This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

Her team tends to “cringe” anytime they hear about patients having to fill out lots of paperwork, like when applying for Social Security Disability payments, because it can be a difficult, burdensome process.

Thornton tries to support her patients, she said, but understands the limits of her training.

“A lot of times the forms are so complex that I don’t really know what’s the true definition of what this form is asking me,” she said. “We refer them to a disability provider.”

Doctors including Thornton worry they’ll see more of those kinds of requests because of coming changes to Medicaid, the government health insurance program for people with low incomes or disabilities. Starting Jan. 1 in most of the country, some enrollees — mainly adults without dependents — must prove they’re working or performing other qualifying activities 80 hours a month.

issued in June say people can obtain an exemption if they’re “medically frail,” or too sick or disabled to work, which may require them to submit documentation from a medical professional. That standard prompted a lawsuit at the end of June from dozens of mostly Democratic-led states and has Thornton worried it could force her and her staff to assess things like how much a patient can lift or how far they can walk.

“If I’m asked, ‘Is this person medically frail?’ What does that even mean?” Thornton said. “I don’t know, and I’ve been doing this for 25 years.”

Last year’s GOP tax-and-spending law known as the One Big Beautiful Bill Act established the work rule, which will affect an estimated when more states start enforcing it. The mandate is expected to cause a larger increase in the number of people without health insurance than any other part of the law, a health information nonprofit that includes ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

Doctors say they aren’t trained to accurately assess whether someone’s health keeps them from working. Many don’t have time to handle another administrative task that takes them away from patient care. And being involved in whether someone gains access to a public benefit undermines the doctor-patient relationship, several doctor groups and physicians said.

“When you introduce unnecessary, non-evidence-based, confusing, and bureaucratic policies like this into clinical care, it just raises the level of moral distress for providers,” said Christopher Chen, a senior healthcare adviser at the consulting firm Manatt.

The Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services declined to respond on the record about doctors’ concerns. But the agency confirmed that enrollees may need to get documentation from a clinician to prove they’re too sick to work and said states would make final determinations.

The Trump administration has previously said states should use available data sources — such as medical claims and payment data — before making patients submit proof of medical frailty from a provider.

“Documentation should be relatively easy to provide,” Mehmet Oz, the CMS administrator, said during a June 1 press call.

But deciding whether a patient is too sick to work is a subjective, high-stakes decision, said Chen, who also practices as a hospitalist at Valley Medical Center in Renton, Washington.

“We’re trained to take care of people,” he said. “We’re trained to learn about someone’s symptoms, make diagnoses, treat them. We’re not trained to make these kinds of work determinations.”

When they apply and every six months after, Medicaid enrollees subject to the rule will have to prove that they’re performing the minimum monthly hours of qualifying activities — or will likely have to prove as frequently that they qualify for an exemption.

If states can’t find sufficient evidence that someone is too sick to work, that person will be able to self-attest to it under penalty of perjury — but only for a short time. States may take someone’s word that they’re medically frail twice in 2027 and only once in 2028.

Last month, 25 mostly Democratic-led states over the final regulations, arguing the medical frailty standard would be too hard for enrollees to meet — and for states to assess.

The standard, they argue, requires state Medicaid agencies to “take on the role of occupational medicine experts” or adds that burden to physicians who are not necessarily trained in occupational medicine.

CMS declined to comment on the litigation.

The Trump administration has crusaded against fraud in government health programs including Medicaid. It recently — including medical professionals — over more than $6.5 billion in alleged fraud schemes.

CMS has said it will keep a close watch on how states administer the work requirements and may take corrective action if states step out of line.

That has doctors concerned about the potential repercussions if they incorrectly assess whether someone is too sick to work, as farfetched as those worries might be, said Rahul Vanjani, a primary care and addiction medicine physician and researcher at Brown University.

“We, using our imaginations, wonder if someone is auditing these forms in the background and if they’re going to reach out to the licensing board.”

The country is short of primary care providers, and it could be hard for people seeking an exemption to find a clinician to help them document that they’re too sick to work, doctors said.

It will be even more challenging for someone without insurance, said Jennifer Wagner, who researches Medicaid eligibility at the left-leaning Center on Budget and Policy Priorities.

“How could an applicant who doesn’t have health coverage get a doctor’s note?” she asked.

The American Medical Association, the nation’s largest professional association of doctors and medical students, lobbied federal officials to change the standard for documenting medical frailty in the days before the final regulations were made public.

In May, the AMA sent to Oz, the CMS administrator, arguing that forcing doctors to attest to their patients’ ability to work wouldn’t just be an administrative headache but would affect the way they interact with those in their care.

In a statement, the association’s president, Willie Underwood III, said the work rule “transforms the clinical encounter into an eligibility gatekeeping process.”

“Patients will likely sense that shift,” he said. “And if they begin to suspect that what they share with their physician could affect their coverage, the conditions for open and honest communication will start to break down.”

Doctors have a fixed amount of time to spend with patients and would rather focus on treating medical conditions than filling out forms, especially ones that put them in a position to “represent the state,” said John Ayanian, an internal medicine physician and researcher at the University of Michigan.

“Their first obligation is to serve the best interest of their patients,” Ayanian said.

Lauren Davis, an attorney with Community Legal Services of Philadelphia, helps clients navigate other public benefit programs, such as the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, which has a similar work rule. Enrollees can get an exemption from it if they’re too sick to work.

She recalled a client with a cognitive condition that affected her memory. The client’s doctor wasn’t comfortable filling out an exemption form without seeing her in person, but she kept forgetting to make an appointment and eventually gave up, said Davis, who worries Medicaid enrollees could face similar barriers to getting exemptions.

“This person is eligible,” Davis said. “The reason that they’re not able to get what they need to show that they’re eligible is because of their medical condition.”

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

Her earliest memory is of standing on the passenger seat of her dad’s car as a toddler, wearing a peach-colored blouse, while he drove from their Kentucky home to Florida to pick up drugs. On a stop for a burger, she met Ronald McDonald.

“I grew up with the impression that that’s how you paid your bills,” Madden said. “That’s how your kids got things.”

By 16, she was addicted to pain pills. By 30, methamphetamine. She lost custody of two children and gave up two more for adoption at birth. She served time in the county jail and state prison.

Pregnant again at 40, Madden resolved to stop using. It was then that she learned of The Hub in Whitesburg, a town of 1,575 residents, her hometown.

Over the past two years, the state of Kentucky has sent hundreds of thousands of opioid settlement dollars to the rural eastern region of the state to help minimize the ramifications of drug misuse. The Hub, a program that oversees a network of community centers offering a range of services from recovery peer support to canned food to sterile syringes, is part of that effort.

In April, Kentucky Attorney General Russell Coleman announced $320,000 would be awarded to the Kentucky River District Health Department’s . There are now Hubs in four rural eastern Kentucky counties — Knott, Lee, Letcher, and Owsley, all of which are among the nation’s — addressing substance use disorders, housing, hunger, employment, and other challenges. The program also operates The Hub on Wheels, which provides services throughout the district.

In 2025, The Hub received $545,000 from the same source, facilitating expansion from two to five counties. (The fifth Hub will be in Perry County.) The new $320,000 is a two-year grant to develop a program to help women who’ve been incarcerated reintegrate into society.

Both grants are from Kentucky’s approximately $1 billion share of the $57.8 billion for state and local governments from the to resolve litigation for their role in fueling the opioid overdose crisis.

Madden believes investment in harm reduction services is money well spent. She’s witnessed them work in her own life. She’s found solid footing for recovery at The Hub.

But the Trump administration is cutting federal funding for such efforts, disputing their benefits. A told programs across the country that they could no longer expect federal funding. The order stipulated that discretionary grants issued by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration should not be spent on “so-called ‘harm reduction’” efforts, claiming they “only facilitate illegal drug use and its attendant harm.”

Advocates for these services in this rural region, which cast its ballots for President Donald Trump in all three elections, beg to differ.

Meeting Folks Where They Live

Whitesburg — home to a lively cultural scene, including — is a town residents are fiercely proud to call home. The Hub is housed in a storefront on Main Street, neighboring City Hall, Hazard Coffee Company, Cut-Away Barber & Beauty Shop, and the fire station. Like the other Hubs, it provides a range of services targeted to the needs of the community.

The inaugural Hub, launched in 2022 in Beattyville, the Lee County seat, two hours northwest of Whitesburg, offers breakfast and lunch, a food pantry, a clothing closet, a laundry room, and a computer lab. Also: , a medication that can quickly reverse an opioid overdose; drug test strips; hepatitis C treatment; sterile syringes; and wound care.

The program’s motto is “Meeting you where you are but not leaving you there!” It’s founded on the principles of . Harm reduction services are designed to minimize the effects of drug use, keep people safe, and treat them with respect, until they might be ready to enter recovery. The support includes housing, food, healthcare, and overdose prevention tools.

JoAnn Fraley is Kentucky River’s harm reduction program coordinator and its Hub initiative director. “In order for anybody to sustain recovery, they have to have financial stability, they have to have transportation, and they have to have a home,” she said. “We try to fill those gaps.”

