Transparency “is really important to help protect the integrity of the program, ensure funds are reaching the communities they’re meant to serve,” said Maya Sandalow, director of health policy for the Bipartisan Policy Center, a nonprofit think tank.

The federal government and states are compelled by public records laws to share documents when requested. But those requests can take months to fulfill, making their release too late for meaningful oversight as states rush to spend their allotments under tight federal deadlines.

In the meantime, the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services — which oversees the Rural Health Transformation Program — and some states aren’t proactively sharing information about where the funding is going and how it will be used.

CMS spokesperson Timothy Foster said the agency “will publish an annual report on state progress.”

States’ individual reports to CMS are “intended to be” shared upon request, but the agency won’t be proactively publishing the individual state reports, according to a CMS document.

Foster didn’t respond to questions about whether the agency will share examples of projects that are and aren’t working or create a tracker of funding recipients, award amounts, and what organizations plan to do with their funding — ideas that health and government transparency advocates have requested.

Instead, much of the program’s transparency thus far has been up to state governments, and “the level of details that states have publicized really varies,” said Sandalow, who co-wrote a on how the federal government can strengthen the rural health program, including through transparency.

Some states are sharing information with lawmakers, holding public meetings, and explaining where organizations plan to invest their money.

Others are more secretive, with multiple states declining to release public records in response to ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ requests. Mississippi’s governor , West Virginia holds closed-door advisory meetings, and a South Dakota official wrote that he hoped CMS would keep its application from public view.

“I just don’t believe in all this secrecy,” said Mississippi state Sen. Hob Bryan, who chairs his chamber’s public health committee. “If they’re not up to something nefarious, why do they have to do it all in secret?”

Bryan, a Democrat, said there’s about the lack of transparency in his state.

Reaching Rural Patients

Congressional Republicans created the five-year Rural Health Transformation Program last summer as an eleventh-hour sweetener to President Donald Trump’s signature One Big Beautiful Bill Act. The money was intended to offset concerns about the anticipated in rural communities from the law, which is expected to by more than $900 billion over a decade.

Sandalow said some states may be struggling to share information since they’re busy rushing to hire staff and meet the program’s tight deadlines, including an annual report due Aug. 31.

In the meantime, a slew of media outlets, nonprofits, and businesses are stepping in to make it easier for the public to track the rural health program.

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is collecting states’ applications and approved plans and budgets, not all of which have been posted on state websites.

Rural Health Payout

Tracking Applications for Rural Health Transformation Funds

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is working to collect and post complete application materials, by state, here and will update this repository as new materials, released in response to public records requests, arrive.

Dec. 4, 2025

Rural Health Payout

Tracking State Rural Health Transformation Plans

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is working to collect and post approved plans as more states respond to emails and public records requests for their documents.

July 27, 2026

And several and have created trackers that , post funding opportunities, or list award recipients. But some resources are available only through paid services, aimed at helping businesses interested in applying for money.

Sandalow said previous federal programs “tend to draw attention for gaps in transparency and oversight rather than for doing it well.”

As an example, she pointed to the lack of oversight and transparency with the CARES Act and other covid relief programs, which saw .

In March, CMS published proposed quarterly and annual state reporting requirements for the rural health program, and a . At least three groups replied with letters expressing concerns about transparency.

CMS should share states’ progress reports, funding recipients, and what organizations plan to do with their awards, , the Bipartisan Policy Center’s vice president for health policy.

Sharing this information would make it easier to track progress, identify successful programs that other states may want to replicate, and “ensure funds reach the rural communities they are intended to serve,” he wrote.

Molly Smith, group vice president for public policy at the American Hospital Association, “to be as detailed as possible” about the “final destinations of these funds, given the complexity of the grant funding process.”

In , Charlene MacDonald, who leads the Federation of American Hospitals, noted that some funding recipients, such as large health systems and academic medical centers, will be distributing their awards to other entities.

CMS should collect those “downstream subrecipients,” wrote MacDonald, whose group represents for-profit hospitals and healthcare systems.

