Houston, Texas. – Los pacientes internados en el Hospital Metodista de Houston llevan adherido al pecho un dispositivo de monitoreo del tamaño de medio billete, desempeñando sin saberlo un papel en el uso cada vez más frecuente de la inteligencia artificial (IA) en la atención médica.

Este delgado dispositivo, que funciona con baterías, se llama BioButton y registra los signos vitales de los pacientes, incluidas la temperatura, y las frecuencias cardíaca y respiratoria. Esos informes se envían —de manera inalámbrica— al personal de enfermería, que puede estar tanto en la sala de control del hospital, que funciona las 24 horas, como en sus propias casas.

El software del dispositivo utiliza la IA para analizar la abrumadora cantidad de datos que registra, y también para detectar señales que indiquen que la salud del paciente está empeorando.

Autoridades del hospital afirman que desde comenzaron a usarlo el año pasado, el BioButton ha mejorado la calidad de la atención y reducido la carga de trabajo de las enfermeras.

“Como detectamos las cosas antes, a los pacientes les va mejor, ya que no tenemos que esperar a que el equipo de cabecera se dé cuenta si algo anda mal”, dijo Sarah Pletcher, vicepresidenta del sistema en Houston.

“Sin embargo, algunas enfermeras temen que esta tecnología termine sustituyéndolas en lugar de respaldar su trabajo, lo que podría perjudicar a los enfermos. El Hospital Metodista de Houston, uno de los muchos hospitales estadounidenses que emplean el BioButton, es el primero en utilizar este dispositivo para monitorear a todos sus pacientes excepto los que están en cuidados intensivos”, explicó Pletcher.

“Existe una publicidad engañosa y exagerada que afirma que estos dispositivos proporcionan cuidados a gran escala con menores costos laborales”, afirmó Michelle Mahon, enfermera titulada y directora adjunta de National Nurses United, el mayor sindicato del personal de enfermería del país. “Esta tendencia nos parece preocupante”, añadió.

La implementación del BioButton es uno de los ejemplos más recientes del modo en que los hospitales utilizan la tecnología con el fin, por un lado, de optimizar la eficiencia y, por el otro, de hacer frente a la escasez de enfermeras, un problema que se ha agudizado con el tiempo.

Sin embargo, esa transición ha generado otras preocupaciones, entre ellas el uso de IA para operar el dispositivo. Las encuestas muestran que el público desconfía de que los proveedores de salud dependan de la IA para atender a los pacientes.

En diciembre de 2022, la Administración de Alimentos y Medicamentos (FDA) autorizó el uso del BioButton en pacientes adultos siempre que no estuvieran en terapia intensiva. Es una de las muchas herramientas de IA que ahora se usan en los hospitales para resolver un gran número de tareas, como por ejemplo interpretar los resultados de diagnósticos por imagen.

En 2023, el presidente Joe Biden le encargó al Departamento de Salud y Servicios Humanos (HHS) la formulación de un plan para regular el uso hospitalario de la IA que incluyera la recopilación de informes de pacientes perjudicados por su uso.

James Mault es el director general de BioIntelliSense, la empresa que desarrolló el BioButton. Desde su sede en Golden, Colorado, Mault afirma que este dispositivo supone un enorme avance si se lo compara con el trabajo tradicional de las enfermeras, que iban varias veces al día a las habitaciones para monitorear los signos vitales de los pacientes.

“Con la IA hemos pasado de preguntarnos ‘¿por qué este paciente empeoró repentinamente?’ a decir ‘podemos prevenir la crisis antes de que se produzca e intervenir adecuadamente’”, afirma Mault.

El BioButton se pega a la piel mediante un adhesivo, es resistente al agua y su batería tiene una vida útil de hasta 30 días. La empresa asegura que el pequeño dispositivo, que permite que los profesionales detecten rápidamente el deterioro de la salud a partir del registro de más de un millar de mediciones diarias por persona, se ha utilizado en más de 80,000 pacientes hospitalizados en todo el país durante el último año.

Los hospitales le pagan a BioIntelliSense una cuota anual por los dispositivos y el software.

Las autoridades del Hospital Metodista de Houston no quisieron revelar cuánto paga la institución por esta tecnología, aunque Pletcher dijo que la suma equivale a menos de una taza de café al día por paciente.

Para un sistema hospitalario que atiende a miles de personas simultáneamente —el Metodista, en sus ocho hospitales del área de Houston, tiene 2,653 camas fuera de la UCI—, esa inversión podría traducirse en millones de dólares al año. Sin embargo, los directivos del hospital aseguraron que no hubo ningún cambio en la dotación del personal de enfermería por la implementación del BioButton ni tienen previsto que lo vaya a haber.

Una mañana reciente unas, 15 enfermeras y técnicos en uniforme estaban sentados en el centro de control de monitoreo virtual del hospital frente a grandes monitores. Allí veían el estado de salud de cientos de pacientes.

Una marca roja junto al nombre de uno de esos pacientes indicaba que el software de IA había detectado una tendencia fuera de lo normal. Los profesionales pudieron, entonces, hacer clic en el historial médico de ese paciente y comprobar cómo habían sido sus signos vitales a lo largo del tiempo así como otros antecedentes médicos.

Estas “enfermeras virtuales”, por así decirlo, pudieron ponerse en contacto con las enfermeras de planta por teléfono o por correo electrónico, e incluso hacer una videollamada directamente a la habitación del paciente.

Nutanben Gandhi, una técnica que esa mañana vigilaba a 446 pacientes en su monitor, dijo que cuando recibe una alerta consulta el historial médico de esa persona para ver si la anomalía puede explicarse fácilmente por su situación de salud o si es preciso que se ponga en contacto con las enfermeras de planta que la atienden en la sala.

En muchas ocasiones, el llamado de atención puede ignorarse. Pero identificar signos de deterioro de la salud puede ser difícil, afirma Steve Klahn, director clínico de Medicina Virtual del Metodista de Houston. “Estamos buscando una aguja en un pajar”, explica.

Donald Eustes, de 65 años, ingresó al hospital en marzo para someterse a un tratamiento contra el cáncer de próstata pero allí le detectaron un accidente cerebrovascular. Está contento de llevar el BioButton.

“Nunca se sabe lo que nos puede pasar, y tener un conjunto de ojos extra observándonos es algo bueno”, reflexionó desde la cama del hospital. Después que le explicaron que el dispositivo utiliza IA, este hombre de Montgomery, Texas, dijo que no tiene ningún problema en que esta tecnología ayude a su equipo médico. “Parece un buen uso de la inteligencia artificial”, opinó.

Tanto los pacientes como el personal de enfermería se benefician de un monitoreo a distancia como el que realiza el BioButton, aseguró Pletcher.

También contó que el hospital ha colocado pequeñas cámaras y micrófonos en el interior de todas las habitaciones, lo que habilita a las enfermeras del centro de monitoreo a comunicarse con los pacientes y colaborar en ciertas tareas como las admisiones y las instrucciones de alta. “Los pacientes pueden incluir a sus familiares en las llamadas a distancia con el personal de enfermería o el equipo médico”, agregó.

La tecnología virtual libera a los enfermeros de guardia de modo que puedan prestar una ayuda más directa, como colocar una vía intravenosa, explicó Pletcher. Con el BioButton, las enfermeras pueden espaciar el control de los signos vitales y realizarlo cada ocho horas en lugar de cada cuatro, como lo hacían habitualmente, explicó.

Pletcher sostiene que el dispositivo reduce el estrés que genera en las enfermeras el monitoreo de los pacientes y permite que algunas trabajen con horarios más flexibles porque la atención virtual también puede hacerse desde sus propias casas. En última instancia, esto ayuda a retener al personal de enfermería, no lo ahuyenta, dijo.

Sheeba Roy, jefa de enfermería del Metodista de Houston, dijo que, sin embargo, a algunos miembros del personal de enfermería los ponía nerviosos depender del dispositivo y no comprobar ellos mismos los signos vitales de los pacientes con tanta frecuencia. Pero las pruebas han demostrado que el dispositivo proporciona información precisa.

“Cuando lo pusimos en marcha, al personal le encantó”, afirma Roy.

Serena Bumpus, directora ejecutiva de la Asociación de Enfermeras de Texas, dijo que su preocupación ante cualquier innovación tecnológica es que pueda ser más gravosa para las enfermeras y quitarles tiempo con los pacientes.

“Tenemos que estar muy atentos para asegurarnos de que no nos estamos apoyando en esta tecnología para sustituir la capacidad de las enfermeras de pensar críticamente, de evaluar a los pacientes y para que puedan corroborar que lo que este dispositivo está informando es lo correcto”, advirtió Bumpus.

Este año, el Hospital Metodista de Houston tiene previsto enviar a los pacientes a su casa con el BioButton para que el hospital pueda efectuar un mejor seguimiento de su evolución en las semanas posteriores al alta, medir su calidad de sueño y comprobar la estabilidad con la que se mueven y caminan.

“No vamos a necesitar menos enfermeras en la atención sanitaria, pero nuestros recursos son limitados y debemos utilizarlos de la forma más inteligente posible”, dijo Pletcher.

“Si tenemos en cuenta la demanda proyectada y los recursos con los que realmente contamos, ya sabemos que no serán suficientes para satisfacerla, así que todo lo que podamos hacer para devolverles tiempo a las enfermeras es beneficioso”, concluyó.

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La esposa de Bill Thompson nunca lo había visto sonreír con confianza. Durante los primeros 20 años de su relación, una infección en la boca le había ido robando los dientes, uno a uno.

“¡No tenía dientes para sonreír!”, dijo el hombre de 53 años de Independence, Missouri.

Thompson dijo que durante años lidió con punzantes dolores de muelas y una hinchazón en la cara, también muy dolorosa, producto de abscesos, mientras trabajaba como cocinero en Burger King.

Necesitaba desesperadamente ir al dentista, pero dijo que no podía permitirse tomar tiempo libre sin pago. Missouri es uno de los muchos estados que no requieren que los empleadores proporcionen licencia por enfermedad paga.

Entonces, Thompson se tragaba un Tylenol y soportaba el dolor mientras trabajaba sobre la parrilla caliente.

“O vamos a trabajar y tenemos un cheque de pago”, dijo Thompson. “O cuidamos de nosotros mismos. No podemos cuidar de nosotros mismos porque, bueno, estamos atrapados en este círculo vicioso”.

En una nación que estuvo fuertemente dividida sobre los mandatos de salud del gobierno durante la pandemia de covid-19, el público se está sintiendo cómodo con la idea de reglas gubernamentales que proporcionen licencia por enfermedad remunerada.

Antes de la pandemia, 10 estados y el Distrito de Columbia tenían leyes que requerían que los empleadores proporcionaran licencia por enfermedad paga. Desde entonces, Colorado, Nueva York, Nuevo México, Illinois y Minnesota han aprobado leyes que ofrecen algún tipo de tiempo libre por enfermedad remunerado. Oregon y California ampliaron las leyes de licencia paga que ya estaban vigentes. En Missouri, Alaska y Nebraska, defensores están presionando para llevar el tema a votación este otoño.

Estados Unidos es uno de los nueve países que no garantizan licencia por enfermedad paga, según datos compilados por el World Policy Analysis Center.

En respuesta a la pandemia, el Congreso aprobó la Emergency Paid Sick Leave y el Emergency Family and Medical Leave Act. Estas medidas temporales permitieron a los empleados tomar hasta dos semanas de licencia paga si la enfermedad estaba relacionada con covid y su atención. Pero las disposiciones expiraron en 2021.

“Cuando golpeó la pandemia, finalmente vimos una voluntad política real para resolver el problema de no tener licencia por enfermedad paga federal”, dijo la economista Hilary Wething.

Wething fue co-autora de un informe reciente del Economic Policy Institute sobre el estado de la licencia por enfermedad en el país. Descubrió que más de la mitad, el 61%, de los trabajadores peor pagos no pueden tomarse este tipo de licencia.

“Me sorprendió mucho lo rápido que la pérdida de salario, debido a que estás enfermo, puede traducirse en recortes inmediatos y devastadores para el presupuesto familiar”, dijo.

Wething señaló que la pérdida de salarios incluso por uno o dos días puede equivaler a un mes de gasolina que un trabajador necesitaría para llegar a su trabajo, o la elección entre pagar una factura de electricidad o comprar alimentos.

Agregó que presentarse al trabajo enfermo representa un riesgo tanto para los compañeros como para los clientes. Los empleos mal remunerados que a menudo no tienen licencia por enfermedad paga, como cajeros, cosmetólogas, asistentes de salud en el hogar y trabajadores de comida rápida, implican muchas interacciones cara a cara.

“Así que la licencia por enfermedad paga se trata tanto de proteger la salud pública de una comunidad como de proporcionar a los trabajadores la seguridad económica que necesitan desesperadamente cuando deben tomar tiempo libre del trabajo”, dijo.

La National Federation Of Independent Business se ha opuesto a las reglas de licencia por enfermedad obligatoria a nivel estatal, argumentando que los lugares de trabajo deberían tener la flexibilidad para resolver el tema con sus empleados cuando se enferman. El grupo dijo que el costo de pagar a los trabajadores por tiempo libre, el papeleo adicional y la productividad perdida son una carga para los pequeños empleadores.

Según un informe del National Bureau of Economic Research, una vez que estas disposiciones entran en vigencia, los empleados toman, en promedio, dos días más de enfermedad al año comparado con antes de que entrara en vigor la ley.

Las reglas de tiempo libre pago de Illinois entraron en vigencia este año. Lauren Pattan es co-propietaria de Old Bakery Beer Co. allí. Antes de este año, la cervecería artesanal no ofrecía tiempo libre remunerado para sus empleados por hora. Pattan dijo que apoya la nueva ley de Illinois, pero tiene que ver cómo pagarla.

“Realmente intentamos ser respetuosos con nuestros empleados y ser un buen lugar para trabajar, y al mismo tiempo nos preocupa no poder permitirnos ciertas cosas”, dijo.

Eso podría significar que los clientes tengan que pagar más para cubrir el costo, agregó Pattan.

En cuanto a Bill Thompson, escribió una columna de opinión para el periódico Kansas City Star sobre sus problemas dentales.

“A pesar de trabajar casi 40 horas a la semana, muchos de mis compañeros no tienen hogar”, escribió. “Sin seguro, ninguno de nosotros puede pagar a un médico o un dentista”.

Ese artículo generó atención local y, en 2018, un dentista de su comunidad donó su tiempo y trabajo para quitarle los dientes restantes a Thompson y reemplazarlos con dentaduras postizas.

Esto permitió que su boca se recuperara de las infecciones con las que había estado lidiando durante años. Hoy, Thompson tiene una nueva sonrisa y un trabajo, con licencia por enfermedad paga, en el servicio de alimentos en un hotel.

En su tiempo libre, ha estado recopilando firmas para presentar una iniciativa en la boleta electoral de noviembre que garantizaría al menos cinco días de licencia por enfermedad paga al año para los trabajadores de Missouri. Los organizadores de la petición dijeron que tienen suficientes firmas para llevarlo ante los votantes.

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James Lemons, de 39 años, quiere que le extraigan la bala de su muslo para poder volver a trabajar.

Sarai Holguín, de 71 años y originaria de México, ha aceptado la bala alojada cerca de su rodilla como su “compa”, es decir, una amiga cercana.

A Mireya Nelson, de 15, la alcanzó una bala que atravesó su mandíbula y le rompió el hombro, donde quedaron fragmentos. Por ahora vivirá con ellos, mientras los médicos monitorean los niveles de plomo en su sangre por al menos dos años.

A casi tres meses del tiroteo en el desfile del Super Bowl de los Kansas City Chiefs, que dejó al menos 24 personas heridas, recuperarse de esas heridas es algo profundamente personal e incluye una sorprendente área gris de la medicina: si las balas deberían o no extraerse.

El protocolo médico no ofrece una respuesta clara. Una encuesta de 2016 entre cirujanos reveló que solo cerca del 15% de los encuestados trabajaban en instalaciones médicas que tenían normas sobre la extracción de balas.

Los médicos en Estados Unidos a menudo dejan las balas enterradas profundamente en el cuerpo de una persona, al menos al principio, para no causar más trauma.

Pero a medida que la violencia armada surge como una epidemia de salud pública, algunos investigadores se preguntan si esa práctica es la mejor.

Algunos de los heridos, como James Lemons, quedan en una situación precaria. “Si hay una manera de sacarla y se saca de forma segura, sáquenla fuera de la persona”, dijo Lemons. “Hagan que esa persona se sienta más segura consigo misma. Y que no tengas que estar caminando con ese recuerdo dentro de tí”.

Lemons, Holguín y Nelson están sobrellevando las cosas de manera muy diferente.

El dolor se convirtió en un problema

Tres días después de que los Chiefs ganaran el Super Bowl, Lemons condujo las 37 millas desde Harrisonville, Missouri, hasta el centro de Kansas City para celebrar la victoria. Lemons, quien trabaja en un depósito, llevaba a su hija de 5 años, Kensley, en sus hombros cuando sintió una bala entrar en la parte posterior de su muslo derecho.