While critics suggest that exchanging clean syringes for used ones abets drug use, research published in the Journal of Substance Use and Addiction Treatment indicates that people who participate in syringe services programs are more likely than those who don’t to or stop using drugs altogether, and that they are more likely to enter and remain in treatment. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, syringe services programs also by about half.

In 2025, Kentucky River’s Hub model was named one of 19 award winners by the National Association of County and City Health Officials.

“What jazzes me about it is it’s a community approach to harm reduction,” said Lauren Carr, who advises the Kentucky Association of Counties on how best to utilize opioid settlement funds. “Whether that’s feeding a hungry stomach, or putting clothes on somebody’s back, or giving them clean [syringes], you’re meeting that person’s needs.”

“It can be that lifeline,” Carr said.

Paying Back for Good

Becky Todd, who leads the Beattyville Hub’s team, is a community health worker and peer support specialist. In April 2024, she was released from jail, having served multiple sentences on drug-related charges. She walked 3 miles from jail to The Hub with nowhere else to go. She’s working toward her bachelor’s degree in social work at Eastern Kentucky University.

“I could not have done it without this place,” Todd said. “It’s my saving grace.”

Amber McDaniel recalls the first time she entered The Hub, after more than a decade of addiction, having lost her home, her kids, and her family’s support. “I didn’t know where to turn, didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I mean, I was about to lose my mind.” She’s now a Hub staff member .

Hannah Stamper was placed in foster care and began using meth at 14. She was drawn to dealing drugs because “I loved for people to need me.” She’s now on staff as a member of , a program that trains AmeriCorps members to work in the recovery field. “People today need me in a good way, and I love that.”

Fraley has witnessed a transition in Lee County. A half-dozen years ago, conversations in public meetings about addiction and homelessness were strained “because nobody wanted to talk about it or acknowledge it.”

The community sees The Hub’s impact, she said, “and now they’re, like, ‘Whoa. We love you.’”

Scott Lockard, the district’s public health director, said a combination of data and anecdotal observations substantiates the initiative’s success, including an increase in the number of people entering treatment and a decline in reported communicable diseases.

“I’ve been in public health for 36 years, and it’s one of the most effective interventions I’ve seen,” Lockard said.

The Kentucky River team worked to educate the community about the potential outcomes of the Hub model, and Fraley said there was little resistance, just concern that the money be well spent. She said the planning has always included people who have lived with addiction.

“Their voice needs to be at every table,” she said.

Lockard agrees. To ensure the community is investing this money wisely, he said, “we’ll talk to those people who are experiencing the problem, find out what they think would help them best, and then look for those evidence-based interventions.”

Jannie Gatlin and Mandy Parker, who both are in recovery, attended a recent crafting class at the Whitesburg Hub. Gatlin, who started taking fentanyl in Colorado after her first son died at 2 months old of a digestive disorder, comes almost every day with her toddler, Hunter.

Parker was prescribed opioids for pain from a kidney disorder. When those pills became less available, she turned to street drugs. “That’s just the nature of the beast,” she said.

She believes The Hub is helping break the stigma of substance use disorder in her community. When people see “real change happening,” she said, there’s a ripple effect. “It makes a difference.”

She appreciates that The Hub is here on Main Street — right, she firmly believes, where it should be.

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

If you or someone you know may be experiencing a mental health crisis, contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by dialing or texting “988.”

Nearly every Tuesday for a decade, Steve Siple attended a bar trivia night with friends in Birmingham, Alabama. After moving to North Carolina, he developed a new ritual — on Saturdays to pick up trash along the city’s light rail.

These are more than fun outings to Siple. They help keep him alive.

Siple has battled suicidal thoughts in the past. He lost his father to suicide, and one of his sons has struggled with thoughts of hurting himself.

That’s made Siple vigilant about protecting himself and his family. In addition to seeing a counselor regularly and speaking openly about mental health, he prioritizes social connection.

“Loneliness was, over my lifetime, one of the greatest risk factors” for suicide, said Siple, a for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.

To some, this concept may seem obvious. Yet in the overall approach to suicide prevention, it’s often overlooked. Treatment of a serious mental illness that can lead to suicide, such as major depressive disorder, often centers on medication and talk therapy with little or no consideration of factors such as social isolation or financial duress. Now, there’s a growing movement to address loneliness not just through personal choices but also through public policy.

The research is clear: Among the various complex issues that contribute to suicide, is a . It’s a for older adults, who have and for youths, for whom .

Humans are social animals. When we feel cut off from one another, our , our , and ultimately we’re (by suicide or ). An concluded that being socially disconnected is as harmful to one’s health as smoking up to 15 cigarettes a day.

And it’s getting worse.

Mental health researchers and clinicians say a variety of factors are in America, including the , such as smartphones and ; increased ; the since the covid pandemic; and .

With suicide rates remaining stubbornly high — often ranking among the in America — some advocates and people who have lost loved ones to suicide say increasing pathways to social connection could be a new frontier.

In this ongoing series, ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is examining new approaches to suicide prevention that shift the focus from stopping harm in moments of crisis to efforts that give people reasons to live well before they make fateful choices.

“If we want to reduce suicide rates in our country, which is absolutely essential, then a key part of that has to be fostering social connection,” said who served as surgeon general under Presidents Barack Obama and Joe Biden. “We have more than enough data to support this as being an important area of focus.”

In 2023, Murthy released the first on loneliness as a public health issue, with more than 300 supporting citations. He’s also on the topic and is touring the country discussing the value of social connection.

“To help someone else feel less alone, to help them feel seen and understood and valued,” he told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, “that can be one of the most powerful interventions that we make.”

A Role for Elected Officials

Curing loneliness may seem like the responsibility of families and neighbors, people making one-to-one connections. But Murthy says elected officials have work to do, too.

They can use their bully pulpits to turn this into a mainstream issue, he said. They can create microgrants to support grassroots ideas from community entrepreneurs and invest in “social infrastructure,” he added.

That term refers to things in the community that support the development of social connection, from physical spaces, such as libraries and parks, to policies and programs, such as building public transportation and fostering volunteer groups.

“These all matter and impact whether people gather,” Murthy said.

However, investing in public institutions and infrastructure is a costly endeavor that can seem unreasonable when local officials are struggling to balance budgets without increasing tax burdens.

That’s where creativity can kick in.

A health system and a museum in Charlotte have teamed up to for people to attend art classes or live performances together. In Tennessee, the city of Chattanooga is funding community ideas to increase connection and time in nature, where people can speak with volunteer listeners. And across the country, have popped up as places where men can work on projects side by side and discuss their mental health.

Meal Deliveries and Valentines

Marcie O’Neal knew she wouldn’t have much money at her disposal. She was hired in 2024 to lead suicide prevention efforts in the rural of western Kentucky after local leaders saw a rise in suicides among the elderly. Her grant was about $280,000 — less than .

But she knew the nine-county area had other strengths, such as dedicated meal delivery programs and high school clubs.

Drivers who drop off prepared meals to homebound residents “can be the only person that an older adult sees in the week,” O’Neal said.

The state had already been training some of those drivers to recognize warning signs of suicide among older people and alert county agencies to follow up with them. O’Neal thought there could be another component.

She reached out to high school , which focus on fostering leadership skills and volunteerism, across the nine counties and asked them to write cards that could be distributed to older residents along with meals. The response was swift, O’Neal said.

About 1,200 cards were delivered last May. They repeated the gesture in February for Valentine’s Day and again this May.

O’Neal said one of the older residents told her, “I don’t remember the last time I got a Valentine’s card.”

The students also enjoyed feeling as if they made a difference, O’Neal said. She’s helping one school set up an ongoing pen pal program with a nearby retirement community.

Locals affectionately call O’Neal “the suicide lady” — a term she considers “a badge of honor.”

Suicide prevention “doesn’t have to be sweeping huge things,” she said. “It’s a little thing you can do that can kind of snowball into more things.”

‘The Secret Sauce’

Siple, who has prioritized social connection through the trivia nights and volunteer clean-ups, felt most alone when he transitioned from a job at a commercial bank to working at home.

He spent most of his day analyzing Excel sheets, drafting grant proposals, and compiling recommendations for clients. The work felt important, but it was isolating, Siple said.

“If my wife or kids were around during the evening, I was safe,” he said. Holding meetings at coffee shops helped, too.

But when it was just him at his desk, “that’s where I got the darkest lonely feelings,” he said, including thoughts of suicide.

Breaking out of that required seeking new connections.

Siple said church was a great anchor for him and his wife — not just on Sundays but throughout the week at Bible studies and potlucks. They also go to see a variety of live music, including bluegrass and alternative rock.

“Being with folks that are into the same type of music that we’re into for a concert feels like connection,” he said.

Research suggests sports can play a similar role in some instances. At least two studies have found are associated with . The authors posit it’s because people coming together to support their team or to enjoy the event creates a sense of belonging, which is protective.

That concept resonates with , who has worked on suicide prevention efforts at the state and and helps run Sources of Strength, an upstream prevention program. Fostering that sense of belonging has played a central role in each of those initiatives, she said.

“We can’t eliminate hard stuff in our lives,” said Brummett, who lost five friends to suicide, starting in middle school.

“Belonging is really the secret sauce,” she said, “for how we, as humans, can navigate really hard things.”