Without this information, she said, it will be difficult to know if “funding is reaching the rural hospitals, providers, and communities primarily intended to benefit from the program.”

It can also be difficult to know which for-profit companies are being paid with rural health money.

For example, and have listed hospitals and other health facilities that received funding to purchase telehealth, scanning devices, and other health technology. But the states list only some of the companies from which recipients will buy those products.

States won’t have to report “downstream” funding in their August reports to CMS but will have to do so for all future reports, according to the agency’s recently finalized .

The CMS documents say states must list subrecipients that receive subawards as well as vendors or contractors paid by an organization using rural health funding. Although states must report how much money these downstream recipients receive, they don’t have to describe which specific services or products the recipient is providing.

DIY Dashboards

As groups ask CMS to share more information, some states have created their own rural health spending dashboards or recipient lists, with varying levels of detail.

Alaska, , and other states list which organizations receive funding, their award amounts, and detailed descriptions of how recipients will spend the money.

and , however, are among the states that don’t share what awardees plan to do with their funding.

New Hampshire is that detail projects and their budgets on its Rural Health Transformation Program website. Some other states have uploaded contracts and grants on general procurement or award databases, which can be difficult to navigate.

, , and have used press releases to announce awards. But the announcements aren’t posted on their Rural Health Transformation Program websites, which could make it difficult to find this information.

Many states created advisory groups to provide transparency and accountability for their programs. Most committees host public meetings and upload minutes, recordings, or other materials from the discussions.

But the West Virginia Department of Health won’t share what’s discussed in its rural health advisory panel’s closed-door meetings, according to spokesperson Gailyn Markham.

“The panel is intended to serve as an informal forum for discussion and feedback among invited participants and program staff,” Markham said.

South Dakota, North Dakota, and Mississippi are among the states without advisory committees.

In response to public records requests, South Dakota released a nearly completely redacted version of its budget for the rural health program while Mississippi declined to release its budget.

Mississippi’s he vetoed a because it would “create an unnecessary layer of bureaucracy” that would have slowed the award process, which could cause the state to lose out on future funds. Mississippi is “ in all this secrecy,” Bryan, the state lawmaker, told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

Sandalow said it’s important for states to publish the impact of their rural health projects, adding that CMS should share which rural health projects are and aren’t working.

She said national and state health organizations are creating networks and holding conferences to help spread this information. States should “be able to learn from each other, get a sense of lessons learned and best practices, and then be able to pivot their initiatives accordingly,” Sandalow said.

Michael Cannon, who oversees health policy studies at the libertarian Cato Institute, said people should know how their $50 billion in taxes is being spent on the rural health program, and whether state projects are making rural patients healthier.

If investors put that much money into a project, there is “no way” they “would let the recipients of those funds get away with the shoddy approach to transparency and accountability that the states are taking,” he said.

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

The cool, mossy spring lies just across the highway from White Mesa Mill, the nation’s , which produces yellowcake for nuclear power fuel.

For decades, the mill has sparked debate over whether radioactive contamination threatens human health by getting into the water and the air. Concerns run especially deep in the White Mesa Ute Community, where Lehi and about 200 members of his tribe live some 5 miles south of the facility.

State regulators and the company that owns the mill contend that any pollution associated with it is contained. That’s little consolation to nearby tribal members, who — aware of uranium’s deadly legacy across the Colorado Plateau — have raised questions about the potential spread of toxic waste. Many won’t drink the local water, relying on bottled water instead.

Now the tribe’s concerns have taken on new urgency as the U.S. pushes to revive domestic uranium production. A federal law, passed in 2024, by 2028, increasing pressure to develop domestic fuel supplies. President Donald Trump U.S. nuclear energy capacity by 2050. He to prioritize mining on federal lands and fast-track approval of mining projects. The Velvet-Wood uranium mine in Utah, for instance, in 11 days, to the who were given one week to offer input.

