamorous. Right? you get a glimpse into the rest of the medical center here. Ben Taub sticks out, I feel like, because it’s, it’s brick versus glass. 

Dan: But as Ricardo Nuila makes clear in his book: This unglamorous brick building gets the job done. 

In addition to Steven, there’s Ebonie, whose complicated pregnancy — there’s a lot of vaginal bleeding– gets tracked more precisely than it would elsewhere: 

At other hospitals, nurses eyeball the pads that absorb that blood and note heavy, medium or light bleeding. At Ben Taub, they’ve adopted an innovative approach: weighing each pad to get an exact measurement. 

Another patient, Christian, has bounced around other systems without anybody accurately diagnosing the dire kidney problems that have kept him in pain for years. Because he didn’t have good insurance, it wasn’t worth anybody’s time. 

At Ben Taub, insurance isn’t an obstacle, 

Ricardo Nuila: We organize things, which is basically, okay, we need to focus on your kidneys right now and we need to get you to see a geneticist. And both of those things happened.

Dan: they not only diagnose him, they get him on a form of dialysis that he can manage himself at home.

It’s cheaper, and delivers better quality of life for him.

Everything at Ben Taub is cheaper. The system spends about a third as much per patient as the national average. In part, that may be because nobody earns million-dollar salaries here. 

But Ricardo Nuila makes the case over and over again that they take the time– because they have it– to make wise use of resources. 

They don’t have as many MRI machines as other hospitals. But guess what? A lot of patients don’t need MRIs. 

But Ben Taub can’t meet every need: One patient, Geronimo, needs a liver transplant, and that requires resources the hospital just doesn’t have. 

But Ricardo Nuila and his colleagues put a lot of time into wrenching him back onto Medicaid, so he can get the transplant somewhere else. They rope in a Congressman to get it done. 

Geronimo tells his mom:”I feel so important. Everyone treats me like I’m rich.” 

Ricardo Nuila: That’s what I think a lot of people really want is just the sense that the person who’s responsible for your care is thinking through the problem with you and aware that you are not having a great day and wants to deal with that situation with you. And I just felt like this environment allowed me to like, have those moments.

Dan: So who pays for this environment? It may be cheaper, but it isn’t free. 

Some patients are on Medicaid. Some are on Medicare. Some have private insurance. But the majority don’t have any insurance at all. 

Some, like Stephen, pay cash. And a lot of the rest — about a third of Ben Taub’s patients — are treated for free.

The bulk of Ben Taub’s funding comes from a special property tax in Harris County, where Houston is located. It funds a whole system called Harris Health– Ben Taub, a second hospital, and a bunch of clinics. 

And of course, none of this has always existed. 

In fact, it’s only here, like this, because of a really wild story, with two big characters. One of whom wasn’t even from Houston. He was a writer I’d never heard of, a Dutch guy named Jan de Hartog.

Ricardo Nuila: de Hartog was one of the most amazing people that you could read about. He was a Nazi resistance fighter, Dutch ship captain. 

Dan: And while he was hiding out in Denmark during the war– in between saving a few Jewish babies and running war missions in his tugboat–  

he wrote a romantic dramedy that — later became a broadway hit. And then got adapted into a Broadway musical called I Do, I Do– which, Broadway-musical nerds in the house– starred Mary Martin and Robert Preston– you know, The Music Man– and had a song that your mom might still remember. 

 (musical sounds) 

Dan: Yeah. So, interesting guy. And in the early 1960s he came to Houston to teach playwriting at a local University.  It was a big time for him. He’d just gotten married — for the third time, but this one was for keeps- and become a Quaker. 

Ricardo Nuila: And when he and his wife Marjorie come to Houston, they find that there’s all these whisperings about this charity hospital in town in Houston about how, how awful the conditions are. That the children in the maternity ward would cry all night for the, for a lack of milk, and so as part of his faith, he decides that he needs to volunteer there

Dan: When de Hartog writes about the hospital later, he describes the experience of walking in for the first time as literally mind-boggling. 

He’s like: I know what a hospital smells like. Disinfectant, maybe some fresh laundry. And I know what a slaughterhouse smells like: Blood, and shit. And the smell here is slaughterhouse. 

As he looks around, the sights are something else.

Ricardo Nuila: He sees a cockroach crawling into the tracheostomy of like a patient. He sees like people sitting in their own filth. 

Dan: He and Marjorie do not up and quit. They stick around. And then they recruit a dozen Quakers and a few society ladies to come volunteer with them, and get the Red Cross to train them.

And it’s nuts. This is a rich city. The ZOO is air conditioned. But not this hospital. 

And he starts to catch on: Why it’s so horrible.

Number one is racism. 

The hospital serves mostly Black and Brown patients. When Jan and Marjorie start volunteering, the other volunteers are all society ladies, and the whole program is set up so they don’t touch patients. DeHartog later says he asked why, and the volunteer coordinator says, Southern ladies can’t have physical contact with black people.

But she doesn’t say black people. She uses the n-word. 

 When he asks staff why public officials don’t do something about the rotten conditions, they say: What politician is going to stick up for black people? The n-word comes up again. 

And– de Hartog doesn’t make this connection, but it seems pretty on the nose: The hospital itself is named after Jefferson Davis, who led the Confederacy in the Civil War. 

But there’s also a political mechanism for institutionalizing this neglect, without ever having to acknowledge the role of racism: 

No one particular political entity — no one particular political leader– is responsible for the public hospital, financially. The city of Houston and Harris County are each supposed to kick in HALF. So it doesn’t belong to either of them. Here’s de Hartog describing the city-county dynamic in a lecture he gave many years later. 

Jan de Hartog: And they were continuously at each other’s throats. The one said, you don’t pay enough. The other said, but you don’t. And they went back and forth

Dan: The top official for Harris County actually has the title County Judge. At that time, this was a guy named Bill Elliott. 

And you’ll hear in this clip from a local newscast, he wasn’t exactly reaching for the bill. Here he is, explaining why the some problem with the hospital is actually the CITY’s fault. 

Judge Bill Elliott: it’s absolutely ridiculous, uh, to say that, uh, this is a responsibility and this is the fault of Harris County.