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

LISTEN: After a guilty verdict for negligent homicide, a former nurse has found receptive audiences on the speaking circuit. She says she hopes her story can help shed light on problems in the healthcare industry.

When RaDonda Vaught got her first speaking request, it had been a year since that day in a Nashville courtroom, when she listened as a jury read her guilty verdict for negligent homicide and neglect of an impaired adult.

That was in 2022. Vaught was sentenced to three years of probation for administering the wrong medication and killing a patient at Vanderbilt University Medical Center in 2017.

She also lost her nursing license. So Vaught became a full-time farmer. She and her husband live on a in Bethpage, Tennessee, tucked in the rolling hills north of Nashville. They sell eggs at farmers markets on Saturdays and supply meat to local butchers and restaurants.

The controversial trial had been national news, and now the healthcare industry wanted to hear from her. So Vaught started giving speeches across the country about what happened that day in the hospital. She says her hope is that others in an industry increasingly turning toward automation and artificial intelligence can understand the multiple factors that contributed to the deadly medication mix-up.

She says she’s painfully aware that it could appear she is profiting from a tragedy of her making.

“It wasn’t something that I wanted to happen. It wasn’t even something that was on my radar to think about,” Vaught said of the speaking requests. “The opportunities just kept presenting themselves.”

The speaking engagements provide her with an income that replaces what she made as a nurse, a career she can never return to. Last year, she told her story more than 20 times, and she is paid $5,000 to $10,000 per event.

But her speaking engagements also provoke criticism. After she told her story at length on Nashville Public Radio’s in March, a retired nurse, Gary Wood, fired off an email to the station. Such medical mistakes could never be justified, he wrote: “It put a stain on a proud and dedicated profession.” Yet, Vaught often finds a receptive audience, eager to hear her perspective.

“I’ve seen her a few times now in person, and I’ve never seen RaDonda tell the story and not be upset,” said Charlene Verga, who invited Vaught to be the closing speaker at the ’s clinical nursing conference last year.

“RaDonda speaking the way she is, she literally is transforming her mistake into a teaching moment,” Verga said.

Vaught expected the speaking gigs would be short-lived. But the reviews were good. And she realized she was comfortable in front of a crowd.

“It was emotionally overwhelming and a little cathartic, but I’m going to tell you, you could have heard a pin drop,” Vaught said of her first talk in 2023 to hundreds of industrial professionals at a meeting organized by , a Knoxville, Tennessee-based company that specializes in root cause analysis.

Vaught has turned her story into a cautionary tale that she hopes will make hospitals safer. She says that humans are going to make mistakes and that systems in healthcare need to be designed so people can fail without killing someone.

“This whole mockery of our healthcare system — people feeling afraid to talk about mistakes and come forward when they happen — it doesn’t save people. It kills them,” she said in a presentation to the .

Onstage, Vaught confronts the painful and embarrassing details directly, often choking back tears when talking about the patient who died — Charlene Murphey.

It wasn’t just one mistake that led to the death.

A doctor had ordered a sedative called Versed to settle Murphey’s claustrophobia before an imaging procedure. Vaught typed “VE” into the search function to retrieve Versed from the electronic medicine cabinet. When it did not dispense, she overrode the system.

In Vaught’s trial, fellow nurses testified that during a time when the hospital was upgrading some of its technology, they could use overrides to bypass delays.

When Vaught took that step, one of the drug options available was vecuronium, a powerful paralytic. Vaught overlooked multiple warnings about the danger of vecuronium, including on the bottle’s cap, which said “Warning: Paralyzing Agent,” according to court records.

Vaught administered the vecuronium and also left the patient alone.

While not disputing most of the facts, Vaught pleaded not guilty to all charges, claiming there were other factors, such as a new electronic health record system that was causing widespread problems in the hospital. A lead investigator for the prosecution testified in the criminal case that Vanderbilt also shared some responsibility.

As previously reported by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, Vanderbilt did not initially report the error to regulators as required and told the medical examiner that the patient died of natural causes. The medical center fired Vaught and negotiated a settlement with the Murpheys that keeps the family from talking publicly about her death.

Once the case became a criminal matter, though, the details entered the public record. Vaught is not bound by the hospital’s settlement, allowing her to share whatever she feels comfortable sharing with whomever she wants.

Vanderbilt spokesperson Craig Boerner declined to comment about Vaught’s public speaking or what the medical center learned from the incident.

The two largest companies that make drug-dispensing cabinets, Omnicell and BD, have updated their machines with recommendations from the . One update requires the user to type in more than the first two letters of a medication to pull up a list of options.

Many hospitals also tweaked their drug administration protocols, such as by requiring wristband barcode checks anywhere a patient gets medication in a hospital.

Reacting to Vaught’s case, the state legislature in Kentucky that became law in 2024 providing immunity for on-the-job healthcare mistakes. Support wasn’t just bipartisan. It was unanimous.

Nursing consultant went to nursing school with Vaught and has worked directly with her as a nurse. Vaught’s criminal case inspired him to go to law school, he said. He now plans to help other nurses defend themselves in similar cases, even though he sees the need for accountability.

If it had been up to him, he also would have fired Vaught, Garvey said. He also thinks that the Tennessee Board of Nursing should have taken action immediately. Only after the patient’s death escalated to a criminal matter did the board revisit the case and revoke Vaught’s license.

But the defendants’ side of the story is rarely ever told, Garvey said, because they are advised by their lawyers not to talk.

Now that she has a platform, Garvey said, it’s therapeutic for Vaught. Her talks resonate with anxious nurses across the nation, he said, and promote a much-needed discussion about collective responsibility.

“We can’t change what happened. We can only change what we do moving forward,” Garvey said. “Having the individual who can tell you the play-by-play — that was there when it actually happened — is incredibly valuable.”

This article is from a partnership that includes ,Ìý, and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

The plan was to begin handing out boxes of groceries at 11, but the truck delivering the food blew a tire en route. No one complained.

Perry Hall was among those waiting. His wife, Lilly Hall, volunteers with the distribution team. Perry has been dealing with a form of cancer called multiple myeloma. The Halls get by on around $1,500 a month from his Social Security benefits, plus assistance from the federal , or SNAP. But because of her age, Lilly, 59, recently became subject to new SNAP work requirements and at risk of losing her benefits.

As part of the federal One Big Beautiful Bill Act, all “able-bodied adults” 64 or younger who don’t have dependents and don’t work, volunteer, or participate in job training at least 80 hours a month are now restricted to three months of benefits every three years from SNAP, formerly known as food stamps. Previously, the federal requirement applied to those 54 or younger. The new rule, which went into effect in November, also applies to parents of children 14 or older. And it removed exemptions for veterans, people experiencing homelessness, and young adults who’ve aged out of foster care.

Proponents of work requirements argue that they incentivize people who are “work-ready” to seek and keep jobs, reducing dependence on government assistance and upholding the “.”

Rhonda Rogombé serves as health and safety net policy analyst for the . She and her colleagues have studied the effects of SNAP work rules and found that requiring recipients to work does not lower an area’s unemployment rate.

Previous work requirements were suspended nationwide during the covid pandemic and reinstated in fall 2023. The researchers found that the average number of people employed in Mingo County each month actually went down after the requirement was reimposed.

A 2018 federal research project that examined several data sources, including SNAP data from nine states, found that work requirements “have no impact on labor force participation and the number of hours worked.”

There are a number of possible explanations, Rogombé said, “but when people are hungry, they’re not able to support themselves. When people are hungry, it’s harder to focus at work. It’s harder to engage in work activity, and we think that that’s part of it.”

Jobs are scarce in this southern West Virginia county. Lilly Hall found work at a Delbarton restaurant. But it’s unpaid until a waitress position opens — enough to preserve her benefits, but far from ideal.

On that mild Wednesday in late March, House of Hope provided chicken, eggs, bread, potatoes, fresh fruit and vegetables, and milk.

Among those in line were older residents and “some young people that have lost their way and they can’t get work and they just need help,” said Timothy Treleven, who operates the pantry with his wife, Christine, and Gail Lendearo.

House of Hope’s scheduled distribution day is the last Saturday of each month — supplemented by occasional weekday Facing Hunger visits — as money from monthly checks begins to run out and cupboards go bare.

On a typical Saturday, pantry staff and volunteers hand out up to 400 boxes of food.

“It’s an honor to do this,” Lendearo said. “It’s a blessing.”

Perry Hall’s cancer is now in remission, but for a while his treatment required that he and Lilly travel back and forth, 4½ hours each way, to Morgantown. The couple’s van couldn’t make the trip, so they paid a friend for rides.

Mingo’s population is just under 22,000, down from around 27,000 in 2010. It once flourished, fueled by coal. Williamson, the county seat, was home to an opera house and businesses operated by immigrants from Italy, Russia, and Syria. The region is still referred to as “the coalfields,” but little is mined here these days. .

Rogombé and her colleagues found that Mingo County residents face significant barriers to securing what few jobs are available. These include unreported physical and mental impairments, housing insecurity, and a lack of high school diplomas and identification documents.

Filing the paperwork to receive benefits or to confirm compliance is difficult for many residents. The West Virginia Center on Budget and Policy’s research found that about 1 in 4 lack reliable internet access.