Los disparos se desataron en un área abarrotada de fans, dijeron más tarde los fiscales, después de una “confrontación verbal” entre dos grupos. Los detectives encontraron “múltiples cartuchos de bala calibre 9 mm y .40” en el lugar. Lemons dijo que entendió inmediatamente lo que estaba sucediendo.

“Conozco mi ciudad. No estamos lanzando fuegos artificiales”, dijo.

Mientras se tiraban al  suelo, Lemons protegió el rostro de Kensley para que no golpeara sobre el cemento. Su primer pensamiento fue llevar a su familia —su esposa, Brandie; su hija de 17 años, Kallie; y su hijo de 10 años, Jaxson— a un lugar seguro.

“Me dispararon. Pero no te preocupes”, recordó Lemons que le dijo a Brandie. “Tenemos que irnos”.

Llevó a Kensley en sus hombros mientras la familia caminaba una milla hasta su auto. Al principio su pierna sangraba a través de sus pantalones, pero después paró, dijo. Ardía de dolor. Brandie insistió en llevarlo al hospital, pero el tráfico estaba estancado, así que encendió las luces de emergencia y condujo en la dirección opuesta.

Lemons recordó que ella dijo: “’Te estoy llevando al hospital. Estoy cansada de que la gente se interponga en mi camino'”. “Nunca había visto a mi esposa así. La miré y pensé, ‘esto es algo sexy'”.

Contó que le sonrió a su esposa y aplaudió, a lo que ella respondió: “¿Por qué estás sonriendo? Acaban de dispararte”. Se mantuvo en silenciosa admiración hasta que los detuvo un sheriff, que llamó a una ambulancia, recordó Lemons.

Lo llevaron a la sala de emergencias de University Health, que ese día admitió a 12 pacientes del rally, incluidos ocho con heridas de bala. Las placas mostraron que la bala apenas había esquivado una arteria, dijo Lemons.

Los médicos limpiaron la herida, pusieron su pierna en un aparato ortopédico y le dijeron que regresara en una semana. La bala todavía estaba en su pierna.

“Me sentí un poco desconcertado, pero pensé, ‘Está bien, lo que sea, saldré de aquí'”, recordó Lemons.

Cuando regresó, los médicos le quitaron el aparato ortopédico pero le explicaron que a menudo dejan balas y fragmentos en el cuerpo, a menos que se vuelvan demasiado dolorosos.

“Entiendo, pero no me gusta eso”, dijo Lemons. “¿Por qué no la sacarías si pudieras?”

Leslie Carto, vocera de University Health, dijo que el hospital no puede comentar sobre la atención de pacientes debido a las leyes federales de privacidad.

Los cirujanos generalmente extraen las balas cuando las encuentran durante la cirugía o cuando están en lugares peligrosos, como en el canal espinal, o a punto de dañar un órgano, explicó Brendan Campbell, cirujano pediátrico del Connecticut Children’s.

Campbell también preside el Comité de Prevención y Control de Lesiones del Comité de Trauma del Colegio Americano de Cirujanos, que trabaja en la prevención de lesiones por armas de fuego.

LJ Punch, cirujano entrenado en trauma y fundador de la Bullet Related Injury Clinic  en St. Louis, dijo que los orígenes de la atención del trauma también ayudan a explicar por qué las balas generalmente no se extraen.

“La atención del trauma es medicina de guerra”, dijo Punch. “Está preparada para estar lista en cualquier momento, todos los días, para salvar una vida. No está equipada para cuidar la curación que se necesita después”.

En la encuesta a los cirujanos, las razones más comunes dadas para extraer una bala fueron el dolor, una bala palpable alojada cerca de la piel o una infección. Mucho menos comunes fueron la intoxicación por plomo y las preocupaciones de salud mental como el trastorno de estrés postraumático y la ansiedad.

Los cirujanos dijeron que lo que querían los pacientes también impactaba en sus decisiones.

Lemons quería que le quitaran la bala. El dolor en su pierna se irradiaba desde su muslo, lo que le dificultaba moverse durante más de una hora o dos. Era imposible trabajar en el depósito.

“Tengo que levantar 100 libras cada noche”, recordó Lemons que le dijo a sus médicos. “Tengo que levantar a mi hijo. No puedo trabajar así”.

Ha perdido sus ingresos y su seguro de salud. Otro racha de mala suerte: el dueño de la casa que alquilaban decidió venderla poco después del desfile, y tuvieron que encontrar un nuevo lugar para vivir.

La casa actual es más pequeña, pero era importante mantener a los niños en el mismo distrito escolar con sus amigos, dijo Lemons en una entrevista en el dormitorio rosa de Kensley, el lugar más tranquilo para hablar.

Han pedido dinero prestado y recaudaron $6,500 en GoFundMe para ayudar con el depósito y las reparaciones del automóvil, pero el tiroteo del desfile ha dejado a la familia en un profundo pozo financiero.

Sin seguro, Lemons temía no poder pagar para que le extrajeran la bala. Luego se enteró que su cirugía sería pagada por donaciones. Programó una cita en un hospital al norte de la ciudad, donde un cirujano tomó medidas en su radiografía y le explicó el procedimiento.

“Necesito que estés involucrado tanto como yo voy a estar involucrado”, recordó que le dijeron, “porque —adivina qué— esta no es mi pierna”.

La cirugía está programada para este mes.

“Nos hicimos amigas”

Sarai Holguín no es gran fanática de los Chiefs, pero aceptó ir al rally en Union Station para mostrarle a su amiga el mejor lugar para ver a los jugadores en el escenario.

Era un día inusualmente cálido, y estaban paradas cerca de una entrada donde había muchos policías. Había papás con bebés en cochecitos, los niños jugaban al fútbol americano y Holguín se sentía segura.

Un poco antes de las 2 pm, escuchó lo que pensó que eran fuegos artificiales. La gente comenzó a correr lejos del escenario. Se dio vuelta, tratando de encontrar a su amiga, pero se sintió mareada. No se dio cuenta que le habían disparado. Tres personas rápidamente la ayudaron a tirarse al suelo, y un extraño se quitó la camisa e hizo un torniquete en su pierna izquierda.

Holguín, originaria de Puebla, México, ciudadana estadounidense desde 2018, nunca había visto tanto caos, tantos paramédicos trabajando bajo tanta presión. Fueron “héroes anónimos”, dijo.

Los vio atendiendo a Lisa López-Galván, una conocida DJ de 43 años y dos hijos. López-Galván murió en el lugar, y fue la única víctima mortal. A Holguín la llevaron a University Health, a unos cinco minutos de Union Station.

Allí, la operaron, pero dejaron la bala en su pierna. Holguín se despertó en medio de más caos. Había perdido su bolso y su teléfono celular, así que no pudo llamar a César, su esposo. La internaron en el hospital bajo un alias, una práctica común en los centros médicos para comenzar a atender al paciente de inmediato.

Su esposo e hija no la encontraron hasta cerca de las 10 pm, unas ocho horas después de que le dispararan.

“Ha sido un gran trauma para mí”, dijo Holguín a través de un intérprete. “Estaba herida y en el hospital sin haber hecho nada malo. [El rally] era un momento para jugar, relajarse, estar juntos”.

Holguín estuvo una semana internada, e inmediatamente tuvo dos cirugías ambulatorias más para eliminar el tejido muerto alrededor de la herida. Usó un dispositivo especial durante varias semanas y tuvo citas médicas cada dos días.

Campbell, el cirujano de trauma, dijo que esos dispositivos, llamados “de cierre asistido por vacío” son comunes cuando las balas dañan tejidos que no se pueden reconstruir fácilmente en la cirugía. (Ayudan a acelerar el proceso de cierre de la herida)

“No son solo las lesiones físicas”, dijo Campbell. “Muchas veces son las lesiones emocionales, psicológicas, que muchos de estos pacientes también experimentan”.

La bala sigue cerca de la rodilla de Holguín.

“La tendré por el resto de mi vida”, dijo, agregando que ella y la bala se han convertido en “compas”, amigas cercanas. “Nos hicimos amigas para que ella no me haga ningún otro daño”, dijo Holguín sonriendo.

Punch, de la Bullet Related Injury Clinic en St. Louis, dijo que algunas personas como Holguín pueden tener la fortaleza mental para vivir con una bala en el cuerpo.

“Si puedes crear una historia sobre lo que significa que esa bala esté en tu cuerpo, eso te da poder; te empodera”, dijo Punch.

La vida de Holguín cambió en un instante: está usando un andador para moverse. Su pie, dijo, actúa “como si hubiera tenido un derrame cerebral”, se queda colgando y es difícil mover los dedos de los pies.

La consecuencia más frustrante es que no puede viajar para ver a su padre de 102 años, que está en México. Lo ve en video a través de su teléfono, pero eso no ofrece mucho consuelo, dijo, y pensar en él la hace llorar.

En el hospital le dijeron que sus facturas médicas serían cubiertas, pero luego muchas de ellas llegaron por correo. Intentó obtener ayuda para las víctimas del estado de Missouri, pero le costo entender todos los formularios que tenía porque estaban en inglés.

Solo alquilar el dispositivo de cierre asistido por vacío costaba $800 al mes.

Finalmente escuchó que el Consulado de México en Kansas City podía ayudar, y el cónsul la remitió a la Oficina del Fiscal del condado de Jackson, donde se registró como víctima oficial. Ahora todas sus facturas están siendo pagadas, dijo.

Holguín no buscará tratamiento de salud mental, ya que cree que uno debe aprender a vivir con una situación determinada o se convertirá en una carga. “He procesado este nuevo capítulo en mi vida”, dijo Holguín. “Nunca me he rendido y seguiré adelante con la ayuda de Dios”.

“Vi sangre en mis manos”

Mireya Nelson llegó tarde al desfile. Su madre, Erika, le dijo que se fuera temprano, por el tráfico y el millón de personas que se esperaba en el centro de Kansas City, pero ella y sus amigos adolescentes ignoraron el consejo. Los Nelson viven en Belton, Missouri, aproximadamente a media hora al sur de la ciudad.

Mireya quería sostener el trofeo del Super Bowl. Cuando ella y sus tres amigos llegaron, el desfile que había pasado por el centro ya había terminado y había comenzado el rally en Union Station. Estaban atrapados entre la multitud y se aburrieron rápido, dijo Mireya.

Mireya y una de sus amigas intentaron llamar al conductor de su grupo para irse, pero no tenían señal en el celular, por la gran multitud.

En medio del caos de personas y ruido, Mireya de repente se desplomó.

“Vi sangre en mis manos. Así que supe que me habían disparado. Sí, y simplemente me arrastré hacia un árbol”, dijo Mireya. “En realidad, al principio no sabía dónde me habían disparado. Solo ví sangre en mis manos”.

La bala rozó la barbilla de Mireya, atravesó su mandíbula, le rompió el hombro y salió por su brazo. Quedaron fragmentos de bala en su hombro. Los médicos decidieron dejarlos porque la joven ya había sufrido mucho daño.

Por ahora, la madre de Mireya apoya esa decisión, señalando que eran solo “fragmentos”. “Creo que si no la van a dañar el resto de su vida”, dijo Erika, “no quiero que siga volviendo al hospital y teniendo cirugías. Eso es más trauma para ella y más tiempo de recuperación, más terapia física y cosas así”.

Punch dijo que los fragmentos de bala, especialmente los que son solo superficiales, a menudo se abren paso como astillas, aunque a los pacientes no siempre se les dice eso. Además, agregó, las lesiones causadas por las balas se extienden más allá de aquellos con tejido dañado a las personas a su alrededor, como Erika. Pidió un enfoque holístico para recuperarse de todo el trauma.

“Cuando las personas permanecen en su trauma, ese trauma puede cambiarlas para toda la vida”, dijo Punch.

Mireya será sometida a pruebas de niveles de plomo en su sangre durante al menos los próximos dos años. Ahora sus niveles están bien, dijeron los médicos a la familia, pero si empeoran, necesitará cirugía para remover los fragmentos, dijo su madre.

Campbell, el cirujano pediátrico, dijo que el plomo es particularmente preocupante para los niños pequeños, cuyos cerebros en desarrollo los hacen especialmente vulnerables a sus efectos perjudiciales. Incluso una pequeña cantidad de plomo —3.5 microgramos por decilitro— es suficiente para informar a las autoridades de salud estatales, según los Centros para el Control y Prevención de Enfermedades (CDC).

Mireya habla sobre adolescentes lindos, pero todavía usa pijamas de Cookie Monster. Parece confundida por los tiroteos, por toda la atención en casa, en la escuela, de los periodistas. Cuando le preguntaron cómo se siente sobre los fragmentos en su brazo, dijo: “Realmente no me importan”.

Después de su estadía en el hospital, Mireya tomó antibióticos durante 10 días porque los médicos temían que hubieran bacterias en la herida. Ha tenido terapia física, pero es doloroso hacer los ejercicios. Tiene una cicatriz en la barbilla. “Una muesca”, dijo, que es “irregular”.

“Dijeron que tuvo suerte porque si no hubiera girado la cabeza de cierta manera, podría haber muerto”, dijo Erika.

Mireya enfrenta una evaluación psiquiátrica y sesiones de terapia, aunque no le gusta hablar de sus sentimientos.

Hasta ahora, el seguro de Erika está pagando las facturas médicas, aunque espera obtener algo de ayuda del fondo #KCStrong de United Way, que recaudó casi $1.9 millones, o de una organización de fe llamada Unite KC.

Erika no quiere limosnas. Tiene un trabajo en atención médica y acaba de tener un ascenso.

La bala ha cambiado la vida de la familia de muchas maneras. Ahora forma parte de sus charlas. Hablan sobre cómo desearían saber qué tipo de munición era, o cómo se veía.

“Como si quisiera quedarme con la bala que atravesó mi brazo”, dijo Mireya. “Quiero saber qué tipo de bala era”. Eso provocó un suspiro de su mamá, quien dijo que su hija había visto demasiados episodios de “Forensic Files”.

Erika se culpa por la herida, porque no pudo proteger a su hija en el desfile.

“Me duele mucho porque me siento mal, porque ella me suplicó que dejara el trabajo y no fui allí porque cuando tienes un puesto nuevo, no puedes simplemente irte del trabajo”, dijo Erika. “Porque yo hubiera recibido la bala. Porque haría cualquier cosa. Es lo que hace una mamá”.

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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Wade Trammell recalls the time he and his fellow firefighters responded to a highway crash in which a beer truck rammed into a pole, propelling the truck’s engine through the cab and into the driver’s abdomen.

“The guy was up there screaming and squirming. Then the cab caught on fire,” Trammell says. “I couldn’t move him. He burned to death right there in my arms.”

Memories of that gruesome death and other traumatic incidents he had witnessed as a firefighter in Mountain View, California, didn’t seem to bother Trammell for the first seven years after he retired in 2015. But then he started crying a lot, drinking heavily, and losing sleep. At first, he didn’t understand why, but he would later come to suspect he was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

After therapy failed to improve his mental well-being, he heard about the potential benefits of psychedelic drugs to help first responders with PTSD.

Last July, Trammell went on a retreat in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, organized by The S.I.R.E.N. Project, a nonprofit that advocates the use of psychedelics and other alternative medicines to help first responders. He took psilocybin mushrooms and, the next day, another psychedelic derived from the toxic secretions of the Sonoran Desert toad. The experience, he says, produced an existential shift in the way he thinks of the terrible things he saw as a firefighter.

“All that trauma and all that crap I saw and dealt with, it’s all very temporary and everything goes back into the universe as energy,” Trammell says.

Abundant research has shown that psychedelics have the potential to produce lasting relief from depression, anxiety, PTSD, addiction, and other mental health conditions. Many universities around the United States have programs researching psychedelics. But experts warn that these powerful drugs are not for everybody, especially those with a history of psychosis or cardiovascular problems.

Most psychedelic drugs are prohibited under federal law, but California may soon join a growing number of local and state governments allowing their use.

A bill working its way through the California Legislature, would allow the therapeutic use of psilocybin; mescaline; MDMA, the active ingredient in ecstasy; and dimethyltryptamine, the active ingredient in ayahuasca, a plant-based psychoactive tea. The drugs could be purchased and ingested in approved locations under the supervision of facilitators, who would undergo training and be licensed by a new state board. The facilitators would need a professional health credential to qualify.

The bill, co-sponsored by Sen. Scott Wiener (D-San Francisco), Assembly member Marie Waldron (R-San Diego), and several other lawmakers, follows last year’s unsuccessful effort to decriminalize certain psychedelics for personal use. Gov. Gavin Newsom, a Democrat, vetoed that bill, though he extolled psychedelics as “an exciting frontier” and asked for new legislation with “regulated treatment guidelines.”