Dan: And the city? At least one.council member is calling for a budget cut. 

Which really pisses de Hartog off. 

And de Hartog actually loves the city. It’s an exciting place. It’s booming– growing super-fast. And it’s not just an oil town. 

Ricardo Nuila: Houston at that time was the home of NASA.

NASA narrator: Future manned space flight missions to the moon and perhaps the planets will be commanded from this control room of the Mission Control Center at NASA’s Manned Spacecraft Center,

Ricardo Nuila: It had built this Astrodome, it was the city of the future. 

Dan: The Astrodome– you know, a sports stadium WITH AIR CONDITIONING. . 

Astrodome Narrator: A fully enclosed building, large enough for any sport convention show or conclave with constant temperature and humidity independent of outside weather,

Dan: CBS News does a report about the booming city: NASA, the oil wealth, the Astrodome. And de Hartog is a main character– talking about how much he loves the town.

Jan de Hartog:  it is a city of, a city of unlimited opportunities. It’s an immensely exciting town, and you feel that anything is possible, 

Dan: It wraps up with Walter Cronkite talking about how everybody in town is absolutely nuts about football.

Walter Cronkite: Their brand of football is like their brand of city and brand of life. Play wide open. Take a chance, try anything. Above all, do it with zest and do it big. 

Dan: Oh, and there’s this OTHER thing Houston is really becoming known for. 

Cutting edge medicine. For twenty years, the city’s been building the Texas Medical Center — that giant campus where more than a dozen hospitals and med schools now operate right on top of each other. Baylor College of Medicine actually moved from Dallas to Houston to be part of it. 

Ricardo Nuila: Houston is a really deeply medical city. And at that time they’re all working on extraordinary things

Dan: Yeah, in 1964, while Jan de Hartog is witnessing the suffering at the charity hospital, Dr. Michael deBakey is performing the world’s first coronary artery bypass at a private hospital in town. 

But the medical establishment were not allies. Jefferson Davis hospital, on the outskirts of town, was about to be replaced by a new building in the Texas Medical Center. 

But the Medical Society– the local doctors’ association — hadn’t wanted the charity hospital as a neighbor. They’d actually put up a ballot initiative to keep the new building at the old site. 

Medical Society Voice-Over: you the taxpayer, will pay the extra cost That’s why your doctor recommends you vote for the new hospital to remain at its present site. 

Dan: It hadn’t worked, but along with the budget cuts, officials were now talking about DELAYING the charity hospital’s move to the new building, which had just been completed. De Hartog and his friends, smell a rat. 

They think the powers that be are actually going to sell the new building in the Medical Center to some other hospital that wants in. This has been a public conversation.

Jan de Hartog: There had been offers to buy it and they wanted to wait for the highest bidder

Ricardo Nuila: He writes a series of op-eds for the Houston Chronicle that start to get press, not just in Houston, but around the country and in fact around the world. 

Dan: He describes the awful things he’s seen. And he appeals to Houstonians’ sense of pride in their bustling, futuristic city. A city he loves, too. Here’s how his first op-ed ends…

Jan de Hartog: I cannot believe that it is the will of the citizens of Houston, that our growing medical center rightly becoming famous all over the. Shall be allowed to harbor the cancerous sore of man’s inhumanity to man. It would turn the entire center planned as Houston’s glory into Houston’s shame. 

Dan: Even just that first op ed made a lot of noise.

Jan de Hartog: the bomb exploded and the national magazines and newspapers and TV zeroed in on the hospital to find out what was going on, 

Dan: … and immediately, the hospital DOES move into its new home in the Medical Center. But the funding issue isn’t solved. 

So de Hartog keeps pushing. 

Ricardo Nuila: He writes a book called “The Hospital” 

Dan: He goes to churches around town, synagogues, everywhere he can, recruiting hundreds of volunteers. 

But there’s no political progress — and conditions at the hospital actually get worse. Key nurses get burned out and quit. Things go to hell.

In a harrowing diary entry, he writes about full bedpans left on tables next to trays of food. About a patient crying out for help, and hearing back “Shut up!” 

Jan de Hartog: Never before had I realized to this extent, the depth of our damnation, and at that deepest moment of desperation, when we knew nothing could be done, nothing would change for the simple reason that

Jan de Hartog: those who had the fate of the hospital in their hands were not there. Mayor Welsh didn’t work there. Uh, commissioner Bill Elliot Judge, the county judge did not work there. 

Dan: But THEN, there’s a turn. Somebody shows up. That’s right after this.

This episode of An Arm and a Leg is produced in partnership with Kaiser Health News. That’s a non-profit newsroom about health care in America. KHN is not affiliated with the giant health care player Kaiser Permanente. We’ll have more information about KHN at the end of this episode.

So, Jan de Hartog keeps slogging away. 

He gives a talk at a Baptist church– he reads that diary entry, the one with the bedpans, and the absence of Judge Elliott and other leaders.

And at first he thinks he didn’t go over so big. Nobody even raises their hand to volunteer. 

But then it happens. 

Jan de Hartog: When, uh, we were about to leave, a man turned up with a baby on his hip who said, uh, do you train people at night?

Dan: And the guy seems to be looking around, trying to make sure nobody’s listening. De Hartog tells the guy, yeah, we could do that…

Jan de Hartog: He said, I mean, a dead of night without anybody seeing. 

Dan: De Hartog’s like, “um, sure, I guess. Why, though?” 

Jan de Hartog: He said, well, I am Judge Elliot, 

Dan: Judge Elliott. The county judge. Probably the most powerful politician in town. That’s who wants to volunteer. In secret. Without anybody seeing. He says to de Hartog

Jan de Hartog: I cannot do it as a judge, but I must do it as a man. And that was the moment that the whole damn thing changed.. 

Dan: Because Judge Bill Elliott followed through.

Ricardo Nuila: He trains himself in a clandestine manner to be an orderly, at night, and he verifies everything that de Hartog has said. 

Dan: de Hartog actually oversees the judge’s final practical exam, where Bill Elliott tends to an African-American man named Willie Small. 