Additional changes lie ahead for the SNAP program. Currently, the federal government and the states share administrative costs equally, but in October states will assume 75% of those costs. And beginning in October 2027, they’ll be required to pay additional costs based on .

Kentucky, like West Virginia, is among the poorer states that will be most affected by the new requirements and costs. The Kentucky Center for Economic Policy estimates that with the expanded work requirements.

Jessica Klein, a researcher with the center, worries about the consequences. “We know SNAP has an impact on health, and not just because it decreases food insecurity,” she said. It worsens blood pressure rates, obesity, medication adherence, and more.

With the additional financial burden placed on states, “I think what we’ll see is some states changing rules that impact participation in order to have a smaller, more affordable program,” Klein said. “My fear is that some states will choose not to operate SNAP at all.”

In Mingo County, folks are stepping up. At least eight food pantries offer groceries to those in need.

Janet Gibson runs the Blessing Barn pantry in the Ben Creek community. “I can go from one end of the creek to the other” and tell you everyone’s name and a little something about them, she said. She takes pride in feeding her people.

Gibson said it can be hard to find even volunteer opportunities in the county, largely because of transportation challenges. A look at a local map can be misleading: A couple of dozen miles into a holler or up a ridge could take an hour or more.

“Whether you’re working full-time or not, you’re still spinning out gas to get to work,” Gibson said, “and gas ain’t cheap now.”

A single mother of three, Trista Shankle of Paducah, Kentucky, isn’t subject to the new SNAP requirements, but she worries about the fragility of the social safety net. She overcame challenges, is earning a master’s degree in social work, and works for an organization that connects community college students with benefits. Her family receives SNAP, Medicaid, housing support, and assistance from the USDA’s . If any one of those is cut, she said, she may have to drop out of school.

Shankle is certain she wouldn’t have advanced to where she is today without the benefits she and her family have received: “They bring a sense of calm and comfort. I know that my kids aren’t going to go hungry.”

The first week in April, Lilly Hall reported for work at Black Bear Trails Restaurant. She’s grateful for the opportunity. And when a waitress slot opens, “I’ll snag that position so quick it’ll make your head flip.”

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But Republican lawmakers in some states think the new rules — part of the GOP’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act, signed last July by President Donald Trump — don’t go far enough.

Indiana is leading that charge, with a new law that requires applicants to prove they’ve been working or participating in a similar activity for three consecutive months to get benefits.

Meanwhile, residents in many other states will have to show they’ve been working just one month, the least cumbersome option under Trump’s signature tax-and-domestic-spending law. It instructs states to decide whether to require one, two, or three months of work history.

As in Indiana, Republican Idaho lawmakers approved a three-month requirement, and the state’s governor signed the bill into law on April 10.

The efforts, along with similar moves in Arizona, Missouri, and Kentucky, are aimed at restricting flexibility to implement the federal law at the state level.

“Normally, you would not see state legislators weighing in on these decisions,” said Lucy Dagneau, a senior official with the American Cancer Society’s advocacy arm.

The nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office estimated 18.5 million adults will be subject to the new rules, which will be enforced across 42 states and the District of Columbia. In Indiana, work rules will target about 33% of the state’s Medicaid population. The rules generally wouldn’t apply to children, people 65 or older, or people with disabilities or serious health issues.

Typically, state administrators — not lawmakers — detail how they plan to comply with new federal standards, and they often look to federal regulators for guidance. But officials at the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services have yet to tell states how to comply with many aspects of the sweeping budget law, leaving state lawmakers to intervene.

Gov. Mike Braun, a Republican, signed the Indiana bill into law on March 4, making his state the first to set the Medicaid work requirement at three months — the longest period allowed under the federal law.

Republican state Sen. Chris Garten introduced a bill in January, saying it was needed to “align” state law with the new federal Medicaid rules. He also pitched the bill as a way to crack down on “waste, fraud, and abuse” in public programs.

When ineligible people get enrolled, it robs “the truly vulnerable Hoosier who actually needs the help,” Garten said during a January committee hearing.

Democratic state Sen. Fady Qaddoura expressed skepticism during the hearing and questioned the necessity of the legislation. Qaddoura asked Indiana Family and Social Services Administration Secretary Mitch Roob to provide an estimate of the number of ineligible people who enrolled in Medicaid in the state.

“I think very few,” Roob replied. “It’ll never be none.”

After hearing Roob’s answer, Qaddoura said there is no evidence of a widespread problem in Indiana. He accused Republicans of using waste, fraud, and abuse as justification to deny health benefits and food aid to vulnerable Hoosiers.

Garten later called Qaddoura’s accusation a “fundamental mischaracterization” of the bill.

Republicans have said imposing these limits protects the Medicaid program’s longevity.

“We believe in a safety net for our most vulnerable, not a hammock for able-bodied adults that choose not to work,” Garten said. “By tightening these screws, we ensure that our safety net remains sustainable.”

Indiana’s Medicaid enrollment is expected to decrease because of Garten’s legislation, according to an analysis from Indiana’s nonpartisan Legislative Services Agency.

Medicaid helps keep people healthy, so they can continue to work, said Adam Mueller, executive director of the Indiana Justice Project, a nonpartisan legal advocacy organization focusing on health, housing, and food insecurity.

Mueller worries that people will struggle to prove their work history, especially those with nontraditional jobs.

“If the point is to get people engaged, the one month would do it,” Mueller said.

Ultimately, he fears the law will harm Hoosiers with the greatest need for assistance. “They’re going to get tripped up by the bureaucratic hurdles.”

An analysis by the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities predicted that work rules will and that how states choose to implement the rules will “significantly affect the number of people who lose coverage.” State policy decisions will determine just “how intense the burden is,” the left-leaning think tank found, and opting for a shorter look-back period “will enable more people to enroll.”

Lawmakers in multiple states considered limits. And the same right-leaning lobbying group, the Foundation for Government Accountability, testified in favor of these measures in Arizona, Indiana, and Missouri.

In Missouri, FGA lobbyist James Harris said the measure intends to “move people from dependency and give them back that dignity and pride of work.”

Missouri state Rep. Darin Chappell proposed requiring a three-month look-back period like the measure in Indiana. But the latest version of the bill he sponsored would require applicants to show they were working for only one month before enrolling.

Chappell, a Republican, said his initiative would encourage a “working mindset.”

Anna Meyer, owner of a small bakery in Columbia, Missouri, said the implication is that she and others on Medicaid are lazy. “I have been working since I was 15 years old,” she said. “I’m 43 now.”

Meyer, who voiced her opposition, said she previously had problems submitting information to the state Medicaid agency. She fears new reporting requirements will put her and others at risk of losing coverage, even if they meet the work rule.

She has fibromyalgia, a chronic condition that increases overall sensitivity to pain. She also has food allergies. Medicaid helps pay for medications and doctor visits that keep her healthy and allow her to keep working.

“I work very hard,” Meyer said.

In St. Louis, Jessica Norton, an OB-GYN, treats many Medicaid patients at an Affinia Healthcare clinic. She said they struggle to remain insured even though Missouri extends a full year of Medicaid coverage to eligible women after they give birth. Some of her patients are inexplicably kicked off that coverage by the time of their checkups six weeks after birth. She fears red tape from the new work requirements will make it harder to hang on to insurance, even though pregnant women and new mothers are supposed to be exempt.

Norton criticized lawmakers for the message this policy sends to vulnerable patients. They are saying, “Oh, actually, health care is a privilege, and you have to earn it,” she said.

of adults ages 19 to 64 on Medicaid already work, according to KFF. The reason many of the remaining adults on Medicaid are not working is that they are retired, serving as a caregiver, or too sick, KFF has found.

Some states are not only setting the strictest requirements but also blocking out the optional leniency built into the federal rules.

For example, states may adopt additional exemptions from work rules, such as allowing people to claim a “short-term hardship,” designed to provide continued Medicaid coverage to people with medical conditions that prevent them from working.

Missouri lawmakers are seeking a constitutional amendment to bar their state from offering such optional exemptions. But patient advocates warn these limits would harm the state’s vulnerable residents when they need coverage the most, particularly Missouri’s rural cancer patients.

Often, rural Missouri patients must travel to Kansas City or St. Louis for treatment, disrupting their ability to work, Emily Kalmer, a lobbyist for the American Cancer Society’s advocacy arm, testified at the January hearing. Recognizing this, the federal law provides certain exemptions for this kind of scenario.

But this short-term hardship exemption would be off the table in Missouri.

Time is “very important in the life of a cancer patient or a cancer survivor,” Kalmer said.

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Six months after a West Virginia man died following a protracted battle with his health insurer over doctor-recommended cancer care, the state’s Republican governor signed a bill intended to curb the harm of insurance denials.

West Virginia’s Public Employees Insurance Agency enrolls nearly 215,000 people — state workers, as well as their spouses and dependents. The new law, which will take effect June 10, will allow plan members who have been approved for a course of treatment to pursue an alternative, medically appropriate treatment of equal or lesser value without the need for another approval from the state-based health plan.

“This legislation is rooted in a simple principle: if a treatment has already been approved, patients should be able to pursue a medically appropriate alternative without being forced to start the process over again — especially when it does not cost more,” Gov. Patrick Morrisey said in a statement after signing the bill into law on March 31.