Trump’s goal of quadrupling nuclear power capacity will be hard to meet, because it would require constructing more reactors — which are difficult to build and often meet local opposition, said , a senior fellow for climate and energy at the Council on Foreign Relations. But data centers and rising electricity demand have intensified interest in nuclear power as a low-carbon energy source, he said. And are to it.

So the effort to obtain the key ingredient, uranium, is underway.

The White Mesa Mill, built in 1980 near what is now in southeastern Utah, is a focal point of this latest uranium boom — and the tensions between local tribal concerns and national economic interests. Increased demand draws a steady flow of trucks carrying uranium ore to the mill from regional mines, including one near the Grand Canyon where the Havasupai Tribe lives. That ore is trucked through the Navajo Nation. And the mill plans to expand its waste storage, as well.

A former tribal councilmember, Lehi is part of a growing opposition that includes members of the Havasupai and Navajo (Diné) tribes, who are now linked by the uranium trucking routes passing through their lands. The Havasupai and Ute Mountain Ute tribes share concerns that toxic wastewater from uranium mining and milling may move through the ground and poison drinking water for future generations.

A History of Distrust

One spring morning in White Mesa, Yolanda Badback gazed out an open door not far from the highway and watched three uranium trucks drive by.

“There goes another one,” Badback said with a tone of exhaustion. She is a Ute Mountain Ute member and leader of the advocacy group that has been fighting the mill.

The mill receives 10 to 15 trucks each weekday, said Curtis Moore, senior vice president of marketing and corporate development at , which has owned the facility since 2012. The majority pass through White Mesa.

The mill’s business is picking up after a quiet 15 years, Moore said. The White Mesa Mill produced 1 million pounds of yellowcake last year; the company that this year, he said. The mill has also diversified into processing radioactive waste from as far away as and Japan, and received a from the Defense Department to scale up its domestic processing of rare earth elements.

The new rare earths business alone could create 100 permanent jobs, Moore said. About half of the mill’s 105 workers are Indigenous; Moore estimated that no more than two belong to the Ute Mountain Ute Tribe.

“When it comes to tribes in the area, I do very much understand their skepticism of uranium,” Moore said. “They’ve been lied to before.”

A uranium boom driven by the U.S. government from the 1940s through the 1980s, much of it concentrated around the Four Corners area of Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, and Colorado, exposed miners to from lung and other cancers. Federal reviews found that the miners, many of them Navajo (Diné), even after government scientists understood the dangers. Mining companies left behind thousands of abandoned waste sites that have leached contamination into surrounding soil and water, including on and near the Navajo Nation.

But Moore said things have changed a lot since the 1950s. He said workers today are exposed to 15% to 20% of allowable radiation limits, and outside the mill it’s “effectively zero.”

Government agencies and Energy Fuels officials have said there’s no evidence that the mill is affecting White Mesa’s drinking water supply, which comes from a deep aquifer protected by a thick rock barrier known as an aquitard.

“It really is the perfect site for a uranium mill,” Moore said.

Scott Clow, environmental programs director of the Ute Mountain Ute Tribe, said that deep aquifer does have quality issues — including arsenic, iron, and manganese — but the public drinking water is filtered and safe to drink.

Adam Wingate, uranium recovery manager at the , said he understands why some residents are concerned. White Mesa is downslope in terms of underground water flow from the uranium mill.

If locals hear about the plume of contamination in a different, shallower aquifer beneath the mill — even if it’s not the source of their drinking water — and their own water tastes funny, “that’s a scary spot to be in,” he said. But based on available evidence, Wingate said, locals’ “health is not at risk because of the mill.”

Even so, Lehi and Badback said that the tap water smells of sulfur and has a milky color, and that people in White Mesa typically don’t drink it.

“I don’t trust it,” said Badback, whose family has been fighting the mill for decades. “My main goal is to shut the mill down.”

An sponsored by Badback’s group has grown over the past decade amid deep distrust rooted in uranium mining’s history. Much of the opposition centers on the mill’s toxic waste, which is stored in five lined pits called tailings cells occupying 284 acres of land.

Badback vows to fight expansion plans that include new tailings cells located about a quarter-mile closer to the White Mesa community than the current ones. Moore said the cells will be triple-lined per modern standards.