Jan de Hartog: the judge with his thermometer went and put his hand on Willie’s shoulder and said, Mr. Small, sir, I’d like to take your temperature to hear that, to hear a southern judge, , say “Mr. Small, sir” 

Dan: It was a symbolic moment. The judge had to touch, had to defer to, a Black man. So not only had the judge now seen everything, he took responsibility for what he had seen. 

There’s a proposal for a county-wide property tax, to fund what’s called a Hospital District. Now there’s a referendum, and Elliott backs it all the way.

Jan de Hartog: and we all waited with baited breaths for the outcome. And it was no

Dan: Yeah. The referendum fails. And as de Hartog tells it, once it does, a real backlash starts to build. It gets personal.

Jan de Hartog: those who had resented our presence from the very beginning became vocal. Margie and I, were called communists

Ricardo Nuila: De Hartog just would not flinch. I mean, he and his wife’s lives were threatened. 

Dan: Also, somebody threw a bag of excrement at their door. 

Eventually, de Hartog says the Red Cross, which was training and supervising volunteers at the hospital, came to him and Marjorie and said, “It might be better for us if you left town for a while.” 

They did — went on to all kinds of adventures. 

Meanwhile, Bill Elliott kept pushing, and keeps pulling in allies– including, eventually, the Medical Society. 

Ricardo Nuila: he rallies them to get behind it.

Dan: He gets the question on the ballot AGAIN later that same year. And it passes in November 1965. 

It’s a big moment. 

Ricardo Nuila:  What’s also interesting is that it’s forgotten. Something that I’ve gleaned from all this is that you know, people will forget and you have to remind them. 

Dan:  And while we’re remembering: In 1965, the whole country is making some big commitments to health care for a lot of people. President Lyndon Johnson signs Medicare and Medicaid into law in July of that year.

It’s probably also worth noting that Medicare and Medicaid help make Ben Taub possible: About a third of the hospital’s patients are on one or the other. It’s a minority of patients, but it’s many millions of dollars of funding. 

The 1960s were a notoriously divisive time. And so is this. 

Ricardo Nuila doesn’t ignore today’s political polarization — or how that polarization makes it hard to imagine a national conversation about creating a different health care system. 

Or the role that doctors have historically played in resisting that conversation.

It’s part of his story. His family story. And in a book about a place where a lot of sad things do happen, this may be the toughest one.

Ricardo Nuila: I was born into a family of doctors and my dad in many ways was a hero to me. I saw how much pride he took in his work of being a doctor 

Dan: But over time– as insurance companies got tougher to deal with– the business side of running a medical practice looked a lot less apealing. 

Ricardo Nuila: . He had to hire more and more staff. He hired his mother, my grandmother, who is, uh, the type of person not to back down from Chicago, you know, . And so, her job was to be on the insurance companies to make sure that they wouldn’t, screw him out of money.

Dan: His dad turned away patients who didn’t have insurance. His dad growled and grumbled– about insurance companies, and about patients who didn’t have money to pay. 

When Ricardo finished college and got into medical school, he put off starting for two years. What he sees as his dad’s life in the business of health care is not appealing.

Ricardo Nuila: the grind wears on him, you know? The fighting with the insurance companies

Dan: I mean in the book, your dad is a bit of a stand-in for . For doctors as a doctoring, as profession and the, and the way in which doctors get alienated from medicine. 

Ricardo Nuila: yeah, he is a stand in a bit for doctors. And it’s gonna be, I think the doctors have a lot to say about how healthcare goes in America,

Ricardo Nuila: And unfortunately, the history shows that they haven’t been a great piece of that, at least as far as universal healthcare is concerned. 

Dan: This becomes part of Ricardo’s story with his dad. Dad invites him to form a family practice. Ricardo chooses Ben Taub. And over the years, it becomes clear: They’re on opposite sides of a political divide. There are painful conversations, and then they go months without speaking. 

Ricardo Nuila: that’s how deep politics run, you know, it’s really, it’s really difficult when you overlay like politics onto like a family dynamic,

Ricardo Nuila: It just felt like he was like totally on board with this idea that, you know, healthcare is something that is earned and healthcare is something that people, if you can’t afford it, you don’t deserve it. Is what I heard from what he was saying. 

Dan: is your dad an ideal reader of the book? Is your dad kind of who the person you wanna make that case to? 

Ricardo Nuila: That’s really interesting.

Ricardo Nuila: I would say this, that, I did not write this to preach to the choir for sure.

Dan: But he’s not sure his dad would actually pick up a book like this.

Ricardo Nuila: It’s just because I know my dad, he, my dad’s the type of person who reads John Grisham on a beach, you know? So I’m not a hundred percent sure if he would pick up this book, you know?

Dan: Unless, say, his son wrote it. Ricardo does expect his dad to read The People’s Hospital. And even if he doesn’t agree with everything his son has written, Ricardo thinks his dad will be proud.

Ricardo Nuila: I can tell you now as a, as a father, , it’s not clear that your kids are gonna come out Okay. . You know what I mean? I’m just saying that like he has reason to be proud just because I’m a, a living and breathing person right now, you know?

Ricardo Nuila: And I’m, I’m working in as a doctor. So I, I feel, I feel good for him. 

Ricardo Nuila: And I think that he’s probably very happy that I wrote about medicine cuz he loves medicine.

Dan: The last chapter of “The People’s Hospital” is called “faith” And in it, Ricardo Nuila describes a daily ritual that he says keeps him grounded. It starts with passing a plaque on his way in. Of course I have him show it to me. 

Ricardo Nuila: I park like right over there, .

Ricardo Nuila: I come in here and I just look at, look at this every time. 

Dan: So, and describe what we’re seeing here.

Ricardo Nuila: Well, we’re seeing, a plaque that, talks about when this hospital was founded, and the people who constructed the building. And there’s also the, I forgot this is, this is bad of me, but I forgot the name.

Dan: the snake around the stick?  

Ricardo Nuila: I’m in big trouble now because I’m on the Caduceus Caduceus. I, it’s the Cadus. Yeah. 

Ricardo Nuila: And it’s just a reminder, you know, that we have this structure in place to help care for people who don’t have, uh, the means and that, and 

Dan: that people decided to put this building here. Yeah. 