“This is about common sense, compassion, and trusting patients and their doctors to make the best decisions for their care,” he said.

Delegate Laura Kimble, the Republican from Harrison County who introduced the legislation, told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ the measure offers “a rational solution” for patients facing “the most irrational and chaotic time of their lives.”

From Arizona to Rhode Island, at least half of all state legislatures have taken up bills this year related to prior authorization, a process that requires patients or their medical team to seek approval from an insurer before proceeding with care. These state efforts come as patients across the country await relief from prior authorization hurdles, as promised by dozens of major health insurers in a pledge announced by the Trump administration last year.

The West Virginia law was inspired by Eric Tennant, a coal-mining safety instructor from Bridgeport who died on Sept. 17 at age 58. In early 2025, the Public Employees Insurance Agency of a $50,000 noninvasive cancer treatment, called histotripsy, that would have used ultrasound waves to target, and potentially shrink, the largest tumor in his liver. His family didn’t expect the procedure to eradicate the cancer, but they hoped it would buy him more time and improve his quality of life. The insurer said the procedure wasn’t medically necessary and that it was considered “experimental and investigational.”

Becky Tennant, Eric’s widow, told members of a West Virginia House committee in late February that she submitted medical records, expert opinions, and data as part of several attempts to appeal the denial. She also reached out to “almost every one of our state representatives,” asking for help.

Nothing worked, she told lawmakers, until ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and NBC News got involved and posed questions to the Public Employees Insurance Agency about Eric’s case. Only then did the insurer reverse its decision and approve histotripsy, Tennant said.

“But by then, the delay had already done its damage,” she said.

Within one week of the reversal in late May, Eric Tennant was hospitalized. His health continued to decline, and by midsummer he was no longer considered a suitable candidate for the procedure. “The insurance company’s decision did not simply delay care. It closed doors,” his wife said.

Had the new law been in effect, Kimble said, Tennant could have undergone histotripsy without preapproval, because it was a less expensive alternative to chemotherapy, which his insurer had already authorized. The bill was passed unanimously by the state legislature in March.

U.S. health insurers argue that most prior authorization requests are quickly, if not instantly, approved. AHIP, the health insurance industry trade group, says prior authorization in preventing potential harm to patients and reducing unnecessary health care costs. But denials and delays tend to affect patients who need expensive, time-sensitive care, .

The practice has come under intense scrutiny in recent years, particularly after the in New York City in late 2024. Americans rank prior authorization as their biggest burden when it comes to getting health care, according to a by KFF, a health information nonprofit that includes ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

Samantha Knapp, a spokesperson for the West Virginia Department of Administration, would not answer questions about the law’s financial impact on the state. “We prefer to avoid any speculation at this time regarding potential impact or actions,” Knapp said.

In a fiscal note attached to the bill, Jason Haught, the Public Employees Insurance Agency’s chief financial officer, said the law would cost the agency an estimated $13 million annually and “cause member disruption.”

West Virginia isn’t an outlier in targeting prior authorization. By late 2025, 48 other states, in addition to the District of Columbia and Puerto Rico, already had some form of a prior authorization law — or laws — on the books, according to a by the National Association of Insurance Commissioners.

Many states have set up “gold carding” programs, which allow physicians with a track record of approvals to bypass prior authorization requirements. Some states establish a maximum number of days insurance companies are allowed to respond to requests, while others prohibit insurance companies from issuing retrospective denials after a service has already been preauthorized. There are also a crop of new state laws seeking to regulate the use of artificial intelligence in prior authorization decision-making.

Meanwhile, prior authorization bills introduced this year across the country, including in Kentucky, Missouri, and New Jersey, have been supported by politicians from both parties.

“Republicans in conservative states see health care as a vulnerability for the midterm elections, and so, unsurprisingly, you’ll see some action on this,” said Robert Hartwig, a clinical associate professor of risk management, insurance, and finance at the University of South Carolina. “They realize that they’re not really going to get much action at the federal level given the degree of gridlock we’ve already seen.”

Last summer, the Trump administration announced a pledge signed by dozens of health insurers vowing to reform prior authorization. The insurers promised to reduce the scope of claims that require preapproval, decrease wait times, and communicate with patients in clear language when denying a request.

Consumers, patient advocates, and medical providers that companies will follow through on their promises.

Becky Tennant is skeptical, too. That’s why she advocated for the West Virginia bill.

“Families should not have to beg, appeal, or go public just to access time-sensitive care,” she told lawmakers. Tennant, who sees the bill’s passage as bittersweet, said she thought her husband would have been proud.

During Eric’s final hospital stay, Tennant recalled, right before he was discharged to home hospice care, she asked him whether he wanted her to keep fighting to change the state agency’s prior authorization process.

“‘Well, you need to at least try to change it,’” she recalled her husband saying. “‘Because it’s not fair.’”

“I told him I would keep trying,” she said, “at least for a while. And so I am keeping that promise to him.”

NBC News health and medical unit producer Jason Kane and correspondent Erin McLaughlin contributed to this report.

Do you have an experience with prior authorization you’d like to share? to tell ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ your story.

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State governments rely on such companies to design and operate computer systems that assess whether low-income people qualify for Medicaid or food aid through the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, commonly referred to as food stamps. Those state systems have a history of errors that can cut off benefits to eligible people, a ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ investigation showed.

These benefits, provided to the poorest Americans, can mean the difference between someone obtaining medical care and having enough to eat — or going without.

States are now racing to update their eligibility systems to adhere to President Donald Trump’s sweeping tax and domestic spending law. The changes will add red tape and restrictions. They are coming at a steep price — both in the cost to taxpayers and coverage losses — according to state documents obtained by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and interviews.

The documents show government agencies will spend millions to save considerably more by removing people from health benefits. While states sign eligibility system contracts with companies and work with them to manage updates, the federal government foots most of the bill.

The law’s Medicaid policies will cause to become uninsured by 2034, according to the nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office. Roughly will lose access to monthly cash assistance for food, including those with children.

In five states alone, for state officials and reviewed by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ show that changes will cost at least $45.6 million combined.

“This is a pretty big payday,” said Adrianna McIntyre, an assistant professor of health policy and politics at Harvard’s T.H. Chan School of Public Health.

The law, which grants tax breaks to the nation’s wealthiest people, requires most states to tie Medicaid coverage for some adults to having a job, and imposes other restrictions that will make it harder for people with low incomes to stay enrolled. SNAP restrictions began to take effect in 2025. Major Medicaid provisions begin later this year.

Documents prepared by consulting company Deloitte estimate that a pair of computer system changes for Medicaid work requirements in Wisconsin will . Two other changes related to the state’s SNAP program will cost an additional $4.2 million, according to the documents, which for the Wisconsin Department of Health Services.

In Iowa, changes to its Medicaid system are expected to cost at least $20 million, , a consulting company that operates the state’s eligibility system.

Optum — which operates the platform Vermont residents use for Medicaid and marketplace health plans under the Affordable Care Act — to evaluate and incorporate new health coverage restrictions.

Initial changes in Kentucky, which has had a contract with Deloitte since 2012, . And in Illinois, will cost at least $12 million.

A Historic Mandate

For six decades after President Lyndon Johnson created the government insurance program in 1965, Congress had never mandated that Medicaid enrollees have a job, volunteer, or go to school.

That will change next year. The tax and spending law enacted by Trump and congressional Republicans requires millions of Medicaid enrollees in 42 states and the District of Columbia to prove they’re working or participating in a similar activity for 80 hours a month, unless they qualify for an exemption. The CBO projected, based on an early version of the bill, that 18.5 million adults would be subject to the new rules — .

Vermont Medicaid officials expect it will cost $5 million in fiscal 2027 to implement changes in response to the federal law, said Adaline Strumolo, deputy commissioner of the Department of Vermont Health Access. About $1.8 million is for Optum to make eligibility system adjustments. Optum is a subsidiary of UnitedHealth Group.

The One Big Beautiful Bill Act will subject nearly 55,000 Vermont Medicaid recipients to work requirements — about a third of the state’s enrollees.

The law forced the state “to essentially drop everything else we were doing,” Strumolo said in an interview. “This is a big, big lift.”

Optum’s contract with the state was as of October.

of adult Medicaid enrollees nationally are already working, according to KFF. Advocacy groups for Medicaid recipients say work requirements will nonetheless cause significant coverage losses. Enrollees will face added red tape to prove they’re complying. And eligibility systems already prone to error will have to account for employment, job-related activities, and any exemptions.

An estimated 5.3 million enrollees will become uninsured by 2034 due to work requirements, the .

In Wisconsin, state officials estimate could lose coverage after work requirements take effect. Not covering those people would in Medicaid spending for one year.

Wisconsin’s eligibility system for Medicaid and SNAP — known as CARES — in 1994, and initially was a transfer system from Florida, according to a 2016 state document.

Deloitte submitted its cost estimates for Medicaid and SNAP changes to the state in September and December. Elizabeth Goodsitt, a spokesperson for the Wisconsin Department of Health Services, declined to answer questions about whether additional changes will be needed, how much it will cost to make all eligibility system changes to comply with the new federal law, and whether the state negotiated prices with Deloitte.