Wiener says the new bill was drafted with Newsom’s request in mind. It is supported by some veterans and first responder groups and opposed by numerous law enforcement agencies.

One potential roadblock is the state’s budget deficit, pegged at between $38 billion and $73 billion. Newsom and legislative leaders may choose not to launch a new initiative when they are cutting existing programs. “That is something we’ll certainly grapple with,” Wiener says.

The legislation, which is making its way through committees, would require the new board to begin accepting facilitator license applications in April 2026. The system would look somewhat like the one in Oregon, which allows the use of psilocybin mushrooms under the guidance of state-licensed facilitators at psilocybin service centers. And like Oregon, California would not allow for the personal use or possession of psychedelics; the drugs would have to be purchased and consumed at the authorized locations.

Colorado, following the passage of a ballot initiative in 2022, is creating a system of regulated “healing centers,” where people will be able to legally consume psilocybin mushrooms and some other psychedelics under the supervision of licensed facilitators. Colorado’s law allows for the personal use and possession of a handful of psychedelics.

In California, the cities of Oakland, San Francisco, Berkeley, Santa Cruz, and Arcata have effectively decriminalized many psychedelics, as have other cities around the United States, including Ann Arbor, Michigan; Cambridge, Massachusetts; Detroit; Minneapolis; Seattle; and Washington, D.C.

Psychedelics such as psilocybin, ayahuasca, and peyote have been used for thousands of years by Indigenous populations in Latin America and the current-day United States. And some non-Indigenous groups use these substances in a spiritual way.

The Church of Ambrosia, with locations in San Francisco and Oakland, considers psilocybin mushrooms, also known as magic mushrooms, a sacrament. “Mushrooms affect the border between this world and the next, and allow people to connect to their soul,” says Dave Hodges, founder and pastor of the church.

Hodges was behind an unsuccessful attempt to get an initiative on the California ballot this year that would have decriminalized the possession and use of mushrooms. He hopes it will qualify for the 2026 ballot.

The pending California legislation is rooted in studies showing psychedelics can be powerful agents in mental health treatment.

Charles Grob, a psychiatry professor at the University of California-Los Angeles School of Medicine who has researched psychedelics for nearly 40 years, led a study that found synthetic psilocybin could help reduce end-of-life anxiety in patients with advanced-stage cancer.

Grob says MDMA is good for couples counseling because it facilitates communication and puts people in touch with their feelings. And he conducted research in Brazil that showed ayahuasca used in a religious context helped people overcome alcoholism.

But Grob warns that the unsupervised use of psychedelics can be dangerous and says people should undergo mental and medical health screenings before ingesting them. “There are cases of people going off the rails. It’s a small minority, but it can happen, and when it does happen it can be very frightening,” Grob says.

Ken Finn, past president of the American Board of Pain Medicine, says that psychedelics have a number of side effects, including elevated blood pressure, high heart rate, and vomiting, and that they can trigger “persistent psychosis” in a small minority of users. Legal drugs also pose risks, he says, “but we have much better guardrails on things like prescriptions and over-the-counter medications.” He also worries about product contamination and says manufacturers would need to be tightly regulated.

Another potential problem is health equity. Since insurance would not cover these sessions, at least initially, they would likely attract people with disposable income. A supervised psilocybin journey in Oregon, for example, can cost more than $2,500.

Many people who have experienced psychedelics corroborate the research results. Ben Kramer, a former Marine who served in Afghanistan and now works as a psilocybin facilitator in Beaverton, Oregon, says a high-dose mushroom session altered his worldview.

“I relived the first time I was ever shot at in Afghanistan,” he says. “I was there. I had this overwhelming love and compassion for the guy who was shooting at me, who was fighting for what he believed in, just like I was.”

Another characteristic of psychedelic therapy is that just a few sessions can potentially produce lasting results.

Trammell, the retired firefighter, hasn’t taken psychedelics since that retreat in Mexico 10 months ago. “I just felt like I kind of got what I needed,” he says. “I’ve been fine ever since.”

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

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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Raymond Llano carries a plastic bag with everything he owns in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, and the flattened cardboard box he uses as a bed under his arm as he waits in line for lunch at Glide Memorial Church in San Francisco. At 55, he hasn’t had a home for 15 years, since he lost a job at Target.

Llano once tried to get on public assistance but couldn’t — something, he said, looking perplexed, about owing the state money — and he’d like to apply again.

But beginning next year, if he does, he’ll face a new city requirement that single adults with no dependents who receive cash benefits be screened for illegal drug use and, if deemed necessary, enter treatment. San Francisco’s voters approved the new mandate in March.

Llano has no objection to being screened. He said he uses cannabis, which is legal in California, though not federally, but does not use other drugs. Nonetheless, he said, “I suppose I would try recovery.”

Another man in the free-lunch line, Francis Farrell, 56, was far less agreeable. “You can screen me,” he said, raising his voice, “but I don’t think you should force me into your idea of treatment.”

No one will be forced to undergo substance abuse treatment, nor will anyone be subject to drug testing, San Francisco officials insist. Rather, starting in January 2025, San Francisco’s public assistance recipients who screen positive for addiction on a 10-question drug abuse test will be referred to treatment. Those who refuse or fail to show up for treatment will forfeit the $109 a month that the city grants to homeless adults who qualify for city shelters or supportive housing, or the $712 a month it grants to adults with home addresses.

The city famous for its tolerance is resorting to tough love.

Trent Rhorer, executive director of the San Francisco Human Services Agency, cited three reasons for the new measure, which was fashioned after similar policies in Los Angeles and New York: to incentivize people with a substance use disorder to enter treatment, to prevent taxpayer money from being used to buy illegal drugs, and to dissuade drug seekers from moving to San Francisco.

“We’re giving them the opportunity to engage in something, without requiring sobriety, to hopefully get on a path to recovery,” Rhorer told KFF Health News.

When Mayor London Breed introduced the ballot initiative known as Measure F in a news conference last year, she called it an incentive to encourage drug-addicted recipients of public assistance to enter “into a program that will help save their life.” Accidental overdoses killed more than 800 people in San Francisco last year.

But in the eyes of many health care providers, researchers, and harm reduction advocates, the measure is neither an incentive nor an opportunity.

The policy was designed to have “a coercive, punitive effect” and could do more harm than good, said Vitka Eisen, president and chief executive of HealthRIGHT 360, San Francisco’s largest drug treatment provider.

“It would have been an interesting project, much more in the spirit of San Francisco as a hub of innovation, to figure out if we can identify people with substance use disorder. And if they go into treatment and stay for a period of time, they’ll get an increased benefit,” Eisen said.

About 5,800 people in the city currently receive benefits from the County Adult Assistance Programs, or CAAP. Under Measure F, those who acknowledge drug abuse on the screening test but refuse treatment and live in city-provided shelter will lose their cash benefits but can maintain their shelter, Rhorer said. However, CAAP recipients who refuse treatment and depend on public assistance to pay their rent in private housing could lose their homes.

The city will give recipients three chances to show up for treatment and will pay rent directly to a landlord for one month, Rhorer said. Measure F came in response to the grim conditions on some San Francisco streets, where men and women lie on sidewalks, often blocking passersby with their arms and legs splayed, or stand bent over, frozen like statues. Many use fentanyl, a synthetic opioid that has turned a long-standing homelessness problem into a public health emergency.

About 12% of people who fatally overdosed in San Francisco last year were CAAP recipients, Rhorer said.

Compassion fatigue seems to have settled over this city known for its kindheartedness. Measure F proponents raised $667,000 — more than 17 times as much as opponents — largely from business executives and tech investors, according to the San Francisco Ethics Commission. Then in March, 58% of voters approved the measure.

Since fentanyl began replacing heroin around 2019, Rhorer said, “drug tourists” have flocked to San Francisco, where the opioid has been cheap and plentiful. Lenient law enforcement and relatively generous cash public assistance grants also have drawn people with addiction, he said, although police activity has increased since last spring.

A recent city report found that only 53% of the 718 people whom police cited for substance use over a 10-month period that ended in February said they lived in the city.

“People who live in San Francisco, who really need the most help, don’t get the help they need due to the influx of people coming from somewhere else,” said Cedric Akbar, who runs recovery programs and co-founded Positive Directions Equals Changes. “And should our tax dollars go to the ones in San Francisco, or are we going to take care of the whole country?”

Akbar began using heroin when he moved to San Francisco from Houston in the 1980s and has been in recovery for 31 years. He said he would have preferred even stricter requirements for eligibility for public assistance than those in Measure F but hopes the new mandate will at least help give people access to treatment.

The city’s capacity for treatment is also a concern. Eisen and others describe a dire shortage of behavioral health workers to staff treatment facilities and residential step-down units, which are crucial for housing those in recovery from drug addiction.

New programs funded by the recently approved Proposition 1 in California, which authorizes the state to spend $6.38 billion to build mental health treatment facilities and provide housing for homeless people, are meant to address the shortages.

Leslie Suen, an addiction medicine physician and an assistant professor at the University of California-San Francisco, fears that pushing CAAP recipients into treatment could turn them off. When people “were stigmatized, or coerced, or told they would face consequences if they didn’t do a certain thing,” she said, “that pushed them away from the health system even further.”

Though evidence suggests compulsory treatment can provide short-term benefits, it also can lead to long-term harm, the National Institute on Drug Abuse said in an email.

“To achieve the best outcomes,” the email said, treatment should be “delivered without stigma or penalty.”

Almost everyone with a substance use disorder enters treatment under some kind of pressure, whether from a parent, a spouse, an employer, or the criminal justice system, said Keith Humphreys, a Stanford University psychiatry professor.

Nonetheless, he questioned the morality of requiring welfare recipients, as opposed to criminals, to get drug treatment.

“I would never start with people who are poor but not committing crimes,” he said. “I would start with people who are harming others.”

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

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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ST. CHARLES, Mo. — Democrat Lucas Kunce is trying to pin reproductive care restrictions on Sen. Josh Hawley (R-Mo.), betting it will boost his chances of unseating the incumbent in November.

In a recent ad campaign, Kunce accuses Hawley of jeopardizing reproductive care, including in vitro fertilization. Staring straight into the camera, with tears in her eyes, a Missouri mom identified only as Jessica recounts how she struggled for years to conceive.

“Now there are efforts to ban IVF, and Josh Hawley got them started,” Jessica says. “I want Josh Hawley to look me in the eye and tell me that I can’t have the child that I deserve.”

Never mind that IVF is legal in Missouri, or that Hawley has said he supports limited access to abortion as a “pro-life” Republican. In key races across the country, Democrats are branding their Republican rivals as threats to women’s health after a broad erosion of reproductive rights since the Supreme Court struck down Roe v. Wade, including near-total state abortion bans, efforts to restrict medication abortion, and a court ruling that limited IVF in Alabama.

On top of the messaging campaigns, Democrats hope ballot measures to guarantee abortion rights in as many as 13 states — including Missouri, Arizona, and Florida — will help boost turnout in their favor.

The issue puts the GOP on the defensive, said J. Miles Coleman, an election analyst at the University of Virginia.

“I don’t really think Republicans have found a great way to respond to it yet,” he said.

Abortion is such a salient issue in Arizona, for example, that election analysts say a U.S. House seat occupied by Republican Juan Ciscomani is now a toss-up.

Hawley appears in less peril, for now. He holds a wide lead in polls, though Kunce outraised him in the most recent quarter, raking in $2.25 million in donations compared with the incumbent’s $846,000, according to campaign finance reports. Still, Hawley’s war chest is more than twice the size of Kunce’s.

Kunce, a Marine veteran and antitrust advocate, said he likes his odds.

“I just don’t think we’re gonna lose,” he told KFF Health News. “Missourians want freedom and the ability to control their own lives.”

Hawley’s campaign declined to comment. He has backed a federal ban on abortion after 15 weeks and has said he supports exceptions for rape and incest and to protect the lives of pregnant women. Missouri’s state ban is near total, with no exceptions for rape or incest.

“This is Josh Hawley’s life’s mission. It’s his family’s business,” Kunce said, a nod to Erin Morrow Hawley, the senator’s wife, a lawyer who argued before the Supreme Court in March on behalf of activists who sought to limit access to the abortion pill mifepristone.

State abortion rights have won out everywhere they’ve been on the ballot since the end of Roe in 2022, including in Republican-led Kentucky and Ohio.

An abortion rights ballot initiative is also expected in Montana, where a Republican challenge to Democrat Jon Tester could decide control of the Senate.

On a late-April Saturday along historic Main Street in St. Charles, Missouri, people holding makeshift clipboards fashioned from yard signs from past elections invited locals strolling brick sidewalks to sign a petition to get the initiative on Missouri ballots. Nearby, diners enjoyed lunch on a patio tucked under a canopy of trees in this affluent St. Louis suburb.

Missouri was the first state to ban abortion after Roe fell; it is outlawed except in “cases of medical emergency.” The measure would add the right to abortion to the state constitution.

Larry Bax, 65, of St. Charles County, said he votes Republican most of the time but signed the ballot measure petition along with his wife, Debbie Bax, 66.

“We were never single-issue voters. Never in our life,” he said. “This has made us single-issue because this is so wrong.”

They won’t vote for Hawley this fall, they said, but are unsure if they’ll support the Democratic nominee.

Jim Seidel, 64, who lives in Wright City, 50 miles west of St. Louis, also signed the petition. He said he believes Missourians deserve the opportunity to vote on the issue.

“I’ve been a Republican all my life until just recently,” Seidel said. “It’s just gone really wacky.”

He plans to vote for Kunce in November if he wins the Democratic primary in August, as seems likely. Seidel previously voted for a few Democrats, including Bill Clinton and Claire McCaskill, whom Hawley unseated as senator six years ago.

“Most of the time,” he added, Hawley is “strongly in the wrong camp.”

Over about two hours in conservative St. Charles, KFF Health News observed only one person actively declining to sign the petition. The woman told the volunteers she and her family opposed abortion rights and quickly walked away. The Catholic Church has discouraged voters from signing. At St. Joseph Parish in a nearby suburb, for example, a sign flashed: “Decline to Sign Reproductive Health Petition!”

The ballot measure organizers turned in more than twice the required number of signatures May 3, though, and now await certification from the secretary of state’s office.

Larry Bax’s concern goes beyond abortion and the ballot measure in Missouri. He worries about more governmental limits on reproductive care, such as on IVF or birth control. “How much further can that reach extend?” he said. Kunce is banking on enough voters feeling like Bax and Seidel to get an upset similar to the one that occurred in 2012 for the same seat — also over abortion. McCaskill defeated Republican Todd Akin that year, largely because of his infamous response when asked about abortion: “If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down.”

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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JACKSONVILLE, Ill. — Heather Crivilare was a month from her due date when she was rushed to an operating room for an emergency cesarean section.

The first-time mother, a high school teacher in rural Illinois, had developed high blood pressure, a sometimes life-threatening condition in pregnancy that prompted doctors to hospitalize her. Then Crivilare’s blood pressure spiked, and the baby’s heart rate dropped. “It was terrifying,” Crivilare said.

She gave birth to a healthy daughter. What followed, though, was another ordeal: thousands of dollars in medical debt that sent Crivilare and her husband scrambling for nearly a year to keep collectors at bay.

The Crivilares would eventually get on nine payment plans as they juggled close to $5,000 in bills.

“It really felt like a full-time job some days,” Crivilare recalled. “Getting the baby down to sleep and then getting on the phone. I’d set up one payment plan, and then a new bill would come that afternoon. And I’d have to set up another one.”

Crivilare’s pregnancy may have been more dramatic than most. But for millions of new parents, medical debt is now as much a hallmark of having children as long nights and dirty diapers.

About 12% of the 100 million U.S. adults with health care debt attribute at least some of it to pregnancy or childbirth, according to a KFF poll.

These people are more likely to report they’ve had to take on extra work, change their living situation, or make other sacrifices.

Overall, women between 18 and 35 who have had a baby in the past year and a half are twice as likely to have medical debt as women of the same age who haven’t given birth recently, other KFF research conducted for this project found.

“You feel bad for the patient because you know that they want the best for their pregnancy,” said Eilean Attwood, a Rhode Island OB-GYN who said she routinely sees pregnant women anxious about going into debt.

“So often, they may be coming to the office or the hospital with preexisting debt from school, from other financial pressures of starting adult life,” Attwood said. “They are having to make real choices, and what those real choices may entail can include the choice to not get certain services or medications or what may be needed for the care of themselves or their fetus.”

Best-Laid Plans

Crivilare and her husband, Andrew, also a teacher, anticipated some of the costs.

The young couple settled in Jacksonville, in part because the farming community less than two hours north of St. Louis was the kind of place two public school teachers could afford a house. They saved aggressively. They bought life insurance.

And before Crivilare got pregnant in 2021, they enrolled in the most robust health insurance plan they could, paying higher premiums to minimize their deductible and out-of-pocket costs.