Ricardo Nuila: Exactly. It’s a community effort.

Dan: Ricardo Nuila writes that he sees that community as he walks from that plaque to his desk– all the co-workers, in every kind of job, doing their best. 

And this is the faith that he says gets affirmed— reading from the book here: 

If someone is suffering and there is the capacity within the community to help, in a way that doesn’t harm anyone else, then we not only owe it to that person, we owe it to ourselves to help. 

Whatever your politics are, I think that’s pretty great. 

Dr. Ricardo Nuila practices at Ben Taub Hospital. He’s associate professor of Medicine, Medical Ethics and Health Policy at Baylor College of Medicine. His book is called “The People’s Hospital.”

Honestly there’s a lot in this book, — more patient stories, more family stories, a very deft summary of a hundred years of health care economics and politics.

I’ll tell you: reading this book, I was reminded of an idea I’ve had before.  That it might be cool someday to convene a kind of “Arm and a Leg” book club. Because I’d like to have someone to talk with about a book like this– like maybe you. 

Right now, that’s just an idea. The how would take a LOT of figuring out.  

But I’m curious how that idea sounds to you. You can let me know at Arm and a Leg show dot com, slash contact.

I mean, that’s always a good place to send ideas and stories and questions— so many of our best episodes come from you.

And I’m curious what you think about this virtual book club idea. If you’ve taken part in something like this, or helped to organize it, I’d love to hear how it went.

That’s arm and a leg show dot com, slash contact.

Next time on An Arm and a Leg: A woman named Lisa French asked her hospital what her surgery would cost her. They said, with your insurance, about thirteen hundred bucks.

They expected about 55 thousand more from insurance. 

They got 75 thousand. But then they wanted more. 229 thousand more. They wanted it from Lisa French, and they sued her for it.

After eight years, the case finally got resolved last June. Lisa French won!

The case has a LOT to teach us about our legal rights. 

That’s next time on An Arm and a Leg.

Till then, take care of yourself.

This episode of An Arm and a Leg was produced by me, Dan Weissmann, with help from Emily Pisacreta, and edited by Afi Yellow-Duke.

The recording of Jan de Hartog’s lecture is courtesy of the Baylor College of Medicine Archives. 

The audio of Bill Elliott is from a KHOU-TV newscast, thanks to the Texas Archive of the Moving Image.

Big thanks to the archivists who helped us find some of the tape for this episode! 

That includes Emily Vinson at the University of Houston library 

Matt Richardson and Sandra Yates at the Texas Medical Center Archives

And David Olmos at the Baylor College of Medicine archives. 

Daisy Rosario is our consulting managing producer. Adam Raymonda is our audio wizard.  Our music is by Dave Winer and Blue Dot Sessions. 

Gabrielle Healy is our managing editor for audience. She edits the First Aid Kit Newsletter. 

Bea Bosco is our consulting director of operations. Sarah Ballema is our operations manager. 

This season of an arm and a leg is a co production with Kaiser health news. That’s a nonprofit news service about healthcare in America, an editorially-independent program of the Kaiser family foundation. 

KHN is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente, the big healthcare outfit. They share an ancestor: The 20th century industrialist Henry J Kaiser. When he died, he left half his money to the foundation that later created Kaiser health news.

You can learn more about him and Kaiser health news at arm and a leg show dot com slash Kaiser. 

Zach Dyer is senior audio producer at KHN. He is editorial liaison to this show. 

Thanks to Public Narrative — That’s a Chicago-based group that helps journalists and non-profits tell better stories– for serving as our fiscal sponsor, allowing us to accept tax-exempt donations. You can learn more about Public Narrative at www dot public narrative dot org. 

And thanks to everybody who supports this show financially. 

If you haven’t yet, we’d love for you to join us. The place for that is arm and a leg show dot com, slash support.

Thank you!

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

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By: Dan Weissmann
Title: A Doctor’s Love Letter to ‘The People’s Hospital’
Sourced From: khn.org/news/podcast/a-doctors-love-letter-to-the-peoples-hospital/
Published Date: Mon, 03 Apr 2023 09:00:00 +0000

Kaiser Health News

As Federal Health Grants Shrink, Memory Cafes Help Dementia Patients and Their Caregivers

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kffhealthnews.org – Lydia McFarlane, WVIA – 2025-06-10 04:00:00


Rob Kennedy, diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s, attends a memory cafe twice monthly in Clarks Summit, Pennsylvania. These cafes, found nationwide, provide social support for people with cognitive impairment and their caregivers through low-cost activities like trivia and crafts. Kennedy credits the gatherings with giving him purpose and easing isolation. With dementia cases rising, memory cafes offer affordable community-based relief, especially as federal health funding faces cuts. Wisconsin leads the nation in memory cafes, supported by grassroots efforts and state dementia care networks. The model emphasizes hospitality and community, benefiting both patients and caregivers by fostering connection and reducing stress.


Rob Kennedy mingled with about a dozen other people in a community space in Clarks Summit, Pennsylvania.

The room, decorated with an under-the-sea theme, had a balloon arch decked out with streamers meant to look like jellyfish and a cloud of clear balloons mimicking ocean bubbles.

Kennedy comes to this memory cafe twice a month since being diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s disease in his late 50s.

Everyone here has a degree of memory loss or is a caregiver for someone with memory loss.

Attendees colored on worksheets with an underwater theme. They drank coffee and returned to the breakfast bar for seconds on pastries.

A quick round of trivia got everyone’s minds working.

“We start out with just little trivia — many of us cannot answer any of the questions,” Kennedy said with a laugh.

“We all have a good time going around,” he added. “You know, we all try to make it fun.”

The northeastern Pennsylvania memory cafe Kennedy attends is one of more than 600 around the country, according to Dementia Friendly America. The gatherings for people with cognitive impairment and their caregivers are relatively cheap and easy to run — often the only expense is a small rental fee for the space.

As state and local health departments nationwide try to make sense of what the potential loss of $11 billion of federal health funding will mean for the services they can offer their communities, memory cafe organizers believe their work may become even more important.

Losing Memory, and Other Things, Too

Kennedy’s diagnosis led him to retire, ending a decades-long career as a software engineer at the University of Scranton.