Bobby Peterson, executive director of the public interest law firm ABC for Health, said Wisconsin has invested “very little” to help people navigate the Medicaid eligibility process, which soon will become more difficult.

“But they’re very willing to throw $6 million to their contractors to create the bells and whistles,” Peterson said. “That’s where I feel a sense of frustration.”

New Hurdles for Vets and Homeless People

Medicaid work requirements are only one change required by Trump’s tax law that will make it harder to obtain safety-net benefits.

Starting in October, the law prohibits several immigrant populations from accessing Medicaid and ACA coverage, including people who have been granted asylum, refugees, and certain survivors of domestic violence or human trafficking. Beginning Dec. 31, states must verify eligibility twice a year for millions of adults — doubling state officials’ workload. And the law restricts SNAP benefits by requiring more adult recipients to work and by removing work exemptions for veterans, homeless people, and former foster youth.

Days after Trump signed the bill in July, Kentucky health officials raced to make changes to the state’s integrated eligibility system, which verifies eligibility for Medicaid, SNAP, and other programs. Deloitte operates the system under a five-year . , initial changes costing $1.6 million were labeled a “high priority” and approved on an “emergency” basis, with some of the changes to the nation’s largest food aid program going into effect almost immediately.

Officials with Kentucky’s Cabinet for Health and Family Services declined to answer a detailed list of questions, including how much it will cost to make all the modifications needed.

Deloitte spokesperson Karen Walsh said the company is working with states to implement new requirements but declined to answer questions about cost estimates in several states. “We are delivering the value and investments we committed to,” Walsh said.

In most states, government agencies rely on contractors to build and run the systems that determine eligibility for Medicaid. Many of those states also use such computer systems for SNAP. But the federal government — that is, taxpayers — to develop and implement state Medicaid eligibility systems and pays 75% of ongoing maintenance and operations expenses, according to federal regulations.

“Five, 10 years ago, I’m not sure if you would hear much mention of SNAP from a Medicaid director,” Melisa Byrd, Washington, D.C.’s Medicaid director, said in November at an annual conference of Medicaid officials. “And particularly for those with integrated eligibility systems — as D.C. is —­ I’m learning more about SNAP than I ever thought.”

The federal law was the topic du jour at last year’s gathering in Maryland, held at the Gaylord National Resort and Convention Center, the largest hotel between New Jersey and Florida.

Consulting companies had taken notice. Gainwell, an eligibility contractor and one of the conference’s corporate sponsors, emblazoned its logo on hotel escalators. Companies set up booths with materials promoting how they could help states and handed out snacks and swag.

“Conduent helps agencies work smarter by simplifying operations, cutting costs and driving better outcomes through intelligent automation, analytics, and innovation in fraud prevention,” read one such handout from another contractor. “Together, we can better serve residents at every step of their health journeys.” Conduent holds Medicaid eligibility and enrollment contracts in Mississippi and New Jersey, their Medicaid agencies confirmed to ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

In handouts, Deloitte touted its role in “building a new era in state health care” and as “a national leader in Medicaid program and technology transformation, building a strong track record across the federal, state, and commercial health care ecosystem.” ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ found that Deloitte, a global consultancy that generated in revenue in fiscal 2025, dominates this slice of government business.

“With Medicaid Community Engagement (CE) requirements, states are tasked with adding a new condition of Medicaid eligibility to support state and federal objectives,” added another brochure. “Deloitte offers strategic outreach and responsive support to help states engage communities, lower barriers, and address access to coverage.”

A $20.3 Million Bill in Iowa

Before Trump signed the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, Iowa lawmakers wanted to impose their own version of work requirements. They would have applied to 183,000 people before any exemptions. The new law would necessitate a change to Iowa’s Medicaid eligibility system, according to documents prepared by Accenture, which operates Iowa’s system through a .

Adding the ability to verify work status would cost up to $7 million, . By July, the cost to implement the One Big Beautiful Bill Act’s work requirements and other Medicaid provisions . Accenture’s analysis said the federal law necessitated . Making employment a condition of Medicaid benefits could cause an estimated 32,000 Iowans to lose coverage, according to a

Cutting 32,000 people from coverage in one year, a fraction of the Iowa and the federal government spend on Medicaid in a given year.

In Cedar Rapids, most of Eastern Iowa Health Center’s patients rely on Medicaid, CEO Joe Lock said. He questioned the government’s logic of spending tens of millions of dollars on a policy to remove Iowans from Medicaid.

Most of the health center’s patients live at or below the federal poverty level — currently .

“There is no benefit to this population,” Lock said.

Danielle Sample, a spokesperson for Iowa’s Department of Health and Human Services, did not answer questions about how much it will cost to implement changes to the state’s separate SNAP eligibility system.

In Illinois, the state’s work this year is largely focused on meeting major provisions of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act. The state estimates that as many as 360,000 residents could lose Medicaid, largely due to the work requirements, said Melissa Kula, a spokesperson for the Illinois Department of Healthcare and Family Services.

Kula confirmed that — priced at $12 million — is related to Trump’s law. The estimate also mentions other work. Kula said Deloitte is charging the state a $2 million fixed fee related to work requirements.

The Trump administration has acknowledged that the work is coming at a cost. In January, top officials for the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services said government contractors, including Deloitte, Accenture, and Optum, have and reduced rates through 2028 to help states incorporate system changes.

“The companies were extremely excited to do this,” , the top CMS Medicaid official. “Everyone’s really focused on getting to work.”

CMS spokesperson Catherine Howden declined to answer questions about the discounts.

Goodsitt, the Wisconsin Medicaid spokesperson, declined to answer questions about whether Deloitte has discounted its rates. Officials with Kentucky’s Cabinet for Health and Family Services did not answer a detailed list of questions, including whether Deloitte extended discounts to make these changes.

It’s unclear what discounts, if any, Deloitte and Accenture have offered to individual states. Walsh, the Deloitte spokesperson, declined to answer detailed questions about the discounts the Trump administration announced this year. Accenture did not respond to repeated requests for comment.

Strumolo, the Vermont health official, said state officials discussed the announcement with Optum “in detail.”

Optum for a specific module related to Medicaid work requirements. That product is unworkable for Vermont because it would mean “moving to a new system when we don’t have to.” When asked about whether the company offered discounts, Strumolo said “not explicitly.”

In a statement, UnitedHealth Group spokesperson Tyler Mason said Optum supports state implementation of new federal requirements “with a range of options to meet their unique cost and policy needs.”

He declined to specify whether Optum discounted Vermont’s rates and how it calculated the costs of doing its work. “Optum is helping mitigate upfront implementation expenses so states can focus on approaches that reduce duplication, accelerate implementation, and manage costs over time — supporting better outcomes for individuals covered by Medicaid,” Mason said.

Strumolo said Optum’s initial changes in Vermont cover items that take effect this year and in 2027 — Medicaid work requirements, checking eligibility every six months, and prohibiting certain immigrants from qualifying for health programs.

“There’s a lot more that could come,” she said.

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The upshot, : Babies fed rival Mead Johnson Nutrition’s acidified liquid human milk fortifier — a nutritional supplement used in neonatal intensive care units — developed certain complications at higher rates than those given an Abbott fortifier, a researcher at the University of Nebraska had found.

At least one of those complications .

The Abbott scientist, Bridget Barrett-Reis, described the results in the email to colleagues, using two exclamation points. Then she proposed that Abbott test the Mead Johnson fortifier, acidified for sterilization, against another Abbott product.

The clinical trial among preterm infants that Abbott subsequently sponsored, , is a case study of corporate warfare in the high-stakes business of infant nutrition, wherein preemies have been coveted like commodities; their anxious, vulnerable parents have been — whether they know it or not — targets of calculated commercial pursuit; and scientific research has been used as a marketing tool.

In hospitals around the country, dozens of babies born an average of 11 weeks early were fed Mead Johnson’s fortifier. Dozens of others were fed an Abbott fortifier that wasn’t acidified.

The clinical trial became a boon for Abbott, which to wrest market share from Mead Johnson. But for some of the babies enrolled, it didn’t turn out so well, a ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ investigation found.

Far more infants given Mead Johnson’s product developed a buildup of acid in the blood called metabolic acidosis than those fed Abbott’s product — 19 versus four, according to results published in the journal .

Two outside doctors monitoring infants in the study became so alarmed that they refused to enroll any more babies, according to an April 2016 email one of them sent to Abbott.

In a related email to Abbott, neonatologist Robert White of Memorial Hospital in South Bend, Indiana, and Pediatrix Medical Group — an investigator in the study — .

“We had another SAE” — serious adverse event — “today in which a child developed profound metabolic acidosis while on the study fortifier,” White wrote. The severity was “unlike what we would see in most children with these issues.”

A manager at Abbott replied that the company was “taking your concerns very seriously.”

The study continued for almost a year.

At least some of the consent forms used to inform parents about risks did not mention metabolic acidosis or the often-fatal necrotizing enterocolitis, another condition identified in the 2013 email that led to the study.

In a November response to questions for this article, Abbott spokesperson Scott Stoffel said the clinical trial “was safe and ethical” and that the fortifiers it compared were “on the market and widely used.”

The study was “led by 20 non-Abbott investigators,” Stoffel said.

According to a federal website, chaired the study.