Then, two months before their baby was due, Crivilare learned she had developed preeclampsia. Her pregnancy would no longer be routine. Crivilare was put on blood pressure medication, and doctors at the local hospital recommended bed rest at a larger medical center in Springfield, about 35 miles away.

“I remember thinking when they insisted that I ride an ambulance from Jacksonville to Springfield … ‘I’m never going to financially recover from this,’” she said. “‘But I want my baby to be OK.’”

For weeks, Crivilare remained in the hospital alone as covid protocols limited visitors. Meanwhile, doctors steadily upped her medications while monitoring the fetus. It was, she said, “the scariest month of my life.”

Fear turned to relief after her daughter, Rita, was born. The baby was small and had to spend nearly two weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit. But there were no complications. “We were incredibly lucky,” Crivilare said.

When she and Rita finally came home, a stack of medical bills awaited. One was already past due.

Crivilare rushed to set up payment plans with the hospitals in Jacksonville and Springfield, as well as the anesthesiologist, the surgeon, and the labs. Some providers demanded hundreds of dollars a month. Some settled for monthly payments of $20 or $25. Some pushed Crivilare to apply for new credit cards to pay the bills.

“It was a blur of just being on the phone constantly with all the different people collecting money,” she recalled. “That was a nightmare.”

Big Bills, Big Consequences

The Crivilares’ bills weren’t unusual. Parents with private health coverage now face on average more than $3,000 in medical bills related to a pregnancy and childbirth that aren’t covered by insurance, researchers at the University of Michigan found.

Out-of-pocket costs are even higher for families with a newborn who needs to stay in a neonatal ICU, averaging $5,000. And for 1 in 11 of these families, medical bills related to pregnancy and childbirth exceed $10,000, the researchers found.

“This forces very difficult trade-offs for families,” said Michelle Moniz, a University of Michigan OB-GYN who worked on the study. “Even though they have insurance, they still have these very high bills.”

Nationwide polls suggest millions of these families end up in debt, with sometimes devastating consequences.

About three-quarters of U.S. adults with debt related to pregnancy or childbirth have cut spending on food, clothing, or other essentials, KFF polling found.

About half have put off buying a home or delayed their own or their children’s education.

These burdens have spurred calls to limit what families must pay out-of-pocket for medical care related to pregnancy and childbirth.

In Massachusetts, state Sen. Cindy Friedman has proposed legislation to exempt all these bills from copays, deductibles, and other cost sharing. This would parallel federal rules that require health plans to cover recommended preventive services like annual physicals without cost sharing for patients. “We want … healthy children, and that starts with healthy mothers,” Friedman said. Massachusetts health insurers have warned the proposal will raise costs, but an independent state analysis estimated the bill would add only $1.24 to monthly insurance premiums.

Tough Lessons

For her part, Crivilare said she wishes new parents could catch their breath before paying down medical debt.

“No one is in the right frame of mind to deal with that when they have a new baby,” she said, noting that college graduates get such a break. “When I graduated with my college degree, it was like: ‘Hey, new adult, it’s going to take you six months to kind of figure out your life, so we’ll give you this six-month grace period before your student loans kick in and you can get a job.’”

Rita is now 2. The family scraped by on their payment plans, retiring the medical debt within a year, with help from Crivilare’s side job selling resources for teachers online.

But they are now back in debt, after Rita’s recurrent ear infections required surgery last year, leaving the family with thousands of dollars in new medical bills.

Crivilare said the stress has made her think twice about seeing a doctor, even for Rita. And, she added, she and her husband have decided their family is complete.

“It’s not for us to have another child,” she said. “I just hope that we can put some of these big bills behind us and give [Rita] the life that we want to give her.”

About This Project

“Diagnosis: Debt” is a reporting partnership between KFF Health News and NPR exploring the scale, impact, and causes of medical debt in America.

The series draws on original polling by KFF, court records, federal data on hospital finances, contracts obtained through public records requests, data on international health systems, and a yearlong investigation into the financial assistance and collection policies of more than 500 hospitals across the country. 

Additional research was conducted by the Urban Institute, which analyzed credit bureau and other demographic data on poverty, race, and health status for KFF Health News to explore where medical debt is concentrated in the U.S. and what factors are associated with high debt levels.

The JPMorgan Chase Institute analyzed records from a sampling of Chase credit card holders to look at how customers’ balances may be affected by major medical expenses. And the CED Project, a Denver nonprofit, worked with KFF Health News on a survey of its clients to explore links between medical debt and housing instability. 

KFF Health News journalists worked with KFF public opinion researchers to design and analyze the “KFF Health Care Debt Survey.” The survey was conducted Feb. 25 through March 20, 2022, online and via telephone, in English and Spanish, among a nationally representative sample of 2,375 U.S. adults, including 1,292 adults with current health care debt and 382 adults who had health care debt in the past five years. The margin of sampling error is plus or minus 3 percentage points for the full sample and 3 percentage points for those with current debt. For results based on subgroups, the margin of sampling error may be higher.

Reporters from KFF Health News and NPR also conducted hundreds of interviews with patients across the country; spoke with physicians, health industry leaders, consumer advocates, debt lawyers, and researchers; and reviewed scores of studies and surveys about medical debt.

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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Bill Thompson’s wife had never seen him smile with confidence. For the first 20 years of their relationship, an infection in his mouth robbed him of teeth, one by one.

“I didn’t have any teeth to smile with,” the 53-year-old of Independence, Missouri, said.

Thompson said he dealt with throbbing toothaches and painful swelling in his face from abscesses for years working as a cook at Burger King. He desperately needed to see a dentist but said he couldn’t afford to take time off without pay. Missouri is one of many states that do not require employers to provide paid sick leave.

So, Thompson would swallow Tylenol and push through the pain as he worked over the hot grill.

“Either we go to work, have a paycheck,” Thompson said. “Or we take care of ourselves. We can’t take care of ourselves because, well, this vicious circle that we’re stuck in.”

In a nation that was sharply divided about government health mandates during the covid-19 pandemic, the public has been warming to the idea of government rules providing for paid sick leave.

Before the pandemic, 10 states and the District of Columbia had laws requiring employers to provide paid sick leave. Since then, Colorado, New York, New Mexico, Illinois, and Minnesota have passed laws offering some kind of paid time off for illness. Oregon and California expanded previous paid leave laws. In Missouri, Alaska, and Nebraska, advocates are pushing to put the issue on the ballot this fall.

The U.S. is one of nine countries that do not guarantee paid sick leave, according to data compiled by the World Policy Analysis Center.

In response to the pandemic, Congress passed the Emergency Paid Sick Leave and Emergency Family and Medical Leave Expansion acts. These temporary measures allowed employees to take up to two weeks of paid sick leave for covid-related illness and caregiving. But the provisions expired in 2021.

“When the pandemic hit, we finally saw some real political will to solve the problem of not having federal paid sick leave,” said economist Hilary Wething.

Wething co-authored a recent Economic Policy Institute report on the state of sick leave in the United States. It found that more than half, 61%, of the lowest-paid workers can’t get time off for an illness.

“I was really surprised by how quickly losing pay — because you’re sick — can translate into immediate and devastating cuts to a family’s household budget,” she said.

Wething noted that the lost wages of even a day or two can be equivalent to a month’s worth of gasoline a worker would need to get to their job, or the choice between paying an electric bill or buying food. Wething said showing up to work sick poses a risk to co-workers and customers alike. Low-paying jobs that often lack paid sick leave — like cashiers, nail technicians, home health aides, and fast-food workers — involve lots of face-to-face interactions.

“So paid sick leave is about both protecting the public health of a community and providing the workers the economic security that they desperately need when they need to take time away from work,” she said.

The National Federation of Independent Business has opposed mandatory sick leave rules at the state level, arguing that workplaces should have the flexibility to work something out with their employees when they get sick. The group said the cost of paying workers for time off, extra paperwork, and lost productivity burdens small employers.

According to a report by the National Bureau of Economic Research, once these mandates go into effect, employees take, on average, two more sick days a year than before a law took effect.

Illinois’ paid time off rules went into effect this year. Lauren Pattan is co-owner of the Old Bakery Beer Co. there. Before this year, the craft brewery did not offer paid time off for its hourly employees. Pattan said she supports Illinois’ new law but she has to figure out how to pay for it.

“We really try to be respectful of our employees and be a good place to work, and at the same time we get worried about not being able to afford things,” she said.

That could mean customers have to pay more to cover the cost, Pattan said.

As for Bill Thompson, he wrote an op-ed for the Kansas City Star newspaper about his dental struggles.

“Despite working nearly 40 hours a week, many of my co-workers are homeless,” he wrote. “Without health care, none of us can afford a doctor or a dentist.”

That op-ed generated attention locally and, in 2018, a dentist in his community donated his time and labor to remove Thompson’s remaining teeth and replace them with dentures. This allowed his mouth to recover from the infections he’d been dealing with for years. Today, Thompson has a new smile and a job — with paid sick leave — working in food service at a hotel.

In his free time, he’s been collecting signatures to put an initiative on the November ballot that would guarantee at least five days of earned paid sick leave a year for Missouri workers. Organizers behind the petition said they have enough signatures to take it before the voters.

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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HOUSTON — Patients admitted to Houston Methodist Hospital get a monitoring device about the size of a half-dollar affixed to their chest — and an unwitting role in the expanding use of artificial intelligence in health care.

The slender, battery-powered gadget, called a BioButton, records vital signs including heart and breathing rates, then wirelessly sends the readings to nurses sitting in a 24-hour control room elsewhere in the hospital or in their homes. The device’s software uses AI to analyze the voluminous data and detect signs a patient’s condition is deteriorating.

Hospital officials say the BioButton has improved care and reduced the workload of bedside nurses since its rollout last year.

“Because we catch things earlier, patients are doing better, as we don’t have to wait for the bedside team to notice if something is going wrong,” said Sarah Pletcher, system vice president at Houston Methodist.

But some nurses fear the technology could wind up replacing them rather than supporting them — and harming patients. Houston Methodist, one of dozens of U.S. hospitals to employ the device, is the first to use the BioButton to monitor all patients except those in intensive care, Pletcher said.

“The hype around a lot of these devices is they provide care at scale for less labor costs,” said Michelle Mahon, a registered nurse and an assistant director of National Nurses United, the profession’s largest U.S. union. “This is a trend that we find disturbing,” she said.

The rollout of BioButton is among the latest examples of hospitals deploying technology to improve efficiency and address a decades-old nursing shortage. But that transition has raised its own concerns, including about the device’s use of AI; polls show the public is wary of health providers relying on it for patient care.

In December 2022 the FDA cleared the BioButton for use in adult patients who are not in critical care. It is one of many AI tools now used by hospitals for tasks like reading diagnostic imaging results.

In 2023, President Joe Biden directed the Department of Health and Human Services to develop a plan to regulate AI in hospitals, including by collecting reports of patients harmed by its use.

The leader of BioIntelliSense, which developed the BioButton, said its device is a huge advance compared with nurses walking into a room every few hours to measure vital signs. “With AI, you now move from ‘I wonder why this patient crashed’ to ‘I can see this crash coming before it happens and intervene appropriately,’” said James Mault, CEO of the Golden, Colorado-based company.

The BioButton stays on the skin with an adhesive, is waterproof, and has up to a 30-day battery life. The company says the device — which allows providers to quickly notice deteriorating health by recording more than 1,000 measurements a day per patient — has been used on more than 80,000 hospital patients nationwide in the past year.

Hospitals pay BioIntelliSense an annual subscription fee for the devices and software.

Houston Methodist officials would not reveal how much the hospital pays for the technology, though Pletcher said it equates to less than a cup of coffee a day per patient.

For a hospital system that treats thousands of patients at a time — Houston Methodist has 2,653 non-ICU beds at its eight Houston-area hospitals — such an investment could still translate to millions of dollars a year.

Hospital officials say they have not made any changes in nurse staffing and have no plans to because of implementing the BioButton.

Inside the hospital’s control center for virtual monitoring on a recent morning, about 15 nurses and technicians dressed in scrubs sat in front of large monitors showing the health status of hundreds of patients they were assigned to monitor.

A red checkmark next to a patient’s name signaled the AI software had found readings trending outside normal. Staff members could click into a patient’s medical record, showing patients’ vital signs over time and other medical history. These virtual nurses, if you will, could contact nurses on the floor by phone or email, or even dial directly into the patient’s room via video call.

Nutanben Gandhi, a technician who was watching 446 patients on her monitor that morning, said that when she gets an alert, she looks at the patient’s health record to see if the anomaly can be easily explained by something in the patient’s condition or if she needs to contact nurses on the patient’s floor.

Oftentimes an alert can be easily dismissed. But identifying signs of deteriorating health can be tough, said Steve Klahn, Houston Methodist’s clinical director of virtual medicine.

“We are looking for a needle in a haystack,” he said.

Donald Eustes, 65, was admitted to Houston Methodist in March for prostate cancer treatment and has since been treated for a stroke. He is happy to wear the BioButton.

“You never know what can happen here, and having an extra set of eyes looking at you is a good thing,” he said from his hospital bed. After being told the device uses AI, the Montgomery, Texas, man said he has no problem with its helping his clinical team. “This sounds like a good use of artificial intelligence.”

Patients and nurses alike benefit from remote monitoring like the BioButton, said Pletcher of Houston Methodist.

The hospital has placed small cameras and microphones inside all patient rooms enabling nurses outside to communicate with patients and perform tasks such as helping with patient admissions and discharge instructions. Patients can include family members on the remote calls with nurses or a doctor, she said.

Virtual technology frees up on-duty nurses to provide more hands-on help, such as starting an intravenous line, Pletcher said. With the BioButton, nurses can wait to take routine vital signs every eight hours instead of every four, she said.

Pletcher said the device reduces nurses’ stress in monitoring patients and allows some to work more flexible hours because virtual care can be done from home rather than coming to the hospital. Ultimately it helps retain nurses, not drive them away, she said.

Sheeba Roy, a nurse manager at Houston Methodist, said some members of the nursing staff were nervous about relying on the device and not checking patients’ vital signs as often themselves. But testing has shown the device provides accurate information.

“After we implemented it, the staff loves it,” Roy said.

Serena Bumpus, chief executive officer of the Texas Nurses Association, said her concern with any technology is that it can be more burdensome on nurses and take away time with patients.

“We have to be hypervigilant in ensuring that we are not leaning on this to replace the ability of nurses to critically think and assess patients and validate what this device is telling us is true,” Bumpus said.

Houston Methodist this year plans to send the BioButton home with patients so the hospital can better track their progress in the weeks after discharge, measuring the quality of their sleep and checking their gait.

“We are not going to need less nurses in health care, but we have limited resources and we have to use those as thoughtfully as we can,” Pletcher said. “Looking at projected demand and seeing the supply we have coming, we will not have enough to meet demand, so anything we can do to give time back to nurses is a good thing.”

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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James Lemons, 39, wants the bullet removed from his thigh so he can go back to work.

Sarai Holguin, a 71-year-old woman originally from Mexico, has accepted the bullet lodged near her knee as her “compa” — a close friend.

The Injured They Were Injured at the Super Bowl Parade. A Month Later, They Feel Forgotten.

In the first of our series “The Injured,” a Kansas family remembers Valentine’s Day as the beginning of panic attacks, life-altering trauma, and waking to nightmares of gunfire. Thrown into the spotlight by the shootings, they wonder how they will recover.

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Mireya Nelson, 15, was hit by a bullet that went through her jaw and broke her shoulder, where fragments remain. She’ll live with them for now, while doctors monitor lead levels in her blood for at least two years.

Nearly three months after the Kansas City Chiefs Super Bowl parade shooting left at least 24 people injured, recovery from those wounds is intensely personal and includes a surprising gray area in medicine: whether the bullets should be removed.

Medical protocol offers no clear answer. A 2016 survey of surgeons found that only about 15% of respondents worked at medical facilities that had policies on bullet removal. Doctors in the U.S. often leave bullets buried deep in a person’s body, at least at first, so as not to cause further trauma.

But as gun violence has emerged as a public health epidemic, some researchers wonder if that practice is best. Some of the wounded, like James Lemons, are left in a precarious place.

“If there’s a way to get it out, and it’s safely taken out, get it out of the person,” Lemons said. “Make that person feel more secure about themselves. And you’re not walking around with that memory in you.”

Lemons, Holguin, and Nelson are coping in very different ways.

Pain Became a Problem

Three days after the Chiefs won the Super Bowl, Lemons drove the 37 miles from Harrisonville, Missouri, to downtown Kansas City to celebrate the victory. The warehouse worker was carrying his 5-year-old daughter, Kensley, on his shoulders when he felt a bullet enter the back of his right thigh.

Gunfire erupted in the area packed with revelers, prosecutors later said, after a “verbal confrontation” between two groups. Detectives found “multiple 9mm and .40 caliber spent shell casings” at the scene. Lemons said he understood immediately what was happening.

“I know my city. We’re not shooting off fireworks,” he said.