He recommends memory cafes to other people with dementia and their families.

“If they’re not coming to a place like this, they’re doing themselves a disservice. You got to get out there and see people that are laughing.”

The memory cafes he attends happen twice a month. They have given him purpose, Kennedy said, and help him cope with negative emotions around his diagnosis.

“I came in and I was miserable,” Kennedy said. “I come in now and it’s like, it’s family, it’s a big, extended family. I get to meet them. I get to meet their partners. I get to meet their children. So, it’s really nice.”

More than 6 million people in the U.S. have been diagnosed with some form of dementia. The diagnosis can be burdensome on relationships, particularly with family members who are the primary caregivers.

A new report from the Alzheimer’s Association found that 70% of caregivers reported that coordinating care is stressful. Socializing can also become more difficult after diagnosis.

“One thing I have heard again and again from people who come to our memory cafe is ‘all of our friends disappeared,’” said Beth Soltzberg, a social worker at Jewish Family and Children’s Service of Greater Boston, where she directs the Alzheimer’s and related dementia family support program.

The inclusion of caregivers is what distinguishes memory cafes from other programs that serve people with cognitive impairment, like adult day care. Memory cafes don’t offer formal therapies. At a memory cafe, having fun together and being social supports the well-being of participants. And that support is for the patient and their caregiver — because both can experience social isolation and distress after a diagnosis.

A 2021 study published in Frontiers in Public Health indicated that even online memory cafes during the pandemic provided social support for both patients and their family members.

“A memory cafe is a cafe which recognizes that some of the clients here may have cognitive impairment, some may not,” said Jason Karlawish, a geriatrics professor at the University of Pennsylvania’s Perelman School of Medicine and the co-director of the Penn Memory Center.

Karlawish regularly recommends memory cafes to his patients, in part because they benefit caregivers as well.

“The caregiver-patient dyad, I find often, has achieved some degree of connection and enjoyment in doing things together,” Karlawish said. “For many, that’s a very gratifying experience, because dementia does reshape relationships.”

“That socialization really does help ease the stress that they feel from being a caregiver,” said Kyra O’Brien, a neurologist who also teaches at Penn’s Perelman School of Medicine. “We know that patients have better quality of life when their caregivers are under less stress.”

An Affordable Way To Address a Growing Problem

As the population grows older, the number of available family caregivers is decreasing, according to the AARP Public Policy Institute. The report found that the number of potential caregivers for an individual 80 or older will decrease significantly by 2050.

In 2024, the Alzheimer’s Association issued a report projecting a jump in dementia cases in the U.S. from an estimated 6.9 million people age 65 or older currently living with Alzheimer’s disease to 13.8 million people by 2060. It attributed this increase primarily to the aging of the baby boom generation, or those born between 1946 and 1964.

As cases of memory loss are projected to rise, the Trump administration is attempting to cut billions in health spending. Since memory cafes don’t rely on federal dollars, they may become an even more important part of the continuum of care for people with memory loss and their loved ones.

“We’re fighting off some pretty significant Medicaid cuts at the congressional level,” said Georgia Goodman, director of Medicaid policy for LeadingAge, a national nonprofit network of services for people as they age. “Medicaid is a program that doesn’t necessarily pay for memory cafes, but thinking about ensuring that the long-term care continuum and the funding mechanisms that support it are robust and remain available for folks is going to be key.”

The nonprofit MemoryLane Care Services operates two memory cafes in Toledo, Ohio. They’re virtually free to operate, because they take place in venues that don’t require payment, according to Salli Bollin, the executive director.

“That really helps from a cost standpoint, from a funding standpoint,” Bollin said.

One of the memory cafes takes place once a month at a local coffee shop. The other meets at the Toledo Museum of Art. MemoryLane Care Services provides the museum employees with training in dementia sensitivity so they can lead tours for the memory cafe participants.

The memory cafe that Rob Kennedy attends in Pennsylvania costs about $150 a month to run, according to the host organization, The Gathering Place.

“This is a labor of love,” said board member Paula Baillie, referring to the volunteers who run the memory cafe. “The fact that they’re giving up time — they recognize that this is important.”

The monthly budget goes toward crafts, books, coffee, snacks, and some utilities for the two-hour meetings. Local foundations provide grants that help cover those costs.

Even though memory cafes are inexpensive and not dependent on federal funding, they could face indirect obstacles because of the Trump administration’s recent funding cuts.

Organizers worry the loss of federal funds could negatively affect the host institutions, such as libraries and other community spaces.

Memory Cafe Hot Spot: Wisconsin

At least 39 states have hosted memory cafes recently, according to Dementia Friendly America. Wisconsin has the most — more than 100.

The state has a strong infrastructure focused on memory care, which should keep its memory cafes running regardless of what is happening at the federal level, according to Susan McFadden, a professor emerita of psychology at the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh. She co-founded the Fox Valley Memory Project, which oversees 14 memory cafes.

“They’ve operated on the grassroots, they’ve operated on pretty small budgets and a lot of goodwill,” she said.

Since 2013, Wisconsin has also had a unique network for dementia care, with state-funded dementia care specialists for each county and federally recognized tribe in Wisconsin. The specialists help connect individuals with cognitive impairment to community resources, bolstering memory cafe attendance.

McFadden first heard about memory cafes in 2011, before they were popular in the United States. She was conducting research on memory and teaching courses on aging.

McFadden reached out to memory cafes in the United Kingdom, where the model was already popular and well connected. Memory cafe organizers invited her to visit and observe them in person, so she planned a trip overseas with her husband.

Their tour skipped over the typical tourist hot spots, taking them to more humble settings.

“We saw church basements and senior center dining rooms and assisted living dining rooms,” she said. “That, to me, is really the core of memory cafes. It’s hospitality. It’s reaching out to people you don’t know and welcoming them, and that’s what they did for us.”

After her trip, McFadden started applying for grants and scouting locations that could host memory cafes in Wisconsin.

She opened her first one in Appleton, Wisconsin, in 2012, just over a year after her transformative trip to the U.K.