Stoffel added that the study was approved “by 14 independent safety review boards at hospitals” and “published in a leading peer-reviewed scientific journal.”

“It is reckless and not credible to suggest that these doctors and institutions conducted and then published the results of an unsafe or unethical study,” Stoffel said.

A spokesperson for Mead Johnson, Jennifer O’Neill, did not comment on Abbott’s clinical trial but said in a November statement to ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ that existing studies “cannot responsibly support” any connection between the acidified fortifier and conditions such as necrotizing enterocolitis or metabolic acidosis.

Mead Johnson executive Cindy Hasseberg argued in a deposition that Abbott waged a “smear campaign” against the acidified fortifier that was “very hard to come back from.”

In 2024, Mead Johnson discontinued the product.

Winning the ‘Hospital War’

Behind their warm-and-fuzzy marketing, industry giants Abbott, maker of Similac products, and Mead Johnson, maker of the Enfamil line, have turned neonatal intensive care units into arenas of brutal competition.

This article quotes from and is based largely on records from three lawsuits against formula manufacturers that went to trial in 2024 and are now on appeal. The cases are , , and The records include emails, internal presentations, and other company documents used as exhibits in litigation, as well as court transcripts and witness testimony from depositions.

The records provide an inside view of the business of infant formula and fortifier, a nutritional supplement added to a mother’s milk. For example, a Mead Johnson slide deck for a 2020 national sales meeting — later used in the Whitfield trial — outlined a plan for “Branding NICU Babies.”

Urging employees to win more sales from neonatal intensive care units, the document said: “’”

In internal documents and other material from litigation reviewed by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, formula makers described hospitals as gateways to the much larger retail market because parents are likely to stick with the brand their babies started on. Products used in the NICU help win hospital contracts, and hospital contracts help establish brand loyalty, according to court records.

Manufacturers vie for contracts that can be “exclusive” or nearly so, according to records from the litigation, including company documents and testimony by people who have worked in management for the companies.

An undated Abbott presentation used in the Gill case, apparently referring to inroads with hospitals in its rivalry with Mead Johnson, boasted of “MJ Strongholds Broken!”

It saluted two employees who “Own 27K Babies Exclusively,” and said another “Stole 600 formula feeders from MJ.”

Still others were praised for “Playing in Mom’s mailbox” or “kicking … and ‘taking names.’”

In July 2024, Abbott CEO Robert Ford said in a conference call for investors that formula and fortifier for preterm infants generated total annual revenue of about $9 million — a small portion of Abbott’s total sales of $42 billion in 2024 and its $2.2 billion of sales in the United States from pediatric nutritional products.

Industry documents cited in litigation provide a different perspective.

“‘,” stated an Abbott training presentation from about a decade ago used in the Gill and Whitfield trials.

That described a baby’s first formula feeding in the hospital, the document said. Over 74% of the time, an infant fed formula in the hospital stays on that brand at home, the document said.

Abbott’s goal was that the first-bottle-fed strategy , the document showed. A staff training slide displayed during the Whitfield trial showed how that momentum could pay off in bonuses for Abbott sales representatives, leading to a “Happy Rep.”

Mead Johnson has espoused a similar strategy.

The company rolled out a with cash rewards for flipping hospitals from Abbott, according to a 2019 document marked for internal use by Mead Johnson and its parent company, England-based Reckitt Benckiser Group, and admitted into evidence in the Watson case.

“ is critical to contract gains and acquisition,” stated a company plan for 2022 that was cited in the Whitfield case.

One Abbott document shown in the Whitfield trial said more than half of first feedings happen at night, adding, “.”

A “Mead Johnson University” training document described a scenario in which a sales rep overhears patient information in a NICU and encouraged the rep to promote the company’s products. The document, titled “,” was admitted as evidence in the Watson case.

“[Y]ou are walking back into your most important NICU,” it said. “You overhear the HCP’s” — health care providers, apparently — “stating all of the notes,” it said. “There may be some information that may help you to position your products as a resource for this patient and to handle any objections that the HCP may present you with.”

To win parents’ business, companies have supplied formula to hospitals free or at a loss, court records show. That has resulted in such curiosities as a Mead Johnson “purchasing agreement” cited in the Watson case, listing the price for product after product as “no charge.”

In a 2017 strategy document prepared for Mead Johnson, a consulting firm laid out a plan “to win hospital war.”

Why focus on hospitals? “,” it explained.

The document was displayed in the Whitfield case.

In the market for preterm nutrition, Abbott and Mead Johnson compete with each other, not against the use of human milk, the companies told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

“Thus, references in documents about wanting to ‘win’ or ‘own’ the NICU refer to out-performing Mead Johnson by offering the highest-quality products,” Abbott’s Stoffel said in February.

Asked specific questions about business strategies and internal documents, Mead Johnson’s O’Neill said the company was “concerned that you are presenting a misleading and incomplete picture.”

Mead Johnson’s products “are safe, effective, and recommended by neonatologists when clinically appropriate,” O’Neill added.

On the Defensive

In courthouses around the country, Abbott and Mead Johnson are on the defensive — and have been for years.

In hundreds of lawsuits, parents of sickened or deceased preterm infants have alleged that formula designed for preemies has caused necrotizing enterocolitis, or NEC, a devastating condition in which immature intestinal tissue can become infected and die, spreading infection through the body.

Lawsuits also accuse the manufacturers of failing to warn parents of the risk.

One of the cases on which this article is based, , resulted in a against Mead Johnson. , Gill v. Abbott Laboratories, et al., resulted in a against Abbott. , Whitfield v. St. Louis Children’s Hospital, et al., resulted in a , but the judge found errors and misconduct on the part of defense counsel, faulted his own performance, and .

The cases have involved children like Robynn Davis, who was born at 26 weeks, lost 75% to 80% of her intestine to NEC, suffered brain damage — and, at almost 3 years old, couldn’t walk, couldn’t really talk, and was eating through a tube, as Jacob Plattenberger, an attorney representing her, in 2024.

An attorney for Abbott, James Hurst, that Robynn suffered a catastrophic brain injury at birth, 10 days before she received any Abbott formula, and that her NEC resulted not from formula but from many health problems.

In at least three cases, a federal judge has in favor of Abbott — ruling for the company before the lawsuits even reached trial.

The formula makers have repeatedly denied fault.

Addressing stock analysts in 2024, as “without merit or scientific support” the theory that preterm infant formula or milk fortifier caused NEC.

In a issued in 2024, the FDA, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and the National Institutes of Health said there was “no conclusive evidence that preterm infant formula causes NEC.”

Mead Johnson’s O’Neill said the scientific consensus is that there is no established causal link between the use of specialized preterm hospital nutrition products and NEC.

Neonatologists use the products routinely, O’Neill said.

O’Neill cited a statement by the saying the causes of NEC “are multifaceted and not completely understood.”

In a legal brief filed with an Illinois appeals court in the Watson case, the company said “the NEC-related risks” of a formula for preterm infants “are the subject of medical debate,” adding that trial evidence “demonstrated, at a minimum, uncertainty as to the magnitude of the risk, as well as the causal role of various feeding options in the development of NEC.”

Manufacturers say formula is needed when mother’s milk or human donor milk isn’t an option. Fortifier, a product tailored to preemies, is meant to augment mother’s milk when babies are born prematurely and a mother’s milk alone doesn’t deliver enough nutrition. The Mead Johnson fortifier used in the head-to-head clinical trial sponsored by Abbott was acidified to prevent bacterial contamination.

In March 2025, Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. announced that his department, which encompasses the FDA, was undertaking a review of infant formula, dubbed “Operation Stork Speed.” It includes and increasing testing for heavy metals and other contaminants, HHS said.

However, is limited. The agency doesn’t approve the products or their labeling. Whether to report adverse events — illnesses or deaths potentially related to the products — to the FDA is largely at manufacturers’ discretion.

The business of infant formula further spotlights a central contradiction in the Trump administration’s health policies. When it comes to food and medical products, the administration has criticized industry-funded research as unworthy of trust. Yet under Kennedy, it has disrupted, defunded, or sought to cut government-funded research, which could leave industry-funded research with a larger and more influential role.

It “is entirely appropriate for the Department to scrutinize research design, conflicts of interest, and funding sources, particularly when research is used to inform public policy,” HHS spokesperson Andrew Nixon said.

‘At the Table’

Company emails cited in litigation shed light on the industry’s approach to research.

In a 2015 email, when Mead Johnson was considering supplying some of its formula to a researcher for a study, a company neonatologist expressed concern that the results could be spun to make the preemie product look unsafe.

“However, we are more likely to have control over final language if we provide the small support and are ‘at the table’ with him,” Mead Johnson’s Timothy Cooper added in the email, which was cited in the Watson trial.

In 2017, Abbott with researchers at Johns Hopkins University about a study on how the composition of infant formula might affect NEC in mice. The email thread became an exhibit in the Whitfield case.

Abbott was both funding and collaborating on the work, shows.

Forwarding a draft of the resulting paper to Abbott, David Hackam, chief of pediatric surgery at the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, said in one of the emails, “We hope you like it.” He also requested help from Abbott in filling in information.

“The manuscript looks great!” Abbott’s Tapas Das , after a back-and-forth.