Lemons shielded Kensley’s face as they fell to the ground so she wouldn’t hit the concrete. His first thought was getting his family — also including his wife, Brandie; 17-year-old daughter, Kallie; and 10-year-old son, Jaxson — to safety.

“I’m hit. But don’t worry about it,” Lemons recalled telling Brandie. “We gotta go.”

He carried Kensley on his shoulders as the family walked a mile to their car. His leg bled through his pants at first then stopped, he said. It burned with pain. Brandie insisted on driving him to the hospital but traffic was at a standstill so she put on her hazard lights and drove on the wrong side of the road.

“She’s like: ‘I’m getting you to a hospital. I’m tired of people being in my way,’” Lemons recalled. “I’ve never seen my wife like that. I’m looking at her like, ‘That’s kinda sexy.’”

Lemons clapped and smiled at his wife, he said, to which she replied, “What are you smiling for? You just got shot.” He stayed in quiet admiration until they were stopped by a sheriff, who summoned an ambulance, Lemons said.

He was taken to the emergency room at University Health, which admitted 12 patients from the rally, including eight with gunshot wounds. Imaging showed the bullet barely missed an artery, Lemons said. Doctors cleansed the wound, put his leg in a brace, and told him to come back in a week. The bullet was still in his leg.

“I was a little baffled by it, but I was like, ‘OK, whatever, I’ll get out of here,’” Lemons recalled.

When he returned, doctors removed the brace but explained they often leave bullets and fragments in the body — unless they grow too painful.

“I get it, but I don’t like that,” Lemons said. “Why wouldn’t you take it out if you could?”

University Health spokesperson Leslie Carto said the hospital can’t comment on individual patient care because of federal privacy laws.

Surgeons typically do remove bullets when they encounter them during surgery or they are in dangerous locations, like in the spinal canal or risking damage to an organ, said Brendan Campbell, a pediatric surgeon at Connecticut Children’s.

Campbell also chairs the Injury Prevention and Control Committee of the American College of Surgeons’ Committee on Trauma, which works on firearm injury prevention.

LJ Punch, a trauma surgeon by training and the founder of the Bullet Related Injury Clinic in St. Louis, said the origins of trauma care also help explain why bullets are so often left.

“Trauma care is war medicine,” Punch said. “It is set to be ready at any moment and any time, every day, to save a life. It is not equipped to take care of the healing that needs to come after.”

In the survey of surgeons, the most common reasons given for removing a bullet were pain, a palpable bullet lodged near the skin, or an infection. Far less common were lead poisoning and mental health concerns such as post-traumatic stress disorder and anxiety.

What patients wanted also affected their decisions, the surgeons said.

Lemons wanted the bullet out. The pain it caused in his leg radiated up from his thigh, making it difficult to move for more than an hour or two. Working his warehouse job was impossible.

“I gotta lift 100 pounds every night,” Lemons recalled telling his doctors. “I gotta lift my child. I can’t work like this.”

He has lost his income and his health insurance. Another stroke of bad luck: The family’s landlord sold their rental home soon after the parade, and they had to find a new place to live. This house is smaller, but it was important to keep the kids in the same school district with their friends, Lemons said in an interview in Kensley’s pink bedroom, the quietest spot to talk.

They’ve borrowed money and raised $6,500 on GoFundMe to help with the deposit and car repairs, but the parade shooting has left the family in a deep financial hole.

Without insurance, Lemons worried he couldn’t afford to have the bullet removed. Then he learned his surgery would be paid for by donations. He set up an appointment at a hospital north of the city, where a surgeon took measurements on his X-ray and explained the procedure.

“I need you to be involved as much as I’m going to be involved,” he remembered being told, “because — guess what — this ain’t my leg.”

The surgery is scheduled for this month.

‘We Became Friends’

Sarai Holguin isn’t much of a Chiefs fan, but she agreed to go to the rally at Union Station to show her friend the best spot to see the players on stage. It was an unseasonably warm day, and they were standing near an entrance where lots of police were stationed. Parents had babies in strollers, kids were playing football, and she felt safe.

A little before 2 p.m., Holguin heard what she thought were fireworks. People started running away from the stage. She turned to leave, trying to find her friend, but felt dizzy. She didn’t know she’d been shot. Three people quickly came to her aid and helped her to the ground, and a stranger took off his shirt and made a tourniquet to put on her left leg.

Holguin, a native of Puebla, Mexico, who became a U.S. citizen in 2018, had never seen so much chaos, so many paramedics working under such pressure. They were “anonymous heroes,” she said.

She saw them working on Lisa Lopez-Galvan, a well-known DJ and 43-year-old mother of two. Lopez-Galvan died at the scene, and was the sole fatality at the parade. Holguin was rushed to University Health, about five minutes from Union Station.

There doctors performed surgery, leaving the bullet in her leg. Holguin awoke to more chaos. She had lost her purse, along with her cellphone, so she couldn’t call her husband, Cesar. She had been admitted to the hospital under an alias — a common practice at medical centers to begin immediate care.

Her husband and daughter didn’t find her until about 10 p.m. — roughly eight hours after she’d been shot.

“It has been a huge trauma for me,” Holguin said through an interpreter. “I was injured and at the hospital without doing anything wrong. [The rally] was a moment to play, to relax, to be together.”

Holguin was hospitalized for a week, and two more outpatient surgeries quickly followed, mostly to remove dead tissue around the wound. She wore a wound VAC, or vacuum-assisted closure device, for several weeks and had medical appointments every other day.

Campbell, the trauma surgeon, said wound VACs are common when bullets damage tissue that isn’t easily reconstructed in surgery.

“It’s not just the physical injuries,” Campbell said. “Many times it’s the emotional, psychological injuries, which many of these patients take away as well.”

The bullet remains near Holguin’s knee.

“I’m going to have it for the rest of my life,” she said, saying she and the bullet became “compas,” close friends.

“We became friends so that she doesn’t do any bad to me anymore,” Holguin said with a smile.

Punch, of the Bullet Related Injury Clinic in St. Louis, said some people like Holguin are able to find a way to psychically live with bullets that remain.

“If you’re able to make a story around what that means for that bullet to be in your body, that gives you power; that gives you agency and choice,” Punch said.

Holguin’s life changed in an instant: She’s using a walker to get around. Her foot, she said, acts “like it had a stroke” — it dangles, and it’s difficult to move her toes.

The most frustrating consequence is that she cannot travel to see her 102-year-old father, still in Mexico. She has a live camera feed on her phone to see him, but that doesn’t offer much comfort, she said, and thinking about him brings tears.

She was told at the hospital that her medical bills would be taken care of, but then lots of them came in the mail. She tried to get victim assistance from the state of Missouri, but all the forms she had were in English, which made them difficult to comprehend. Renting the wound VAC alone cost $800 a month.

Finally she heard that the Mexican Consulate in Kansas City could help, and the consul pointed her to the Jackson County Prosecutor’s Office, with which she registered as an official victim. Now all of her bills are being paid, she said.

Holguin isn’t going to seek mental health treatment, as she believes one must learn to live with a given situation or it will become a burden.

“I have processed this new chapter in my life,” Holguin said. “I have never given up and I will move on with God’s help.”

‘I Saw Blood on My Hands’

Mireya Nelson was late to the parade. Her mother, Erika, told her she should leave early, given traffic and the million people expected to crowd into downtown Kansas City, but she and her teenage friends ignored that advice. The Nelsons live in Belton, Missouri, about a half hour south of the city.

Mireya wanted to hold the Super Bowl trophy. When she and her three friends arrived, the parade that had moved through downtown was over and the rally at Union Station had begun. They were stuck in the large crowd and quickly grew bored, Mireya said.

Getting ready to leave, Mireya and one of her friends were trying to call the driver of their group, but they couldn’t get cell service in the large crowd.

Amid the chaos of people and noise, Mireya suddenly fell.

“I saw blood on my hands. So then I knew I got shot. Yeah, and I just crawled to a tree,” Mireya said. “I actually didn’t know where I got shot at, at first. I just saw blood on my hands.”

The bullet grazed Mireya’s chin, shot through her jaw, broke her shoulder, and left through her arm. Bullet fragments remain in her shoulder. Doctors decided to leave them because Mireya had already suffered so much damage.

Mireya’s mother supports that decision, for now, noting they were just “fragments.”

“I think if it’s not going to harm her the rest of her life,” Erika said, “I don’t want her to keep going back in the hospital and getting surgery. That’s more trauma to her and more recovery time, more physical therapy and stuff like that.”

Bullet fragments, particularly ones only skin-deep, often push their way out like splinters, according to Punch, although patients aren’t always told about that. Moreover, Punch said, injuries caused by bullets extend beyond those with damaged tissue to the people around them, like Erika. He called for a holistic approach to recover from all the trauma.

“When people stay in their trauma, that trauma can change them for a lifetime,” Punch said.

Mireya will be tested for lead levels in her blood for at least the next two years. Her levels are fine now, doctors told the family, but if they get worse she will need surgery to remove the fragments, her mother said.

Campbell, the pediatric surgeon, said lead is particularly concerning for young children, whose developing brains make them especially vulnerable to its harmful effects. Even a tiny amount of lead — 3.5 micrograms per deciliter — is enough to report to state health officials, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Mireya talks about cute teenage boys’ being “fine” but also still wears Cookie Monster pajamas. She appears confused by the shootings, by all the attention at home, at school, from reporters. Asked how she feels about the fragments in her arm, she said, “I don’t really care for them.”

Mireya was on antibiotics for 10 days after her hospital stay because doctors feared there was bacteria in the wound. She has had physical therapy, but it’s painful to do the exercises. She has a scar on her chin. “A dent,” she said, that’s “bumpy.”

“They said she was lucky because if she wouldn’t have turned her head in a certain way, she could be gone,” Erika said.

Mireya faces a psychiatric evaluation and therapy appointments, though she doesn’t like to talk about her feelings.

So far, Erika’s insurance is paying the medical bills, though she hopes to get some help from the United Way’s #KCStrong fund, which raised nearly $1.9 million, or a faith-based organization called Unite KC.

Erika doesn’t want a handout. She has a job in health care and just got a promotion.

The bullet has changed the family’s life in big ways. It is part of their conversation now. They talk about how they wish they knew what kind of ammunition it was, or what it looked like.

“Like, I wanted to keep the bullet that went through my arm,” Mireya said. “I want to know what kind of bullet it was.” That brought a sigh from her mom, who said her daughter had watched too many episodes of “Forensic Files.”

Erika beats herself up about the wound, because she couldn’t protect her daughter at the parade.

“It hits me hard because I feel bad because she begged me to get off work and I didn’t go there because when you have a new position, you can’t just take off work,” Erika said. “Because I would have took the bullet. Because I would do anything. It’s mom mode.”

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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When dermatologist Adewole “Ade” Adamson sees people spritzing sunscreen as if it’s cologne at the pool where he lives in Austin, Texas, he wants to intervene. “My wife says I shouldn’t,” he said, “even though most people rarely use enough sunscreen.”

At issue is not just whether people are using enough sunscreen, but what ingredients are in it.

The Food and Drug Administration’s ability to approve the chemical filters in sunscreens that are sold in countries such as Japan, South Korea, and France is hamstrung by a 1938 U.S. law that requires sunscreens to be tested on animals and classified as drugs, rather than as cosmetics as they are in much of the world. So Americans are not likely to get those better sunscreens — which block the ultraviolet rays that can cause skin cancer and lead to wrinkles — in time for this summer, or even the next.

Sunscreen makers say that requirement is unfair because companies including BASF Corp. and L’Oréal, which make the newer sunscreen chemicals, submitted safety data on sunscreen chemicals to the European Union authorities some 20 years ago.

Steven Goldberg, a retired vice president of BASF, said companies are wary of the FDA process because of the cost and their fear that additional animal testing could ignite a consumer backlash in the European Union, which bans animal testing of cosmetics, including sunscreen. The companies are asking Congress to change the testing requirements before they take steps to enter the U.S. marketplace.

In a rare example of bipartisanship last summer, Sen. Mike Lee (R-Utah) thanked Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.) for urging the FDA to speed up approvals of new, more effective sunscreen ingredients. Now a bipartisan bill is pending in the House that would require the FDA to allow non-animal testing.

“It goes back to sunscreens being classified as over-the-counter drugs,” said Carl D’Ruiz, a senior manager at DSM-Firmenich, a Switzerland-based maker of sunscreen chemicals. “It’s really about giving the U.S. consumer something that the rest of the world has. People aren’t dying from using sunscreen. They’re dying from melanoma.”

Every hour, at least two people die of skin cancer in the United States. Skin cancer is the most common cancer in America, and 6.1 million adults are treated each year for basal cell and squamous cell carcinomas, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The nation’s second-most-common cancer, breast cancer, is diagnosed about 300,000 times annually, though it is far more deadly.

Dermatologists Offer Tips on Keeping Skin Safe and Healthy

– Stay in the shade during peak sunlight hours, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. daylight time.– Wear hats and sunglasses.– Use UV-blocking sun umbrellas and clothing.– Reapply sunscreen every two hours.You can order overseas versions of sunscreens from online pharmacies such as Cocooncenter in France. Keep in mind that the same brands may have different ingredients if sold in U.S. stores. But importing your sunscreen may not be affordable or practical. “The best sunscreen is the one that you will use over and over again,” said Jane Yoo, a New York City dermatologist.

Though skin cancer treatment success rates are excellent, 1 in 5 Americans will develop skin cancer by age 70. The disease costs the health care system $8.9 billion a year, according to CDC researchers. One study found that the annual cost of treating skin cancer in the United States more than doubled from 2002 to 2011, while the average annual cost for all other cancers increased by just 25%. And unlike many other cancers, most forms of skin cancer can largely be prevented — by using sunscreens and taking other precautions.

But a heavy dose of misinformation has permeated the sunscreen debate, and some people question the safety of sunscreens sold in the United States, which they deride as “chemical” sunscreens. These sunscreen opponents prefer “physical” or “mineral” sunscreens, such as zinc oxide, even though all sunscreen ingredients are chemicals.

“It’s an artificial categorization,” said E. Dennis Bashaw, a retired FDA official who ran the agency’s clinical pharmacology division that studies sunscreens.

Still, such concerns were partly fed by the FDA itself after it published a study that said some sunscreen ingredients had been found in trace amounts in human bloodstreams. When the FDA said in 2019, and then again two years later, that older sunscreen ingredients needed to be studied more to see if they were safe, sunscreen opponents saw an opening, said Nadim Shaath, president of Alpha Research & Development, which imports chemicals used in cosmetics.

“That’s why we have extreme groups and people who aren’t well informed thinking that something penetrating the skin is the end of the world,” Shaath said. “Anything you put on your skin or eat is absorbed.”

Adamson, the Austin dermatologist, said some sunscreen ingredients have been used for 30 years without any population-level evidence that they have harmed anyone. “The issue for me isn’t the safety of the sunscreens we have,” he said. “It’s that some of the chemical sunscreens aren’t as broad spectrum as they could be, meaning they do not block UVA as well. This could be alleviated by the FDA allowing new ingredients.”

Ultraviolet radiation falls between X-rays and visible light on the electromagnetic spectrum. Most of the UV rays that people come in contact with are UVA rays that can penetrate the middle layer of the skin and that cause up to 90% of skin aging, along with a smaller amount of UVB rays that are responsible for sunburns.

The sun protection factor, or SPF, rating on American sunscreen bottles denotes only a sunscreen’s ability to block UVB rays. Although American sunscreens labeled “broad spectrum” should, in theory, block UVA light, some studies have shown they fail to meet the European Union’s higher UVA-blocking standards.

“It looks like a number of these newer chemicals have a better safety profile in addition to better UVA protection,” said David Andrews, deputy director of Environmental Working Group, a nonprofit that researches the ingredients in consumer products. “We have asked the FDA to consider allowing market access.”

The FDA defends its review process and its call for tests of the sunscreens sold in American stores as a way to ensure the safety of products that many people use daily, rather than just a few times a year at the beach.

“Many Americans today rely on sunscreens as a key part of their skin cancer prevention strategy, which makes satisfactory evidence of both safety and effectiveness of these products critical for public health,” Cherie Duvall-Jones, an FDA spokesperson, wrote in an email.

D’Ruiz’s company, DSM-Firmenich, is the only one currently seeking to have a new over-the-counter sunscreen ingredient approved in the United States. The company has spent the past 20 years trying to gain approval for bemotrizinol, a process D’Ruiz said has cost $18 million and has advanced fitfully, despite attempts by Congress in 2014 and 2020 to speed along applications for new UV filters.

Bemotrizinol is the bedrock ingredient in nearly all European and Asian sunscreens, including those by the South Korean brand Beauty of Joseon and Bioré, a Japanese brand.

D’Ruiz said bemotrizinol could secure FDA approval by the end of 2025. If it does, he said, bemotrizinol would be the most vetted and safest sunscreen ingredient on the market, outperforming even the safety profiles of zinc oxide and titanium dioxide.

As Congress and the FDA debate, many Americans have taken to importing their own sunscreens from Asia or Europe, despite the risk of fake products.

“The sunscreen issue has gotten people to see that you can be unsafe if you’re too slow,” said Alex Tabarrok, a professor of economics at George Mason University. “The FDA is just incredibly slow. They’ve been looking at this now literally for 40 years. Congress has ordered them to do it, and they still haven’t done it.”

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Miguel Divo, a lung specialist at Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston, sits in an exam room across from Joel Rubinstein, who has asthma. Rubinstein, a retired psychiatrist, is about to get a checkup and hear a surprising pitch — for the planet, as well as his health.

Divo explains that boot-shaped inhalers, which represent nearly 90% of the U.S. market for asthma medication, save lives but also contribute to climate change. Each puff from an inhaler releases a hydrofluorocarbon gas that is 1,430 to 3,000 times as powerful as the most commonly known greenhouse gas, carbon dioxide.

“That absolutely never occurred to me,” said Rubinstein. “Especially, I mean, these are little, teeny things.”

So Divo has begun offering a more eco-friendly option to some patients with asthma and other lung diseases: a plastic, gray cylinder about the size and shape of a hockey puck that contains powdered medicine. Patients suck the powder into their lungs — no puff of gas required and no greenhouse gas emissions.

“You have the same medications, two different delivery systems,” Divo said.

Patients in the United States are prescribed roughly 144 million of what doctors call metered-dose inhalers each year, according to the most recently available data published in 2020. The cumulative amount of gas released is the equivalent of driving half a million gas-powered cars for a year. So, the benefits of moving to dry powder inhalers from gas inhalers could add up.

Hydrofluorocarbon gas contributes to climate change, which is creating more wildfire smoke, other types of air pollution, and longer allergy seasons. These conditions can make breathing more difficult — especially for people with asthma and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, or COPD — and increase the use of inhalers.

Divo is one of a small but growing number of U.S. physicians determined to reverse what they see as an unhealthy cycle.

“There is only one planet and one human race,” Divo said. “We are creating our own problems and we need to do something.”

So Divo is working with patients like Rubinstein who may be willing to switch to dry powder inhalers. Rubinstein said no to the idea at first because the powder inhaler would have been more expensive. Then his insurer increased the copay on the metered-dose inhaler so Rubinstein decided to try the dry powder.

“For me, price is a big thing,” said Rubinstein, who has tracked health care and pharmaceutical spending in his professional roles for years. Inhaling the medicine using more of his own lung power was an adjustment. “The powder is a very strange thing, to blow powder into your mouth and lungs.”

But for Rubinstein, the new inhaler works and his asthma is under control. A recent study found that some patients in the United Kingdom who use dry powder inhalers have better asthma control while reducing greenhouse gas emissions. In Sweden, where the vast majority of patients use dry powder inhalers, rates of severe asthma are lower than in the United States.

Rubinstein is one of a small number of U.S. patients who have made the transition. Divo said that, for a variety of reasons, only about a quarter of his patients even consider switching. Dry powder inhalers are often more expensive than gas propellant inhalers. For some, dry powder isn’t a good option because not all asthma or COPD sufferers can get their medications in this form. And dry powder inhalers aren’t recommended for young children or elderly patients with diminished lung strength.

Also, some patients using dry powder inhalers worry that without the noise from the spray, they may not be receiving the proper dose. Other patients don’t like the taste powder inhalers can leave in their mouths.

Divo said his priority is making sure patients have an inhaler they are comfortable using and that they can afford. But, when appropriate, he’ll keep offering the dry powder option.

Advocacy groups for asthma and COPD patients support more conversations about the connection between inhalers and climate change.

“The climate crisis makes these individuals have a higher risk of exacerbation and worsening disease,” said Albert Rizzo, chief medical officer of the American Lung Association. “We don’t want medications to contribute to that.”

Rizzo said there is work being done to make metered-dose inhalers more climate-friendly. The United States and many other countries are phasing down the use of hydrofluorocarbons, which are also used in refrigerators and air conditioners. It’s part of the global attempt to avoid the worst possible impacts of climate change. But inhaler manufacturers are largely exempt from those requirements and can continue to use the gases while they explore new options.

Some leading inhaler manufacturers have pledged to produce canisters with less potent greenhouse gases and to submit them for regulatory review by next year. It’s not clear when these inhalers might be available in pharmacies. Separately, the FDA is spending about $6 million on a study about the challenges of developing inhalers with a smaller carbon footprint.

Rizzo and other lung specialists worry these changes will translate into higher prices. That’s what happened in the early to mid-2000s when ozone-depleting chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs) were phased out of inhalers. Manufacturers changed the gas in metered-dose inhalers and the cost to patients nearly doubled. Today, many of those re-engineered inhalers remain expensive.

William Feldman, a pulmonologist and health policy researcher at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, said these dramatic price increases occur because manufacturers register updated inhalers as new products, even though they deliver medications already on the market. The manufacturers are then awarded patents, which prevent the production of competing generic medications for decades. The Federal Trade Commission says it is cracking down on this practice.

After the CFC ban, “manufacturers earned billions of dollars from the inhalers,” Feldman said of the re-engineered inhalers.

When inhaler costs went up, physicians say, patients cut back on puffs and suffered more asthma attacks. Gregg Furie, medical director for climate and sustainability at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, is worried that’s about to happen again.

“While these new propellants are potentially a real positive development, there’s also a significant risk that we’re going to see patients and payers face significant cost hikes,” Furie said.

Some of the largest inhaler manufacturers, including GSK, are already under scrutiny for allegedly inflating prices in the United States. Sydney Dodson-Nease told NPR and KFF Health News that the company has a strong record for keeping medicines accessible to patients but that it’s too early to comment on the price of the more environmentally sensitive inhalers the company is developing.

Developing affordable, effective, and climate-friendly inhalers will be important for hospitals as well as patients. The Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality recommends that hospitals looking to shrink their carbon footprint reduce inhaler emissions. Some hospital administrators see switching inhalers as low-hanging fruit on the list of climate-change improvements a hospital might make.

But Brian Chesebro, medical director of environmental stewardship at Providence, a hospital network in Oregon, said, “It’s not as easy as swapping inhalers.”

Chesebro said that even among metered-dose inhalers, the climate impact varies. So pharmacists should suggest the inhalers with the fewest greenhouse gas emissions. Insurers should also adjust reimbursements to favor climate-friendly alternatives, he said, and regulators could consider emissions when reviewing hospital performance.

Samantha Green, a family physician in Toronto, said clinicians can make a big difference with inhaler emissions by starting with the question: Does the patient in front of me really need one?

Green, who works on a project to make inhalers more environmentally sustainable, said that research shows a third of adults diagnosed with asthma may not have the disease.

“So that’s an easy place to start,” Green said. “Make sure the patient prescribed an inhaler is actually benefiting from it.”

Green said educating patients has a measurable effect. In her experience, patients are moved to learn that emissions from the approximately 200 puffs in one inhaler are equivalent to driving about 100 miles in a gas-powered car. Some researchers say switching to dry powder inhalers may be as beneficial for the climate as a patient adopting a vegetarian diet.

One of the hospitals in Green’s health care network, St. Joseph’s Health Centre, found that talking to patients about inhalers led to a significant decrease in the use of metered-dose devices. Over six months, the hospital went from 70% of patients using the puffers, to 30%.

Green said patients who switched to dry powder inhalers have largely stuck with them and appreciate using a device that is less likely to exacerbate environmental conditions that inflame asthma.

This article is from a partnership that includes WBUR, NPR, and KFF Health News.

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KFF Health News senior correspondent Samantha Young discussed Medicaid and climate change on KCBS Radio’s “On-Demand” podcast on April 29.

• Click here to hear Young on KCBS
• Read Young’s “AC, Power Banks, Mini Fridges: Oregon Equips Medicaid Patients for Climate Change”

KFF Health News contributor Andy Miller discussed Medicaid unwinding on WUGA’s “The Georgia Health Report” on April 26.

• Click here to hear Miller on “The Georgia Health Report”
• Read Phil Galewitz’ “Millions Were Booted From Medicaid. The Insurers That Run It Gained Medicaid Revenue Anyway.”

KFF Health News Nevada correspondent Jazmin Orozco Rodriguez discussed mortality rates in rural America on The Daily Yonder’s “The Yonder Report” on April 24.

• Click here to hear Rodriguez on “The Yonder Report”
• Read Rodriguez’ “City-Country Mortality Gap Widens Amid Persistent Holes in Rural Health Care Access”

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The Host Julie Rovner KFF Health News @jrovner Read Julie's stories. Julie Rovner is chief Washington correspondent and host of KFF Health News’ weekly health policy news podcast, “What the Health?” A noted expert on health policy issues, Julie is the author of the critically praised reference book “Health Care Politics and Policy A to Z,” now in its third edition.

The national abortion landscape was shaken again this week as Florida’s six-week abortion ban took effect. That leaves North Carolina and Virginia as the lone Southern states where abortion remains widely available. Clinics in those states already were overflowing with patients from across the region.

Meanwhile, in a wide-ranging interview with Time magazine, former President Donald Trump took credit for appointing the Supreme Court justices who overturned Roe v. Wade, but he steadfastly refused to say what he might do on the abortion issue if he is returned to office.

This week’s panelists are Julie Rovner of KFF Health News, Sarah Karlin-Smith of the Pink Sheet, Alice Miranda Ollstein of Politico, and Rachana Pradhan of KFF Health News.

Panelists Sarah Karlin-Smith Pink Sheet @SarahKarlin Read Sarah's stories. Alice Miranda Ollstein Politico @AliceOllstein Read Alice's stories. Rachana Pradhan KFF Health News @rachanadpradhan Read Rachana's stories.

Among the takeaways from this week’s episode:

• Florida’s new, six-week abortion ban is a big deal for the entire South, as the state had been an abortion haven for patients as other states cut access to the procedure. Some clinics in North Carolina and southern Virginia are considering expansions to their waiting and recovery rooms to accommodate patients who now must travel there for care. This also means, though, that those traveling patients could make waits even longer for local patients, including many who rely on the clinics for non-abortion services.
• Passage of a bill to repeal Arizona’s near-total abortion ban nonetheless leaves the state’s patients and providers with plenty of uncertainty — including whether the ban will temporarily take effect anyway. Plus, voters in Arizona, as well as those in Florida, will have an opportunity in November to weigh in on whether the procedure should be available in their state.
• The FDA’s decision that laboratory-developed tests must be subject to the same regulatory scrutiny as medical devices comes as the tests have become more prevalent — and as concerns have grown amid high-profile examples of problems occurring because they evaded federal review. (See: Theranos.) There’s a reasonable chance the FDA will be sued over whether it has the authority to make these changes without congressional action.
• Also, the Biden administration has quietly decided to shelve a potential ban on menthol cigarettes. The issue raised tensions over its links between health and criminal justice, and it ultimately appears to have run into electoral-year headwinds that prompted the administration to put it aside rather than risk alienating Black voters.
• In drug news, the Federal Trade Commission is challenging what it sees as “junk” patents that make it tougher for generics to come to market, and another court ruling delivers bad news for the pharmaceutical industry’s fight against Medicare drug negotiations.

Plus, for “extra credit” the panelists suggest health policy stories they read this week that they think you should read, too:

Julie Rovner: ProPublica’s “A Doctor at Cigna Said Her Bosses Pressured Her To Review Patients’ Cases Too Quickly. Cigna Threatened To Fire Her,” by Patrick Rucker, The Capitol Forum, and David Armstrong, ProPublica.

Alice Miranda Ollstein: The Associated Press’ “Dozens of Deaths Reveal Risks of Injecting Sedatives Into People Restrained by Police,” by Ryan J. Foley, Carla K. Johnson, and Shelby Lum.

Sarah Karlin-Smith: The Atlantic’s “America’s Infectious-Disease Barometer Is Off,” by Katherine J. Wu.

Rachana Pradhan: The Wall Street Journal’s “Millions of American Kids Are Caregivers Now: ‘The Hardest Part Is That I’m Only 17,” by Clare Ansberry.

Also mentioned on this week’s podcast:

• Time’s “How Far Trump Would Go,” by Eric Cortellessa.
• NPR’s “Why Is a 6-Week Abortion Ban Nearly a Total Ban? It’s About How We Date a Pregnancy,” by Selena Simmons-Duffin.
• NPR’s “’Sicko’s’ Peeno Sees Few Gains in Health Insurance,” by Julie Rovner.
• CNN’s “Walmart Will Close All of Its Health Care Clinics,” by Nathaniel Meyersohn.

Credits Francis Ying Audio producer Emmarie Huetteman Editor

To hear all our podcasts, click here.

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Oregon has started providing air conditioners, air purifiers and power banks to help some of its Medicaid recipients cope with soaring heat, smoky skies and other dangers of climate change.

It’s a first-in-the-nation experiment that expands a Biden administration strategy to take Medicaid beyond traditional medical care and into the realm of social services.

“Climate change is a health-care issue,” Health and Human Services Secretary Xavier Becerra told me, adding that states should be encouraged to experiment with ways to improve people’s health.

But Medicaid’s expansion into social services could lead to abuse, especially when government pays for equipment or services that everyone wants, said Sherry Glied, dean of New York University’s graduate school of public service.

“The challenge here is that air conditioners are something that both healthy people and people who have your really serious condition benefit from,” Glied said. “Most people have air conditioners for reasons that have nothing to do with their health.”

Many states are already spending billions of Medicaid dollars on services like helping homeless people get housing and preparing healthy meals for people with diabetes. But Oregon is the first to spend Medicaid money explicitly on climate-related equipment to help its most vulnerable residents — an estimated 200,000 enrollees.

Recipients must meet federal guidelines that categorize them as “facing certain life transitions,” a stringent set of requirements that disqualify most enrollees. For example, a person with an underlying medical condition that could worsen during a heat wave, and who is also at risk for homelessness or has been released from prison in the past year, could receive an air conditioner. But someone with stable housing might not qualify.

“Each person is going to be looked at as what they need for their particular circumstance,” said Dave Baden, deputy director for programs and policy at the Oregon Health Authority, which administers the state’s Medicaid program, with about 1.4 million total enrollees. The program, part of a five-year $1.1 billion effort that includes housing and nutrition services, also pays for mini fridges to keep medications cold, portable power supplies to run ventilators and other medical devices during outages, space heaters for winter and air filters to improve air quality during wildfire season.

Scientists and public health officials say climate change poses a growing health risk. The federal government’s latest climate assessment projects that more frequent and intense floods, droughts, wildfires, extreme temperatures and storms will cause more deaths, cardiovascular disease from poor air quality and other problems. 

The mounting health effects disproportionately hit low-income Americans and people of color, who are often covered by Medicaid, the state-federal health insurance program for low-income people.

Most of the 102 Oregonians who died during a deadly heat dome that settled over the Pacific Northwest in 2021 “were elderly, isolated and living with low incomes,” a report by the Oregon Health Authority found.

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The Department of Veterans Affairs has long given Vietnam veterans disability compensation for illness connected to Agent Orange, widely used to defoliate Southeast Asian battlefields during the U.S. war.

Less well known: The powerful herbicide combination was also routinely used to kill weeds at domestic military bases. Those exposed to the chemicals at the bases are still waiting for the same benefits and, in some cases, are hitting a familiar obstacle — government opacity.

In February, VA proposed a rule that for the first time would allow compensation for Agent Orange exposure at 17 U.S. bases in a dozen states where the herbicide was tested, used or stored.

But the list excludes about four dozen bases where Pat Elder, an activist and director of the environmental advocacy group Military Poisons, says he’s documented the use or storage of Agent Orange. Among them is Fort Ord, a former Army base in Monterey County, Calif. Documents gathered by Elder and others, including a report by an Army agronomist, a journal article and records related to hazardous material cleanups, establish the use of Agent Orange at the facility.

“In training areas, such as Fort Ord, where poison oak has been extremely troublesome to military personnel, a well-organized chemical war has been waged against this woody plant pest,” reads a 1956 article in the journal the Military Engineer.

“Until Fort Ord is recognized by VA as a presumptive site, it’s probably going to be a long, difficult struggle to get some kind of compensation,” said Mike Duris, a veteran who trained at the base and was later diagnosed with prostate cancer.

VA considers prostate cancer a “presumptive condition” for Agent Orange disability compensation, meaning the agency presumes the illness is linked to exposure to the chemical. It acknowledges that those who served in specific locations were likely exposed and their illnesses are tied to military service. The designation expedites affected veterans’ disability claims.

Agent Orange is a 50-50 mixture of two chemicals known as 2,4-D and 2,4,5-T. Herbicides with the same chemical structure, although slightly modified, were widely available in the 1950s and ‘60s, sold commercially and used on practically every base in the United States, said Gerson Smoger, a lawyer who argued before the Supreme Court for Vietnam veterans to have the right to sue Agent Orange manufacturers.

2,4,5-T contains the dioxin TCDD, a known carcinogen linked to a number of cancers, chronic conditions and birth defects. The Environmental Protection Agency banned the use of 2,4,5-T in the United States in 1979.

VA says it based its proposed rule on information provided by the Defense Department, and that the Pentagon’s review “found no documentation of herbicide use, testing or storage at Fort Ord.”

Patricia Kime contributed reporting.

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MEMPHIS, Tenn. — For many years, Rose Sims had no idea what was going on inside a nondescript brick building on Florida Street a couple of miles from her modest one-story home on the southwestern side of town.

Like other residents, she got an unwelcome surprise in October 2022 at a public forum held by the Environmental Protection Agency at the historic Monumental Baptist Church, known for its role in the civil rights movement. The EPA notified the predominantly Black community that Sterilization Services of Tennessee —which began operations in the brick building in the 1970s — had been emitting unacceptably high levels of ethylene oxide, a toxic gas commonly used to disinfect medical devices.

Airborne emissions of the colorless gas can increase the risk of certain medical conditions, including breast cancer. Sims, who is 59 and Black, said she developed breast cancer in 2019, despite having no family history of it, and she suspects ethylene oxide was a contributing factor.

“I used to be outside a lot. I was in good health. All of a sudden, I got breast cancer,” she said.

Local advocates say the emissions are part of a pattern of environmental racism. The term is often applied when areas populated primarily by racial and ethnic minorities and members of low-socioeconomic backgrounds, like southwest Memphis, are burdened with a disproportionate amount of health hazards.

The drivers of environmental racism include the promise of tax breaks for industry to locate a facility in a heavily minority community, said Malini Ranganathan, an urban geographer at American University in Washington, D.C. The cheaper cost of land also is a factor, as is the concept of NIMBY — or “not in my backyard” — in which power brokers steer possible polluters to poorer areas of cities.

A manager at Sterilization Services’ corporate office in Richmond, Virginia, declined to answer questions from KFF Health News. An attorney with Leitner, Williams, Dooley & Napolitan, a law firm that represents the company, also declined to comment. Sterilization Services, in a legal filing asking for an ethylene oxide-related lawsuit to be dismissed, said the use of the gas, which sterilizes about half the medical devices in the U.S., is highly regulated to ensure public safety.

Besides southwest Memphis, there are nearly two dozen locales, mostly small cities — from Athens, Texas, to Groveland, Florida, and Ardmore, Oklahoma — where the EPA said in 2022 that plants sterilizing medical devices emit the gas at unusually high levels, potentially increasing a person’s risk of developing cancer.

The pollution issue is so bad in southwest Memphis that even though Sterilization Services planned to close shop by April 30, local community leaders have been hesitant to celebrate. In a letter last year to a local Congress member, the company said it has always complied with federal, state, and local regulations. The reason for its closure, it said, was a problem with renewing the building lease.

But many residents see it as just one small win in a bigger battle over environmental safety in the neighborhood.

“It’s still a cesspool of pollution,’’ said Yolonda Spinks, of the environmental advocacy organization Memphis Community Against Pollution, about a host of hazards the community faces.

The air in this part of the city has long been considered dangerous. An oil refinery spews a steady plume of white smoke. A coal plant has leaked ash into the ground and the groundwater. The coal plant was replaced by a natural gas power plant, and now the Tennessee Valley Authority, which provides electricity for local power companies, plans to build a new gas plant there. A continual stream of heavy trucks chug along nearby highways and roads. Other transportation sources of air pollution include the Memphis International Airport and barge traffic on the nearby Mississippi River.

Lead contamination is also a concern, not just in drinking water but in the soil from now-closed lead smelters, said Chunrong Jia, a professor of environmental health at the University of Memphis. Almost all the heavy industry in Shelby County — and the associated pollutants — are located in southwest Memphis, Jia added.

Sources of pollution are often “clustered in particular communities,” said Darya Minovi, a senior analyst with the Union of Concerned Scientists, a nonprofit that advocates for environmental justice. When it comes to sterilizing facilities that emit ethylene oxide, areas inhabited largely by Black, Hispanic, low-income, and non-English-speaking people are disproportionately exposed, the group has found.

Four sites that the EPA labeled high-risk are in low-income areas of Puerto Rico. Seven sterilizer plants operate in that U.S. territory.

The EPA, responding to public concerns and to deepened scientific understanding of the hazards of ethylene oxide, recently released rules that the agency said would greatly reduce emissions of the toxic gas from sterilizing facilities.

KeShaun Pearson, who was born and raised in south Memphis and has been active in fighting environmental threats, said he is frustrated that companies with dangerous emissions are allowed to create “toxic soup” in minority communities.

In the area where the sterilization plant is located, 87% of the residents are people of color, and, according to the Southern Environmental Law Center, life expectancy there is about 10 years lower than the average for the county and state. The population within 5 miles of the sterilizer plant is mostly low-income, according to the Union of Concerned Scientists.

Pearson was part of Memphis Community Against the Pipeline, a group formed in 2020 to stop a crude oil pipeline that would have run through Boxtown, a neighborhood established by emancipated slaves and freedmen after the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation of 1863.

That campaign, which received public support from former Vice President Al Gore and actress-activist Jane Fonda, succeeded. After the ethylene oxide danger surfaced in 2022, the group changed the last word of its name from “pipeline” to “pollution.”

Besides breast and lymphoid cancers, animal studies have linked inhaling the gas to tumors of the brain, lungs, connective tissue, uterus, and mammary glands.

Last year, with the help of the Southern Environmental Law Center, the south Memphis community group urged the Shelby County Health Department to declare the ethylene oxide situation a public health emergency and shut down the sterilizing plant. But the health department said the company had complied with its existing air permit and with the EPA’s rules and regulations.

A health department spokesperson, Joan Carr, said Shelby County enforces EPA regulations to ensure that companies comply with the federal Clean Air Act and that the agency has five air monitoring stations around the county to detect levels of other pollutants.

When the county and the Tennessee Department of Health did a cancer cluster study in 2023, the agencies found no evidence of the clustering of high rates of leukemia, non-Hodgkin lymphoma, or breast or stomach cancer near the facility. There were “hot and cold spots” of breast cancer found, but the study said it could not conclude that the clusters were linked to the facility.

Scientists have criticized the study’s methodology, saying it did not follow the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s recommendations for designing a cancer cluster investigation.

Meanwhile, several people have sued the sterilizing company, claiming their health has been affected by the ethylene oxide emissions. In a lawsuit seeking class-action status, Reginaé Kendrick, 21, said she was diagnosed with a brain tumor at age 6. Chemotherapy and radiation have stunted her growth, destroyed her hair follicles, and prevented her from going through puberty, said her mother, Robbie Kendrick.

In response to proposed stricter EPA regulations, meanwhile, the Tennessee attorney general helped lead 19 other state AGs in urging the agency to “forgo or defer regulating the use of EtO by commercial sterilizers.”

Sims said she’s glad her neighborhood will have one less thing to worry about once Sterilization Services departs. But her feelings about the closure remain tempered.

“Hope they don’t go to another residential area,” she said.

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Monica Kelly was thrilled to learn she was expecting her second child.

The Tennessee mother was around 13 weeks pregnant when, according to a lawsuit filed against the state of Tennessee, doctors gave her the devastating news that her baby had Patau syndrome.

The genetic disorder causes serious developmental defects and often results in miscarriage, stillbirth, or death within one year of birth. Continuing her pregnancy, doctors told her, could put her at risk of infection and complications that include high blood pressure, organ failure, and death.

But they said they could not perform an abortion due to a Tennessee law banning most abortions that went into effect two months after the repeal of Roe v. Wade in June 2022, court records show.

So Kelly traveled to a northwestern Florida hospital to get an abortion while about 15 weeks pregnant. She is one of seven women and two doctors suing Tennessee because they say the state’s near-total abortion ban imperils the lives of pregnant women.

More than 25,000 women like Kelly traveled to Florida for an abortion over the past five years, state data shows. Most came from states such as Alabama, Louisiana, and Mississippi with little or no access to abortion, data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention shows. Hundreds traveled from as far as Texas.

But a recent Florida Supreme Court ruling paved the way for the Sunshine State to enforce a six-week ban beginning in May, effectively leaving women in much of the South with little or no access to abortion clinics. The ban could be short-lived if 60% of Florida voters in November approve a constitutional amendment adding the right to an abortion.

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In the meantime, nonprofit groups are warning they may not be able to meet the increased demand for help from women from Florida and other Southeastern states to travel for an abortion. They fear women who lack the resources will be forced to carry unwanted pregnancies to term because they cannot afford to travel to states where abortions are more available.

That could include women whose pregnancies, like Kelly’s, put them at risk.

“The six-week ban is really a problem not just for Florida but the entire Southeast,” said McKenna Kelley, a board member of the Tampa Bay Abortion Fund. “Florida was the last man standing in the Southeast for abortion access.”

Travel Bans and Stricter Limits

Supporters of the Florida restrictions aren’t backing down. Some want even stricter limits. Republican state Rep. Mike Beltran voted for both the 15-week and six-week bans. He said the vast majority of abortions are elective and that those related to medical complications make up a tiny fraction.

State data shows that 95% of abortions last year were either elective or performed due to social or economic reasons. More than 5% were related to issues with either the health of the mother or the fetus.

Beltran said he would support a ban on travel for abortions but knows it would be challenged in the courts. He would support measures that prevent employers from paying for workers to travel for abortions and such costs being tax-deductible, he said.

“I don’t think we should make it easier for people to travel for abortion,” he said. “We should put things in to prevent circumvention of the law.”

Both abortion bans were also supported by GOP state lawmaker Joel Rudman. As a physician, Rudman said, he has delivered more than 100 babies and sees nothing in the current law that sacrifices patient safety.

“It is a good commonsense law that provides reasonable exceptions yet respects the sanctity of life for both mother and child,” he said in a text message.

Last year, the first full year that many Southern states had bans in place, more than 7,700 women traveled to Florida for an abortion, an increase of roughly 59% compared with three years ago.

The Tampa Bay Abortion Fund, which is focused on helping local women, found itself assisting an influx of women from Arkansas, Georgia, Mississippi, Louisiana, and other states, Kelley said.

In 2023, it paid out more than $650,000 for appointment costs and over $67,000 in other expenses such as airplane tickets and lodging. Most of those who seek assistance are from low-income families including minorities or disabled people, Kelley said.

“We ask each person, ‘What can you contribute?’” she said. “Some say zero and that’s fine.” 

Florida’s new law will mean her group will have to pivot again. The focus will now be on helping people seeking abortions travel to other states.

But the destinations are farther and more expensive. Most women, she predicted, will head to New York, Illinois, or Washington, D.C. Clinic appointments in those states are often more expensive. The extra travel distance will mean help is needed with hotels and airfare.

North Carolina, which allows abortions through about 12 weeks of pregnancy, may be a slightly cheaper option for some women whose pregnancies are not as far along, she said.

Keeping up with that need is a concern, she said. Donations to the group soared to $755,000 in 2022, which Kelley described as “rage donations” made after the U.S. Supreme Court ended half a century of guaranteeing the federal right to an abortion.

The anger didn’t last. Donations in 2023 declined to $272,000, she said.

“We’re going to have huge problems on our hands in a few weeks,” she said. “A lot of people who need an abortion are not going to be able to access one. That’s really scary and sad.”

Gray Areas Lead to Confusion

The Chicago Abortion Fund is expecting that many women from Southeastern states will head its way.

Illinois offers abortions up until fetal viability — around 24 to 26 weeks. The state five years ago repealed its law requiring parents to be notified when their children seek an abortion.

About 3 in 10 abortions performed in Illinois two years ago — almost 17,000 — involved out-of-state residents, up from fewer than a quarter the previous year, according to state records.

The Chicago nonprofit has prided itself on not turning away requests for help over the past five years, said Qudsiyyah Shariyf, a deputy director. It is adding staffers, including Spanish-language speakers, to cope with an anticipated uptick in calls for help from Southern states. She hopes Florida voters will make the crisis short-lived.  

“We’re estimating we’ll need an additional $100,000 a month to meet that influx of folks from Florida and the South,” she said. “We know it’s going to be a really hard eight months until something potentially changes.”

Losing access to abortion, especially among vulnerable groups like pregnant teenagers and women with pregnancy complications, could also increase cases of mental illness such as depression, anxiety, and even post-traumatic stress disorder, said Silvia Kaminsky, a licensed marriage and family therapist in Miami.

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Kaminsky, who serves as board president of the American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy, said the group has received calls from therapists seeking legal guidance about whether they can help a client who wants to travel for an abortion.

That’s especially true in states such as Alabama, Georgia, and Missouri that have passed laws granting “personhood” status to fetuses. Therapists in many states, including Florida, are required to report a client who intends to harm another individual.

“It’s creating all these gray areas that we didn’t have to deal with before,” Kaminsky said.

Deborah Dorbert of Lakeland, Florida, said that Florida's 15-week abortion limit put her health at risk and that she was forced to carry to term a baby with no chance of survival.

Her unborn child was diagnosed with Potter syndrome in November 2022. An ultrasound taken at 23 weeks of pregnancy showed that the fetus had not developed enough amniotic fluid and that its kidneys were undeveloped.

Doctors told her that her child would not survive outside the womb and that there was a high risk of a stillbirth and, for her, preeclampsia, a pregnancy complication that can result in high blood pressure, organ failure, and death.

One option doctors suggested was a pre-term inducement, essentially an abortion, Dorbert said.

Dorbert and her husband were heartbroken. They decided an abortion was their safest option.

At Lakeland Regional Health, she said, she was told her surgery would have to be approved by the hospital administration and its lawyers since Florida had that year enacted its 15-week abortion restriction.

Florida’s abortion law includes an exemption if two physicians certify in writing that a fetus has a fatal fetal abnormality and has not reached viability. But a month elapsed before she got an answer in her case. Her doctor told her the hospital did not feel they could legally perform the procedure and that she would have to carry the baby to term, Dorbert said.

Lakeland Regional Health did not respond to repeated calls and emails seeking comment.

Dorbert’s gynecologist had mentioned to her that some women traveled for an abortion. But Dorbert said she could not afford the trip and was concerned she might break the law by going out of state.

At 37 weeks, doctors agreed to induce Dorbert. She checked into Lakeland Regional Hospital in March 2023 and, after a long and painful labor, gave birth to a boy named Milo.

“When he was born, he was blue; he didn’t open his eyes; he didn’t cry,” she said. “The only sound you heard was him gasping for air every so often.”

She and her husband took turns holding Milo. They read him a book about a mother polar bear who tells her cub she will always love them. They sang Bob Marley and The Wailers’ “Three Little Birds” to Milo with its chorus that “every little thing is gonna be alright.”

Milo died in his mother’s arms 93 minutes after being born.

One year later, Dorbert is still dealing with the anguish. The grief is still “heavy” some days, she said.

She and her husband have discussed trying for another child, but Florida’s abortion laws have made her wary of another pregnancy with complications.

“It makes you angry and frustrated. I could not get the health care I needed and that my doctors advised for me,” she said. "I know I can’t go through what I went through again.”

This article was produced through a partnership between KFF Health News and the Tampa Bay Times.

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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As a young GI at Fort Ord in Monterey County, California, Dean Osborn spent much of his time in the oceanside woodlands, training on soil and guzzling water from streams and aquifers now known to be contaminated with cancer-causing pollutants.

“They were marching the snot out of us,” he said, recalling his year and a half stationed on the base, from 1979 to 1980. He also remembers, not so fondly, the poison oak pervasive across the 28,000-acre installation that closed in 1994. He went on sick call at least three times because of the overwhelmingly itchy rash.

Mounting evidence shows that as far back as the 1950s, in an effort to kill the ubiquitous poison oak and other weeds at the Army base, the military experimented with and sprayed the powerful herbicide combination known colloquially as Agent Orange.

While the U.S. military used the herbicide to defoliate the dense jungles of Vietnam and adjoining countries, it was contaminating the land and waters of coastal California with the same chemicals, according to documents.

The Defense Department has publicly acknowledged that during the Vietnam War era it stored Agent Orange at the Naval Construction Battalion Center in Gulfport, Mississippi, and the former Kelly Air Force Base in Texas, and tested it at Florida’s Eglin Air Force Base.

According to the Government Accountability Office, however, the Pentagon’s list of sites where herbicides were tested went more than a decade without being updated and lacked specificity. GAO analysts described the list in 2018 as “inaccurate and incomplete.”

Fort Ord was not included. It is among about four dozen bases that the government has excluded but where Pat Elder, an environmental activist, said he has documented the use or storage of Agent Orange.

According to a 1956 article in the journal The Military Engineer, the use of Agent Orange herbicides at Fort Ord led to a “drastic reduction in trainee dermatitis casualties.”

“In training areas, such as Fort Ord, where poison oak has been extremely troublesome to military personnel, a well-organized chemical war has been waged against this woody plant pest,” the article noted.

Other documents, including a report by an Army agronomist as well as documents related to hazardous material cleanups, point to the use of Agent Orange at the sprawling base that 1.5 million service members cycled through from 1917 to 1994.

‘The Most Toxic Chemical’

Agent Orange is a 50-50 mixture of two ingredients, known as 2,4-D and 2,4,5-T. Herbicides with the same chemical structure slightly modified were available off the shelf, sold commercially in massive amounts, and used at practically every base in the U.S., said Gerson Smoger, a lawyer who argued before the Supreme Court for Vietnam veterans to have the right to sue Agent Orange manufacturers. The combo was also used by farmers, forest workers, and other civilians across the country.

The chemical 2,4,5-T contains the dioxin 2,3,7,8-tetrachlorodibenzo-p-dioxin or TCDD, a known carcinogen linked to several cancers, chronic conditions, and birth defects. A recent Brown University study tied Agent Orange exposure to brain tissue damage similar to that caused by Alzheimer’s. Acknowledging its harm to human health, the Environmental Protection Agency banned the use of 2,4,5-T in the U.S. in 1979. Still, the other weed killer, 2,4-D is sold off-the-shelf today.

“The bottom line is TCDD is the most toxic chemical that man has ever made,” Smoger said.

For years, the Department of Veteran Affairs has provided vets who served in Vietnam disability compensation for diseases considered to be connected to exposure to Agent Orange for military use from 1962 to 1975.

Decades after Osborn’s military service, the 68-year-old veteran, who never served in Vietnam, has battled one health crisis after another: a spot on his left lung and kidney, hypothyroidism, and prostate cancer, an illness that has been tied to Agent Orange exposure.

He says many of his old buddies from Fort Ord are sick as well.

“Now we have cancers that we didn’t deserve,” Osborn said.

The VA considers prostate cancer a “presumptive condition” for Agent Orange disability compensation, acknowledging that those who served in specific locations were likely exposed and that their illnesses are tied to their military service. The designation expedites affected veterans’ claims.

But when Osborn requested his benefits, he was denied. The letter said the cancer was “more likely due to your age,” not military service.

“This didn’t happen because of my age. This is happening because we were stationed in the places that were being sprayed and contaminated,” he said.

Studies show that diseases caused by environmental factors can take years to emerge. And to make things more perplexing for veterans stationed at Fort Ord, contamination from other harmful chemicals, like the industrial cleaner trichloroethylene, have been well documented on the former base, landing it on the EPA’s Superfund site list in 1990.

“We typically expect to see the effect years down the line,” said Lawrence Liu, a doctor at City of Hope Comprehensive Cancer Center who has studied Agent Orange. “Carcinogens have additive effects.”

In February, the VA proposed a rule that for the first time would allow compensation to veterans for Agent Orange exposure at 17 U.S. bases in a dozen states where the herbicide was tested, used, or stored.

Fort Ord is not on that list either, because the VA’s list is based on the Defense Department’s 2019 update.

“It’s a very tricky question,” Smoger said, emphasizing how widely the herbicides were used both at military bases and by civilians for similar purposes. “On one hand, we were service. We were exposed. On the other hand, why are you different from the people across the road that are privately using it?”

The VA says that it based its proposed rule on information provided by the Defense Department.

“DoD’s review found no documentation of herbicide use, testing or storage at Fort Ord. Therefore, VA does not have sufficient evidence to extend a presumption of exposure to herbicides based on service at Fort Ord at this time,” VA press secretary Terrence Hayes said in an email.

The Documentation

Yet environmental activist Elder, with help from toxic and remediation specialist Denise Trabbic-Pointer and former VA physician Kyle Horton, compiled seven documents showing otherwise. They include a journal article, the agronomist report, and cleanup-related documents as recent as 1995 — all pointing to widespread herbicide use and experimentation as well as lasting contamination at the base.

Though the documents do not call the herbicide by its colorful nickname, they routinely cite the combination of 2,4-D and 2,4,5-T. A “hazardous waste minimization assessment” dated 1991 reported 80,000 pounds of herbicides used annually at Fort Ord. It separately lists 2,4,5-T as a product for which “substitutions are necessary to minimize the environmental impacts.”

The poison oak “control program” started in 1951, according to a report by Army agronomist Floyd Otter, four years before the U.S. deepened its involvement in Vietnam. Otter detailed the use of these chemicals alone and in combination with diesel oil or other compounds, at rates generally between “one to two gallons of liquid herbicide” per acre.

“In conclusion, we are fairly well satisfied with the methods,” Otter wrote, noting he was interested in “any way in which costs can be lowered or quicker kill obtained.”

An article published in California Agriculture more than a decade later includes before and after photos showing the effectiveness of chemical brush control used in a live-oak woodland at Fort Ord, again citing both chemicals in Agent Orange. The Defense Department did not respond to questions sent April 10 about the contamination or say when the Army stopped using 2,4,5-T at Fort Ord.

“What’s most compelling about Fort Ord is it was actually used for the same purpose it was used for in Vietnam — to kill plants — not just storing it,” said Julie Akey, a former Army linguist who worked at the base in the 1990s and later developed the rare blood cancer multiple myeloma.

Akey, who also worked with Elder, runs a Facebook group and keeps a list of people stationed on the base who later were diagnosed with cancer and other illnesses. So far, she has tallied more than 1,400 former Fort Ord residents who became sick.

Elder’s findings have galvanized the group to speak up during a public comment period for the VA’s proposed rule. Of 546 comments, 67 are from veterans and others urging the inclusion of Fort Ord. Hundreds of others have written in regarding the use of Agent Orange and other chemicals at their bases.

While the herbicide itself sticks around for only a short time, the contaminant TCDD can linger in sediment for decades, said Kenneth Olson, a professor emeritus of soil science at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

A 1995 report from the Army’s Sacramento Corps of Engineers, which documented chemicals detected in the soil at Fort Ord, found levels of TCDD at 3.5 parts per trillion, more than double the remediation goal at the time of 1.2 ppt. Olson calls the evidence convincing.

“It clearly supports the fact that 2,4,5-T with unknown amounts of dioxin TCDD was applied on the Fort Ord grounds and border fences,” Olson said. “Some military and civilian personnel would have been exposed.”

The Department of Defense has described the Agent Orange used in Vietnam as a “tactical herbicide,” more concentrated than what was commercially available in the U.S. But Olson said his research suggests that even if the grounds maintenance crew used commercial versions of 2,4,5-T, which was available in the federal supply catalog, the soldiers would have been exposed to the dioxin TCDD.

The half dozen veterans who spoke with KFF Health News said they want the military to take responsibility.

The Pentagon did not respond to questions regarding the upkeep of the list or the process for adding locations.

In the meantime, the Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry is studying potential chemical exposure among people who worked and lived on Fort Ord between 1985 and 1994. However, the agency is evaluating drinking water for contaminants such as trichloroethylene and not contamination or pollution from other chemicals such as Agent Orange or those found in firefighting foams.

Other veterans are frustrated by the VA’s long process to recognize their illnesses and believe they were sickened by exposure at Fort Ord.

“Until Fort Ord is recognized by the VA as a presumptive site, it’s probably going to be a long, difficult struggle to get some kind of compensation,” said Mike Duris, a 72-year-old veteran diagnosed with prostate cancer four years ago who ultimately underwent surgery.

Like so many others, he wonders about the connection to his training at Fort Ord in the early ’70s — drinking the contaminated water and marching, crawling, and digging holes in the dirt.

“Often, where there is smoke, there’s fire,” Duris said.

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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Hace más de 60 años, legisladores en Colorado adoptaron la idea de que la intervención temprana podría prevenir el abuso infantil y salvar vidas. El requisito del estado de que ciertos profesionales informaran a las autoridades cuando sospechaban que un niño había sido maltratado o descuidado fue una de las primeras leyes de informes obligatorios en la nación.

Desde entonces, estas leyes se han expandido a nivel nacional para abarcar más tipos de maltrato, incluido el abandono, que ahora representa la mayoría de los informes, y han aumentado el número de profesiones obligadas a informar. En algunos estados, se requiere que todos los adultos informen lo que sospechan que pueda ser un caso de abuso o negligencia.

Pero ahora hay esfuerzos en Colorado y otros estados para revertir estas leyes, argumentando que el resultado ha sido demasiados informes infundados, que perjudican desproporcionadamente a las familias que son pobres, negras, indígenas o tienen miembros con discapacidades.

“Hay una larga y deprimente historia basada en el enfoque de que nuestra respuesta principal a una familia en dificultades es reportar”, dijo Mical Raz, médica e historiadora de la Universidad de Rochester en Nueva York. “Ahora hay una gran cantidad de evidencia que demuestra que más informes no están asociados con mejores resultados para los niños”.

Stephanie Villafuerte, defensora del pueblo para la protección infantil de Colorado, supervisa un grupo de trabajo para reexaminar las leyes de informes obligatorios del estado. Dijo que el grupo busca equilibrar la necesidad de informar casos legítimos de abuso y negligencia con el deseo de eliminar informes inapropiados.

“Esto está diseñado para ayudar a las personas que se ven afectadas de manera desproporcionada”, dijo Villafuerte. “Espero que la combinación de estos esfuerzos pueda marcar la diferencia”.

A algunos críticos les preocupa que los cambios a la ley pueda dar lugar a que se pasen por alto casos de abuso. Los trabajadores médicos y de cuidado infantil que forman parte del grupo de trabajo han expresado preocupación sobre la responsabilidad legal.

Aunque es raro que las personas sean acusadas penalmente por no informar, también pueden enfrentar responsabilidad civil o repercusiones profesionales, incluidas amenazas a sus licencias.

El ser reportado a los servicios de protección infantil se está volviendo cada vez más común. Más de 1 de cada 3 niños en el país será objeto de una investigación de abuso y negligencia infantil para cuando cumplan 18 años, según una estimación que se cita con frecuencia, un estudio de 2017 financiado por la Oficina de Niños del Departamento de Salud y Servicios Humanos.

A las familias negras y nativas americanas, las familias pobres y los padres o niños con discapacidades se las mira con lupa. La investigación ha encontrado que, entre estos grupos, los padres tienen más probabilidades de perder los derechos parentales y los niños tienen más probabilidades de terminar en hogares temporales.

En una abrumadora mayoría de investigaciones, no se confirma ningún abuso o negligencia. Sin embargo, los que estudian cómo afectan estas investigaciones a las familias las describen como aterradoras y aislantes.

En Colorado, el número de informes de abuso y negligencia infantil ha aumentado un 42% en la última década, y alcanzó un récord de 117,762 el año pasado, según datos estatales. Aproximadamente, otras 100,000 llamadas a la línea directa no se contaron como informes porque eran solicitudes de información o se referían a asuntos como la manutención de los hijos o la protección de adultos, dijeron oficiales del Departamento de Servicios Humanos de Colorado.

El aumento de los informes se puede rastrear hasta una política que alienta a una amplia gama de profesionales —incluidos el personal escolar y médico, terapeutas, entrenadores, miembros del clero, bomberos, veterinarios, dentistas y trabajadores sociales— a llamar a una línea directa cada vez que tengan una preocupación.   

Estas llamadas no reflejan un aumento en el maltrato. Más de dos tercios de los informes que reciben las agencias en Colorado se desestiman porque no cumplen con el umbral para la investigación. De los niños cuyos casos se evalúan, se comprueba que el 21% ha sufrido abuso o negligencia. El número real de casos confirmados no ha aumentado en la última década.

Si bien los estudios no demuestran que las leyes que obligan a informar mantengan seguros a los niños, informó el grupo de trabajo de Colorado en enero, hay evidencia de daño. “El informe obligatorio impacta desproporcionadamente a las familias de color”, iniciando el contacto entre los servicios de protección infantil y familias que no presentan preocupaciones por abuso o negligencia, dijo el grupo de trabajo.

Este grupo también está analizando si una mejor selección podría mitigar “el impacto desproporcionado del informe obligatorio en comunidades con recursos limitados, comunidades de color y personas con discapacidades”.

También señaló que la única forma de informar preocupaciones sobre un niño es con un informe formal a una línea directa. Sin embargo, muchas de esas llamadas no son para informar sobre abuso en absoluto, sino intentos de conectar a niños y familias con recursos como alimentos o asistencia para la vivienda.

Los que llaman a la línea directa pueden querer ayudar, pero las familias que son objeto de informes erróneos de abuso y negligencia rara vez lo ven de esa manera.

Esto incluye a Meighen Lovelace, que vive en una zona rural de Colorado y que pidió a KFF Health News que no revelara su ciudad natal por temor a atraer la atención no deseada de funcionarios locales. Para la hija de Lovelace, que es neurodivergente y tiene discapacidades físicas, los informes comenzaron en 2015, cuando empezó el preescolar a los 4 años.

Los maestros y proveedores médicos que hacían los informes a menudo sugerían que la agencia de servicios humanos del condado podría ayudar a la familia de Lovelace. Pero las investigaciones que siguieron fueron invasivas y traumáticas.

“Nuestro mayor temor latente es, ‘¿van a llevarse a nuestros hijos?'”, dijo Lovelace, quien es defensora de la Colorado Cross-Disability Coalition, una organización que aboga por los derechos civiles de las personas con discapacidades.

“Tenemos miedo de pedir ayuda. Nos está impidiendo ingresar a los servicios debido al miedo al bienestar infantil”, expresó.

Funcionarios de servicios humanos, estatales y del condado, dijeron que no podían comentar sobre casos específicos.

El grupo de trabajo de Colorado planea sugerir aclarar las definiciones de abuso y negligencia bajo la ley de informe obligatorio del estado. Los que tienen que informar no deben “hacer un informe únicamente debido a la raza, clase o género de una familia/niño”, ni debido a una vivienda, muebles, ingresos o ropa inadecuados. Además, no debe haber un informe basado únicamente en el “estado de discapacidad del menor, padre o tutor”, según la recomendación preliminar del grupo.

También planean recomendar capacitación adicional para los que tienen la obligación de informar, ayuda para profesionales que están decidiendo si hacer una llamada o no, y un número de teléfono alternativo, o “línea directa cálida”, para casos en los que los que llaman creen que una familia necesita ayuda material, en lugar de vigilancia.

Los críticos dicen que estos cambios podrían dejar a más niños vulnerables a abusos no denunciados.

“Me preocupa que agregando sistemas como la línea directa cálida, se nos escabullan los casos en lo que los niños están en verdadero peligro, y que no reciban ayuda”, dijo Hollynd Hoskins, abogada que representa a víctimas de abuso infantil.

Hoskins ha demandado a profesionales que no informan sus sospechas.

El grupo de trabajo de Colorado incluye a funcionarios de salud y educación, fiscales, defensores de las víctimas, representantes del bienestar infantil del condado y abogados, así como a cinco personas que tienen experiencia en el sistema de bienestar infantil. Planea finalizar sus recomendaciones a principios del próximo año con la esperanza de que los legisladores estatales consideren cambios en la política en 2025. La implementación de cualquier nueva ley podría llevar varios años.

Colorado es uno de varios estados, incluidos Nueva York y California, que han considerado recientemente cambios para restringir, en lugar de expandir, el informe sobre supuestos abusos.

En la ciudad de Nueva York, se está capacitando a los maestros para que lo piensen dos veces antes de hacer un informe, mientras que el estado de Nueva York introdujo una “línea directa cálida” para ayudar a conectar a las familias con recursos como vivienda y cuidado infantil.

En California, un grupo de trabajo estatal destinado a cambiar del “informe obligatorio al apoyo comunitario” está planeando recomendaciones similares a las de Colorado.

Entre los que abogan por el cambio están las personas con experiencia en el sistema de bienestar infantil. Incluyen a Maleeka Jihad, quien lidera la Coalición MJCF con sede en Denver, que aboga por la abolición del informe obligatorio junto con el resto del sistema de bienestar infantil, citando su daño a las comunidades negras, nativas americanas y latinas.

“El informe obligatorio es otra forma de mantenernos vigilados por blancos [no hispanos]”, dijo Jihad. A él mismo cuando era niño lo arrebataron del cuidado de un padre amoroso y lo colocaron en el sistema temporal.

La reforma no es suficiente, dijo. “Sabemos lo que necesitamos, y generalmente son fondos y recursos”. Algunos de estos recursos —como vivienda asequible y cuidado infantil— no existen a un nivel suficiente para todas las familias de Colorado que los necesitan, dijo Jihad.  

Otros servicios están disponibles, pero hay que encontrarlos. Lovelace dijo que los informes disminuyeron después que la familia obtuvo la ayuda que necesitaba, en forma de una exención de Medicaid que pagaba por atención especializada para las discapacidades de su hija.

Ahora, la niña está en séptimo grado y le va bien. Ninguno de los trabajadores sociales que visitaron a la familia mencionó la exención, dijo Lovelace. “Realmente creo que no sabían nada al respecto”.

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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