These days, she points interested people to a national directory of memory cafes hosted by Dementia Friendly America. The organization’s Memory Cafe Alliance also offers training modules — developed by McFadden and her colleague Anne Basting — to help people establish cafes in their own communities, wherever they are.

“They’re not so hard to set up; they’re not expensive,” McFadden said. “It doesn’t require an act of the legislature to do a memory cafe. It takes community engagement.”

This article is part of a partnership with NPR and WVIA.

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).

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.

Subscribe to KFF Health News’ free Morning Briefing.

This article first appeared on KFF Health News and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

The post As Federal Health Grants Shrink, Memory Cafes Help Dementia Patients and Their Caregivers appeared first on kffhealthnews.org



Note: The following A.I. based commentary is not part of the original article, reproduced above, but is offered in the hopes that it will promote greater media literacy and critical thinking, by making any potential bias more visible to the reader –Staff Editor.

Political Bias Rating: Center-Left

This content focuses on community health and social support programs for individuals with dementia, highlighting concerns about federal funding cuts under the Trump administration, which is a Republican-led government. The article advocates for social programs and notes the potential negative impact of reduced funding on vulnerable populations, aligning it moderately with center-left perspectives that prioritize government-supported social services while maintaining a generally neutral and informative tone.

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In a Dusty Corner of California, Trump’s Threatened Cuts to Asthma Care Raise Fears

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kffhealthnews.org – Miranda Green – 2025-06-06 04:00:00


Esther Bejarano’s son developed asthma likely triggered by pesticides near their home in California’s Imperial Valley, a region with severe air pollution and high childhood asthma rates. Bejarano now works with Comite Civico del Valle, educating communities on asthma management. However, programs like this face cuts due to federal layoffs and budget reductions under the Trump administration, risking increased asthma emergencies, especially in low-income and minority communities disproportionately affected by environmental hazards. The CDC’s National Asthma Control Program, which has saved lives and healthcare costs, is threatened with closure, endangering vital education, data collection, and prevention efforts nationwide.


Esther Bejarano’s son was 11 months old when asthma landed him in the hospital. She didn’t know what had triggered his symptoms — neither she nor her husband had asthma — but she suspected it was the pesticides sprayed on the agricultural fields near her family’s home.

Pesticides are a known contributor to asthma and are commonly used where Bejarano lives in California’s Imperial Valley, a landlocked region that straddles two counties on the U.S.-Mexico border and is one of the main producers of the nation’s winter crops. It also has some of the worst air pollution in the nation and one of the highest rates of childhood asthma emergency room visits in the state, according to data collected by the California Department of Public Health.

Bejarano has since learned to manage her now-19-year-old son’s asthma and works at Comite Civico del Valle, a local rights organization focused on environmental justice in the Imperial Valley. The organization trains health care workers to educate patients on proper asthma management, enabling them to avoid hospitalization and eliminate triggers at home. The course is so popular that there’s a waiting list, Bejarano said.

But the group’s Asthma Management Academy program and similar initiatives nationwide face extinction with the Trump administration’s mass layoffs, grant cancellations, and proposed budget cuts at the Department of Health and Human Services and the Environmental Protection Agency. Asthma experts fear the cumulative impact of the reductions could result in more ER visits and deaths, particularly for children and people in low-income communities — populations disproportionately vulnerable to the disease.

“Asthma is a preventive condition,” Bejarano said. “No one should die of asthma.”

Asthma can block airways, making it hard to breathe, and in severe cases can cause death if not treated quickly. Nearly 28 million people in the U.S. have asthma, and about 10 people still die every day from the disease, according to the Asthma and Allergy Foundation of America.

In May, the White House released a budget proposal that would permanently shutter the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s National Asthma Control Program, which was already gutted by federal health department layoffs in April. It’s unclear whether Congress will approve the closure.

Last year, the program allotted $33.5 million to state-administered initiatives in 27 states, Puerto Rico, and Washington, D.C., to help communities with asthma education. The funding is distributed in four-year grant cycles, during which the programs receive up to $725,000 each annually.

Comite Civico del Valle’s academy in Southern California, a clinician workshop in Houston, and asthma medical management training in Allentown, Pennsylvania — ranked the most challenging U.S. city to live in with asthma — are among the programs largely surviving on these grants. The first year of the current grant cycle ends Aug. 31, and it’s unknown whether funding will continue beyond then.

Data suggests that the CDC’s National Asthma Control Program has had a significant impact. The agency’s own research has shown that the program saves $71 in health care costs for every $1 invested. And the asthma death rate decreased 44% between the 1999 launch of the program and 2021, according to the American Lung Association.

“Losing support from the CDC will have devastating impacts on asthma programs in states and communities across the country, programs that we know are improving the lives of millions of people with asthma,” said Anne Kelsey Lamb, director of the Public Health Institute’s Regional Asthma Management and Prevention program. “And the thing is that we know a lot about what works to help people keep their asthma well controlled, and that’s why it’s so devastating.”

The Trump administration cited cost savings and efficiency in its April announcement of the cuts to HHS. Requests for comment from the White House and CDC about cuts to federal asthma and related programs were not answered.

The Information Wars

Fresno, in the heart of California’s Central Valley, is one of the country’s top 20 “asthma capitals,” with high rates of asthma and related emergencies and deaths. It’s home to programs that receive funding through the National Asthma Control Program. Health care professionals there also rely on another aspect of the program that is under threat if it’s shuttered: countrywide data.

The federal asthma program collects information on asthma rates and offers a tool to study prevalence and rates of death from the disease, see what populations are most affected, and assess state and local trends. Asthma educators and health care providers worry that the loss of these numbers could be the biggest impact of the cuts, because it would mean a dearth of information crucial to forming educated recommendations and treatment plans.

“How do we justify the services we provide if the data isn’t there?” said Graciela Anaya, director of community health at the Central California Asthma Collaborative in Fresno.

Mitchell Grayson, chair of the Asthma and Allergy Foundation’s Medical Scientific Council, is similarly concerned.

“My fear is we’re going to live in a world that is frozen in Jan. 19, 2025, as far as data, because that was the last time you know that this information was safely collected,” he said.