But Abbott had some changes, the email thread shows.

“We (VM & DT) made some edits in the text especially to soften a bit with the statement ‘infant formula seems responsible for developing NEC,’” Das wrote.

“Instead, we thought if we could state as ‘infant formula is linked to severity of NEC’. So we made changes throughout the text emphasizing on severity of NEC by infant formula rather than development of NEC by infant formula,” Das wrote.

Das wrote that “other factors are involved for NEC development as described in the text.”

Hackam did not respond to questions ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ sent by email.

Efforts to reach Das and Cooper — including by phoning numbers and sending letters to addresses that appeared to be associated with them — were unsuccessful.

When Mead Johnson provided support to scientific researchers, the company would want to make sure they reported the results “in an honest way,” Cooper said in a deposition played in the Watson trial.

The Abbott co-authors “proposed routine edits to the article for scientific accuracy and for the consideration of the other authors, some of the most well-respected NEC researchers in the world,” Abbott’s Stoffel said.

“Abbott regularly collaborates with and publishes studies with leading NEC scientists for the benefit of both premature infants and the entire scientific community,” Stoffel said.

“The research studies Mead Johnson supports are conducted independently and appropriately, with full transparency,” said O’Neill, the Mead Johnson spokesperson.

‘In the Wrong Direction’

Transparency can be subjective.

More than a decade ago, Mead Johnson sponsored a clinical trial testing what was then a new acidified liquid fortifier against a powdered fortifier already on the market.

In the study, which enrolled 150 babies, 5% of infants fed the acidified liquid developed NEC compared with 1% of infants fed the powder, according to deposition testimony and a record of the clinical trial used in the Watson case.

That information was not included in a 2012 that reported the study results.

The article, in the journal Pediatrics, whose authors included two Mead Johnson employees, concluded it was safe to use the new liquid fortifier instead of the powdered one. The article also said that, comparing babies fed the liquid with those fed the powder, the study observed no difference in the incidence of NEC.

The unpublished finding of 5% to 1% represented so few babies that it was not statistically significant.

Nonetheless, retired neonatologist Victor Herson, who ran a NICU in Connecticut and has studied fortifiers, said in an interview he would have wanted to see those numbers.

“The trend was in the wrong direction,” Herson said, “and would have, I think, alerted the typical neonatologist that, well, maybe not to rush in and adopt” the new fortifier.

It’s common for study publications to include tables showing complications even if they aren’t statistically significant so that readers can draw their own conclusions, Herson said.

Neonatologist Fernando Moya, a co-author of the Pediatrics article, had a different perspective.

“You may not be very familiar with medical literature but when there are no ‘statistically significant’ differences, we do not comment on whether something was increased or decreased,” Moya said by email. He referred questions to Mead Johnson.

Mead Johnson’s O’Neill gave several reasons why “the data you cite was not included in the publication.” She said the study was designed to examine infant nutrition and growth, NEC was a “secondary outcome,” the NEC numbers weren’t statistically significant, and the size of the study, “while appropriate, was not powered to draw any conclusions with respect to any potential differences in NEC.”

In a deposition used in the Watson trial, Carol Lynn Berseth — a co-author of the paper and Mead Johnson’s director of medical affairs for North America when the study was completed — testified that the article was peer-reviewed and that no reviewer asked for additional data.

“Had they asked for it, we would have shown it,” Berseth testified.

Berseth did not respond to a phone message or to an email or letter sent to addresses apparently associated with her.

‘It Should Not Be in a NICU’

The Abbott scientist who flagged research on Mead Johnson’s acidified fortifier in 2013, Bridget Barrett-Reis, was later of AL16, the follow-up clinical trial Abbott sponsored, and of .

In a deposition, she was asked why she conducted the study.

“I conducted that study because I thought [the acidified fortifier] could be dangerous,” she said, “and I thought it would be a good idea to find out if it really was because nobody was doing anything about it.”

Elaborating on the thinking behind the study, she testified: “It should not be in a NICU in the United States. That product should not be anywhere for preterm infants.”

In her 2013 email recommending that Abbott conduct a study, Barrett-Reis cited findings by “an independent investigator,” Ann Anderson-Berry, that showed, compared with preterm infants fed an Abbott powder, those on Mead Johnson’s acidified liquid “had slower growth, higher incidence of metabolic acidosis and NEC!!”

Asked about the exclamation points, Barrett-Reis testified in a January 2024 deposition used in the Gill case that she wasn’t excited about the findings. “I am known to put exclamation points instead of question marks and everything anywhere, so I have no idea at the time what those meant,” she testified.

The research that caught her eye in 2013 reviewed patient records from the Nebraska Medical Center. The institution had switched to the acidified fortifier with high hopes but stopped using it after four months because it was concerned about patient outcomes, Anderson-Berry and Nebraska co-authors .

In an interview, Anderson-Berry said she set out to analyze why, during those four months, babies’ growth “fell apart in our hands.”

Abbott was “very pleased” with Anderson-Berry’s findings and paid her to go around the country discussing them, she said.

Metabolic acidosis can be fatal, Anderson-Berry said. But typically it can be managed, she said, adding that she didn’t know of deaths from metabolic acidosis caused by the acidified fortifier.

Research has found that metabolic acidosis “is associated with poor developmental and neurologic outcomes in very low birth weight infants,” according to . In addition, it is “a risk factor for neonatal necrotizing enterocolitis,” the paper said.

Barrett-Reis did not respond to inquiries for this article, including a message sent via LinkedIn and a letter sent to an address that appeared to be associated with her.

In court, Abbott representative Robyn Spilker testified that metabolic acidosis and that nobody should knowingly put kids at risk for getting NEC in an effort to make money.

Before infants were enrolled in the AL16 study, their parents or guardians had to sign consent forms disclosing, among other things, the risks that clinical trial subjects would face.

International ethical principles for medical research on humans, known as the , say each participant must be adequately informed of the “potential risks.”

Questioning Abbott’s Spilker in litigation, plaintiff’s attorney Timothy Cronin said, “Ma’am, despite the hypothesis going in, are you aware Abbott on the informed consent form given to parents that signed their kids up for that study?” Spilker, who identified herself in court as a senior brand manager, said she didn’t know what was on the consent forms.

Through a request under a Kentucky open-records law, ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ obtained an informed consent form for the AL16 study used at a public institution, the University of Louisville. The form mentioned risks such as diarrhea, constipation, gas, and fussiness. It did not mention metabolic acidosis or NEC.

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ also reviewed an informed consent form for the AL16 study used at Memorial Hospital of South Bend. It was largely identical to the one used in Louisville and did not mention metabolic acidosis or NEC.

Cronin, the plaintiff’s attorney, said in an interview that Abbott showed disregard for the health and safety of premature babies participating in the AL16 clinical trial.

“I think it’s unethical to do a study if you know you are subjecting participants in the study to an increased risk of a potentially deadly disease and you don’t at least tell them that,” Cronin said.

Anderson-Berry told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ that Abbott was “ethically well positioned” to conduct the AL16 clinical trial because her paper was not definitive.

Yet she said she was unwilling to enroll any of her patients in the Abbott clinical trial because she didn’t want to take the chance that they would be given the acidified liquid.

White, the neonatologist who stopped enrolling patients in the study, defended the decision to conduct it. In an interview, he said it was appropriate to conduct a large, properly controlled clinical trial to see whether concerns raised in earlier research were borne out. The two babies whose serious adverse events he reported to Abbott ended up doing fine, he said.

But White, who went on to be listed as a co-author of the study, told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ that parents should have been informed that the risks included metabolic acidosis and NEC.

“In retrospect, obviously, that is something that we, I think, should have informed parents of,” he said.

Abbott did not directly answer questions about the consent forms.

The results of AL16 were in 2018. The conclusion: Infants fed the acidified product — in other words, the Mead Johnson fortifier — had higher rates of metabolic acidosis and poorer feeding tolerance. Plus, poorer “initial weight gain.”

The title of the article trumpeted “Improved Outcomes in Preterm Infants Fed a Nonacidified Liquid Human Milk Fortifier” — in other words, the Abbott product.

Eight of the 78 infants receiving the Mead Johnson fortifier were treated for metabolic acidosis, compared with none of the 82 receiving the Abbott product, the article said. Four infants on Mead Johnson’s product experienced serious adverse events, compared with one on the Abbott product, the article reported.

One infant receiving the Mead Johnson product died — from sepsis, the article said. One had a case of NEC, and infants on Mead Johnson’s fortifier “had significantly more vomiting,” the article said.

However, in a pair of letters to the editor published in the Journal of Pediatrics, the article as hyped. Writers said the article emphasized findings that were .

In its business battle with Mead Johnson, Abbott deployed the study. It produced an annotated copy for its sales force, which was shown in the Whitfield trial.

Abbott’s use of AL16 as a marketing tool worked.

In 2019, when Barrett-Reis applied for a promotion at Abbott, she wrote that the results of the study had been “leveraged to secure whole hospital contracts which have increased hospital share to > 70%.”

Her letter was displayed in a deposition video filed in the Gill litigation.

Internally, Mead Johnson conceded it had been beaten in the fight over fortifiers. In the slide deck for a 2020 national sales meeting, the company said, “Abbott won the narrative.”

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This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .