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

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

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

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

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

Dan Weissmann


@danweissmann

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dan: A day! 

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

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

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

Dan: Oh my god. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dan: Wow. 

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

Dan: It wasn’t gonna be easy. 

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

Dan: But they made it work. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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And subscribe to “An Arm and a Leg” on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Pocket Casts, or wherever you listen to podcasts.

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

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Kaiser Health News

A Revolutionary Drug for Extreme Hunger Offers Clues to Obesity’s Complexity

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kffhealthnews.org – Claire Sibonney – 2025-06-16 04:00:00


Dean Shenk, a teen with Prader-Willi syndrome—a rare genetic disorder causing insatiable hunger—found life-changing relief through Vykat XR, a new FDA-approved drug that regulates hunger signals in the brain. Once at constant risk of life-threatening binge episodes, Dean now experiences calmer behavior, increased muscle mass, and a healthier life. Though the drug costs over \$466,000 annually, its impact is profound. Vykat XR marks progress in obesity treatment, revealing obesity’s complex roots and aiding broader research. However, federal funding cuts threaten such breakthroughs, prompting concerns from researchers who rely on NIH-backed support to continue developing treatments for rare and genetic disorders.


Ali Foley Shenk still remembers the panic when her 10-year-old son, Dean, finished a 20-ounce box of raisins in the seconds the cupboard was left unlocked. They rushed to the emergency room, fearing a dangerous bowel impaction.

The irony stung: When Dean was born, he was so weak and floppy he survived only with feeding tubes because he couldn’t suck or swallow. He was diagnosed as a baby with Prader-Willi syndrome — a rare disorder sparked by a genetic abnormality. He continued to be disinterested in food for years. But doctors warned that as Dean grew, his hunger would eventually become so uncontrollable he could gain dangerous amounts of weight and even eat until his stomach ruptured.

“It’s crazy,” said Foley Shenk, who lives in Richmond, Virginia. “All of a sudden, they flip.”

Prader-Willi syndrome affects up to 20,000 people in the U.S. The most striking symptom is its most life-threatening: an insatiable hunger known as hyperphagia that prompts caregivers to padlock cupboards and fridges, chain garbage cans, and install cameras. Until recently, the only treatment was growth hormone therapy to help patients stay leaner and grow taller, but it didn’t address appetite.

In March, the Food and Drug Administration approved Vykat XR, an extended-release version of the existing drug diazoxide choline, which eases the relentless hunger and may offer insights into the biology of extreme appetite and binge eating. This breakthrough for these patients comes as other drugs are revolutionizing how doctors treat obesity, which affects more than 40% of American adults. GLP-1 agonist medications Ozempic, Wegovy, and others also are delivering dramatic results for millions.

But what’s becoming clear is that obesity isn’t one disease — it’s many, said Jack Yanovski, a senior obesity researcher at the National Institutes of Health, who co-authored some of the Vykat XR studies. Researchers are learning that obesity’s drivers can be environmental, familial, or genetic. “It only makes sense that it’s complex to treat,” Yanovski said.

Obesity medicine is likely heading the way of treatments for high blood pressure or diabetes, with three to five effective options for different types of patients. For example, up to 15% of patients in the GLP-1 trials didn’t respond to those drugs, and at least one study found the medications didn’t significantly help Prader-Willi patients.

Yet, researchers say, efforts to understand how to treat obesity’s many causes and pathways are now in question as the Trump administration is dismantling the nation’s infrastructure for medical discovery.

While Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. promotes a “Make America Healthy Again” agenda centered on diet and lifestyle, federal funding for health research is being slashed, including some grants that support the study of obesity. University labs face cuts, FDA staffers are being laid off en masse, and rare disease researchers fear the ripple effects across all medical advances. Even with biotech partnerships — such as the work that led to Vykat XR — progress depends on NIH-funded labs and university researchers.

“That whole thing is likely to get disrupted now,” said Theresa Strong, research director for the Foundation for Prader-Willi Research.

HHS spokesperson Andrew Nixon said in a statement that no NIH awards for Prader-Willi syndrome research have been cut. “We remain committed to supporting critical research into rare diseases and genetic conditions,” he said.

But Strong said that already some of the contacts at the FDA she’d spent nearly 15 years educating about the disorder have left the agency. She’s heard that some research groups are considering moving their labs to Europe.

Early progress in hunger and obesity research is transforming the life of Dean Shenk. During the trial for Vykat XR, his anxiety about food eased so much that his parents began leaving cupboards unlocked.

Jennifer Miller, a pediatric endocrinologist at the University of Florida who co-led the Vykat XR trials, treats around 600 Prader-Willi patients, including Dean. She said the impact she’s seen is life-changing. Since the drug trial started in 2018, some of her adult patients have begun living independently, getting into college, and starting jobs — milestones that once felt impossible. “It opens up their world in so many ways.”

Over 26 years in practice, she’s also seen just how severely the disease hurts patients. One patient ate a four-pound bag of dehydrated potato flakes; another ingested all 10 frozen pizzas from a Costco pack; some ate pet food. Others have climbed out of windows, dived into dumpsters, even died after being hit by a car while running away from home in search of food.

Low muscle tone, developmental delays, cognitive disabilities, and behavioral challenges are also common features of the disorder.

Dean attends a special education program, his mother said. He also has narcolepsy and cataplexy — a sudden loss of muscle control triggered by strong emotions. His once-regular meltdowns and skin-picking, which led to deep, infected lesions, were tied to anxiety over his obsessive, almost painful urge to eat.

In the trial, though, his hyperphagia was under control, according to Miller and Dean’s mother. His lean muscle mass quadrupled, his body fat went down, and his bone mineral density increased. Even the skin-picking stopped, Foley Shenk said.

Vykat XR is not a cure for the disease. Instead, it calms overactive neurons in the hypothalamus that release neuropeptide Y — one of the body’s strongest hunger signals. “In most people, if you stop secreting NPY, hunger goes away,” said Anish Bhatnagar, CEO of Soleno Therapeutics, which makes the medication, the company’s first drug. “In Prader-Willi, that off switch doesn’t exist. It’s literally your brain telling you, ‘You’re starving,’ as you eat.”

GLP-1 drugs, by contrast, mimic a gut hormone that helps people feel full by slowing digestion and signaling satiety to the brain.

Vykat XR’s possible side effects include high blood sugar, increased hair growth, and fluid retention or swelling, but those are trade-offs that many patients are willing to make to get some relief from the most devastating symptom of the condition.

Still, the drug’s average price of $466,200 a year is staggering even for rare-disease treatments. Soleno said in a statement it expects broad coverage from both private and public insurers and that the copayments will be “minimal.” Until more insurers start reimbursing the cost, the company is providing the drug free of charge to trial participants.

Soleno’s stock soared 40% after the FDA nod and has held fairly steady since, with the company valued at nearly $4 billion as of early June.

While Vykat XR may be limited in whom it can help with appetite control, obesity researchers are hoping the research behind it may help them decode the complexity of hunger and identify other treatment options.

“Understanding how more targeted therapies work in rare genetic obesity helps us better understand the brain pathways behind appetite,” said Jesse Richards, an internal medicine physician and the director of obesity medicine at the University of Oklahoma-Tulsa’s School of Community Medicine.

That future may already be taking shape. For Prader-Willi, two other notable phase 3 clinical trials are underway, led by Acadia Pharmaceuticals and Aardvark Therapeutics, each targeting different pathways. Meanwhile, hundreds of trials for general obesity are currently recruiting despite the uncertainties in U.S. medical research funding.

That brings more hope to patients like Dean. Nearly six years after starting treatment, the now-16-year-old is a calmer, happier kid, his mom said. He’s more social, has friends, and can focus better in school. With the impulse to overeat no longer dominating his every thought, he has space for other interests — Star Wars, American Ninja Warrior, and a healthy appreciation for avocados among them.

“Before the drug, it just felt like a dead end. My child was miserable,” Foley Shenk said. “Now, we have our son back.”

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

The post A Revolutionary Drug for Extreme Hunger Offers Clues to Obesity’s Complexity 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

The content focuses on a health and medical research topic, highlighting advances in treating a rare genetic obesity disorder and the broader challenges in obesity research. It criticizes policies under a Trump administration for cutting federal health research funding and disrupting medical discovery, a critique more commonly aligned with center-left perspectives that advocate for strong public investment in science and healthcare. While the piece is largely factual and informative, its framing around funding cuts and administration policies suggests a mild bias to the center-left, emphasizing the importance of government support in medical innovation.

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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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