Grayson, an allergist who practices in Columbus, Ohio, said he also worries government websites will delete important recommendations that asthma sufferers avoid heavy air pollution, get annual flu shots, and get covid-19 vaccines.

Disproportionate Risk

Asthma disproportionately affects communities of color because of “historic structural issues,” said Lynda Mitchell, CEO of the Asthma and Allergy Network, citing a higher likelihood of living in public housing or near highways and other pollution sources.

She and other experts in the field said cuts to diversity initiatives across federal agencies, combined with the rollback of environmental protections, will have an outsize impact on these at-risk populations.

In December, the Biden administration awarded nearly $1.6 billion through the EPA’s Community Change Grants program to help disadvantaged communities address pollution and climate threats. The Trump administration moved to cut this funding in March. The grant freezes, which have been temporarily blocked by the courts, are part of a broader effort by the Trump EPA to eliminate aid to environmental justice programs across the agency.

In 2023 and 2024, the National Institutes of Health’s Climate Change and Health Initiative received $40 million for research, including on the link between asthma and climate change. The Trump administration has moved to cut that money. And a March memo essentially halted all NIH grants focused on diversity, equity, and inclusion, or DEI — funds many of the asthma programs serving low-income communities rely on to operate.

On top of those cuts, environmental advocates like Isabel González Whitaker of Memphis, Tennessee, worry that the proposed reversals of environmental regulations will further harm the health of communities like hers that are already reeling from the effects of climate change. Shelby County, home to Memphis, recently received an “F” on the American Lung Association’s annual report card for having so many high ozone days. González Whitaker is director of EcoMadres, a program within the national organization Moms for Clean Air that advocates for better environmental conditions for Latino communities.

“Urgent asthma needs in communities are getting defunded at a time when I just see things getting worse in terms of deregulation,” said González Whitaker, who took her 12-year-old son to the hospital because of breathing issues for the first time this year. “We’re being assaulted by this data and science, which is clearly stating that we need to be doing better around preserving the regulations.”

Back in California’s Imperial Valley — where the majority-Hispanic, working-class population surrounds California’s largest lake, the Salton Sea — is an area called Bombay Beach. Bejarano calls it the “forgotten community.” Homes there lack clean running water, because of naturally occurring arsenic in the groundwater, and residents frequently experience a smell like rotten eggs blowing off the drying lakebed, exposing decades of pesticide-tinged dirt.

In 2022, a 12-year-old girl died in Bombay Beach after an asthma attack. Bejarano said she later learned that the girl’s school had recommended that she take part in Comite Civico del Valle’s at-home asthma education program. She said the girl was on the waiting list when she died.

“It hit home. Her death showed the personal need we have here in Imperial County,” Bejarano said. “Deaths are preventable. Asthma is reversible. If you have asthma, you should be able to live a healthy life.”

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.

Subscribe to KFF Health News’ free Morning Briefing.

This article first appeared on KFF Health News and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

The post In a Dusty Corner of California, Trump’s Threatened Cuts to Asthma Care Raise Fears appeared first on kffhealthnews.org



Note: The following A.I. based commentary is not part of the original article, reproduced above, but is offered in the hopes that it will promote greater media literacy and critical thinking, by making any potential bias more visible to the reader –Staff Editor.

Political Bias Rating: Center-Left

This content emphasizes environmental justice, public health protections, and critiques of budget cuts under the Trump administration, framing them as harmful to vulnerable and low-income communities. It highlights the negative impact of deregulation and funding reductions on asthma programs, particularly those benefiting marginalized groups. While it maintains a factual and measured tone, its focus on environmental regulation, public health funding, and social equity aligns with center-left perspectives that prioritize government intervention to address health disparities and environmental issues.

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Trump Decried Crime in America, Then Gutted Funding for Gun Violence Prevention

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kffhealthnews.org – Bram Sable-Smith – 2025-06-05 04:00:00


President Trump’s 2024 administration cut about \$500 million in Justice Department grants supporting public safety and gun violence prevention programs. Among those affected were hospital-based violence intervention initiatives in Oakland, Detroit, and St. Louis, including the Bullet Related Injury Clinic (BRIC), which provides physical and mental care for gunshot survivors. These cuts have led to layoffs and program reductions. Critics argue the abrupt terminations undermine trust and public safety efforts, especially in Black communities disproportionately affected by gun violence. The Justice Department said funds not aligned with administration priorities are subject to review, but some grants may be restored after appeals.


ST. LOUIS — Violent crime was already trending down from a covid-era spike when President Donald Trump presented a picture of unbridled crime in America on the campaign trail in 2024. Now his administration has eliminated about $500 million in grants to organizations that buttress public safety, including many working to prevent gun violence.

In Oakland, California, a hospital-based program to prevent retaliatory gun violence lost a $2 million grant just as the traditionally turbulent summer months approach. Another $2 million award was pulled from a Detroit program that offers social services and job skills to young people in violent neighborhoods. And in St. Louis, a clinic treating the physical and emotional injuries of gunshot victims also lost a $2 million award.

They are among 373 grants that the U.S. Department of Justice abruptly terminated in April. The largest share of the nixed awards were designated for community-based violence intervention — programs that range from conflict mediation and de-escalation to hospital-based initiatives that seek to prevent retaliation from people who experience violent injuries.

Gun violence is among America’s most deadly public health crises, medical experts say.

Among programs whose grants were terminated were those for protecting children, victims’ assistance, hate-crime prevention, and law enforcement and prosecution, according to an analysis by the Council on Criminal Justice, a nonpartisan think tank. The grants totaled $820 million when awarded, but some of that money has been spent.

“Not only are these funds being pulled away from worthy investments that will save lives,” said Thomas Abt, founding director of the Violence Reduction Center at the University of Maryland, “but the way that this was done — by pulling authorized funding without warning — is going to create a lasting legacy of mistrust.”

The Justice Department “is focused on prosecuting criminals, getting illegal drugs off the streets, and protecting all Americans from violent crime,” according to a statement provided by agency spokesperson Natalie Baldassarre. “Discretionary funds that are not aligned with the administration’s priorities are subject to review and reallocation, including funding for clinics that engage in race-based selectivity.”

The Council on Criminal Justice analysis of the terminated grants found that descriptions of 31% of them included references to “diversity,” “equity,” “race,” “racial,” “racism,” or “gender.”

Baldassarre’s statement said the department is committed to working with organizations “to hear any appeal, and to restore funding as appropriate.” Indeed, it restored seven of the terminated grants for victims’ services after Reuters reported on the cuts in April.

But the cuts have already prompted layoffs and reductions at other organizations around the country. Five groups filed a lawsuit on May 21 to restore the grants in their entirety.

Joseph Griffin, executive director of the Oakland nonprofit Youth Alive, which pioneered hospital-based violence intervention in the 1990s, said his organization had spent only about $60,000 of its $2 million grant before it was axed. The grant was primarily to support the intervention program and was awarded for a three-year period but lasted just seven months. The money would have helped pay to intervene with about 30 survivors of gun violence to prevent retaliatory violence. He’s trying to find a way to continue the work, without overtaxing his team.

“We will not abandon a survivor of violence at the hospital bedside in the same way that the federal government is abandoning our field,” he said.

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The cuts are also hitting St. Louis, often dogged by being labeled one of the most dangerous cities in America. The city created an Office of Violence Prevention with money available under former President Joe Biden, and various groups received Justice Department grants, too.

Locals say the efforts have helped: The 33% drop in the city’s homicide rate from 2019 to 2024 was the second-largest decrease among 29 major cities examined by the Council on Criminal Justice.

“I don’t think there’s any doubt that there’s some positive impact from the work that’s happening,” said University of Missouri-St. Louis criminologist Chris Sullivan, who received a grant from the Justice Department to assess the work of the city’s new Office of Violence Prevention. That research grant remains in place.

But the Justice Department slashed two other grants in St. Louis, including $2 million for Power4STL. The nonprofit operates the Bullet Related Injury Clinic, dubbed the BRIC, which provides free treatment for physical and mental injuries caused by bullets.

The BRIC had about $1.3 million left on its grant when the award was terminated in April. LJ Punch, a former trauma surgeon who founded the clinic in 2020, said it was intended to fund a mobile clinic, expand mental health services, evaluate the clinic’s programs, and pay for a patient advisory board. The BRIC won’t abandon those initiatives, Punch said, but will likely need to move slower.

Keisha Blanchard joined the BRIC’s advisory board after her experience as a patient at the clinic following a January 2024 gun injury. Someone fired a bullet into her back from the rear window of a Chevy Impala while Blanchard was out for a lunchtime stroll with a friend from her neighborhood walking group. The shooting was random, Blanchard said, but people always assume she did something to provoke it. “It’s so much shame that comes behind that,” she said.

The 42-year-old said the shooting and her initial medical treatment left her feeling angry and unseen. Her family wasn’t allowed to be with her at the hospital since the police didn’t know who shot her or why. When she asked about taking the bullet out, she was told that the common medical practice is to leave it in. “We’re not in the business of removing bullets,” she recalled being told. At a follow-up appointment, she said, she watched her primary care doctor google what to do for a gunshot wound.

“Nobody cares what’s going to happen to me after this,” Blanchard recalled thinking.

Before she was referred to the BRIC, she said, she was treated as though she should be happy just to be alive. But a part of her died in the shooting, she said. Her joyful, carefree attitude gave way to hypervigilance. She stopped taking walks. She uprooted herself, moving to a neighborhood 20 miles away.

The bullet stayed lodged inside her, forcing her to carry a constant reminder of the violence that shattered her sense of safety, until Punch removed it from her back in November. Blanchard said the removal made her feel “reborn.”

It’s a familiar experience among shooting survivors, according to Punch.

“People talk about the distress about having bullets still inside their bodies, and how every waking conscious moment brings them back to the fact that that’s still inside,” Punch said. “But they’re told repeatedly inside conventional care settings that there’s nothing that needs to be done.”

The Justice Department grant to the BRIC had been an acknowledgment, Punch said, that healing has a role in public safety by quelling retaliatory violence.

“The unhealed trauma in the body of someone who’s gotten the message that they are not safe can rapidly turn into an act of violence when that person is threatened again,” Punch said.

Community gun violence, even in large cities, is concentrated among relatively small groups of people who are often both victims and perpetrators, according to researchers. Violence reduction initiatives are frequently tailored to those networks.

Jennifer Lorentz heads the Diversion Unit in the office of the St. Louis Circuit Attorney, the city’s chief prosecutor. The unit offers mostly young, nonviolent offenders an opportunity to avoid prosecution by completing a program to address the issues that initially led to their arrest. About 80% of the participants have experienced gun violence and are referred to the BRIC, Lorentz said, calling the clinic critical to her program’s success.

“We’re getting them these resources, and we’re changing the trajectory of their lives,” Lorentz said. “Helping people is part of public safety.”

Punch said the BRIC staffers were encouraged during the Justice Department application process to emphasize their reach into St. Louis’ Black community, which is disproportionately affected by gun violence. He suspects that emphasis is why its grant was terminated.

Punch likened the grant terminations to only partially treating tuberculosis, which allows the highly infectious disease to become resistant to medicine.

“If you partially extend a helping hand to somebody, and then you rip it away right when they start to trust you, you assure they will never trust you again,” he said. “If your intention is to prevent violence, you don’t do that.”

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.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

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.

Subscribe to KFF Health News’ free Morning Briefing.

This article first appeared on KFF Health News and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

The post Trump Decried Crime in America, Then Gutted Funding for Gun Violence Prevention appeared first on kffhealthnews.org



Note: The following A.I. based commentary is not part of the original article, reproduced above, but is offered in the hopes that it will promote greater media literacy and critical thinking, by making any potential bias more visible to the reader –Staff Editor.

Political Bias Rating: Center-Left

This content critically highlights the Trump administration’s decision to cut funding for community-based violence prevention programs, portraying these cuts as harmful to public safety and supportive efforts, especially for marginalized communities affected by gun violence. The emphasis on the negative impacts of the cuts, inclusion of expert criticism, and detailed depiction of social programs suggest a perspective more aligned with center-left viewpoints that prioritize public health approaches to crime and emphasize the importance of community intervention and support services.

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