“They want to expand south towards my reservation,” Badback said. “That’s the reason why I am standing up and doing whatever I can to stop that from happening.”

Concerns About Air Quality

At a No Kings rally in March in Moab, about 80 miles north of White Mesa, Badback gave a speech and staffed a table offering T-shirts and information.

“No Uranium,” the T-shirts read. “Protect White Mesa Ute Community.”

In 2021, her tribe stating that the White Mesa Mill “has had severe health impacts on the residents of White Mesa and should cease entirely.”

While their psychological stress is palpable, other health effects have been hard to prove.

A 2023 concluded that radiation levels measured at the tribe’s air monitor in the center of White Mesa from 2013 to 2019 were unlikely to harm human health. But the authors said they could not evaluate whether the mill’s radon emissions could affect bordering properties or residents. They recommended that the tribe collect air samples closer to the mill, during times of heightened mill activity.

In December 2021, the Environmental Protection Agency found the mill was violating the Clean Air Act by failing to cover one of its tailings cells with liquid to limit emissions of radon, a known cause of lung cancer. The EPA called the violation “egregious in nature and duration” and temporarily barred the mill from receiving waste from Superfund cleanup sites.

The mill corrected the problem, according to state regulators, and passed its latest in 2025.

Still, some White Mesa residents remain uneasy. Badback and Lehi complained of odors, which they attribute to the mill, that smell like chemicals or rotten eggs. She has raised concerns about air quality and rates of cancer and asthma, which are being explored by a University of Utah health survey.

Moore denied that any odors from the mill could be smelled beyond the mill parking lot.

Utah air quality officials said the state does not conduct ambient air monitoring in White Mesa and does not regulate odors.

Watching the Water

That spring day, Lehi continued to look for Entrance Spring. On the horizon lay the silhouette of Sleeping Ute Mountain, a landmark of the Ute Mountain Ute Tribe, said to be the body of a great warrior god.

Along the way, Lehi pointed out a circle of stones that he thought looked like an ancestral burial site. After parking the Jeep, he walked down a faint trail through a lush grove of willows and found his way into a streambed that he reckoned would lead to the spring.

The tribe doesn’t rely on the spring for drinking water. But it’s one of the seeps and springs that the tribe, the state, and the company monitor, because they offer clues to whether the mill’s waste ponds are leaking into a less protected aquifer.

In the late 2000s, an found elevated contamination by radionuclides — atoms that emit radiation as they decay — at Entrance Spring. EPA water samples found that uranium concentrations at times exceeded the federal drinking water standard. EPA and U.S. Geological Survey fieldwork suggested the uranium at Entrance Spring came not from leaking waste ponds but from dust that blew off the mill’s ore storage pads.

The from 2025 showed Entrance Spring had uranium levels at 22.5 micrograms per liter (µg/L) — within the federal drinking standard of 30 µg/L but still elevated.

Clow said the tribe continues to keep a close eye on the seeps and springs.

“We’re concerned about the pollution of those springs,” he said. “We are looking towards many generations in the future here.”

Clow is also closely watching the Burro Canyon Aquifer, which lies beneath the mill’s toxic waste cells and feeds the local springs. A plume of chloroform and another of nitrates already pollute the aquifer, said Wingate, with the state. He said Energy Fuels is pumping out the contamination.

When contaminants increase, it’s hard to prove whether they stemmed from natural causes or mill activity, since substances such as sulfate and manganese occur naturally in the local bedrock. So Clow, the company, and state officials continually debate whether the tailings ponds are leaking. What’s not in dispute is that the mill produces radioactive waste — and once that exists, it can linger for tens of thousands of years.

Lehi followed the stream to where it ends in a curved grotto — the site of Entrance Spring. Water oozed from a rock face into a pool, offering cool relief from the desert. Lehi looked around with wonder at the dripping green moss. A descendant of medicine men, Lehi said he feels a duty to protect the landscape as his ancestors did, even if the tribe doesn’t currently use this spring for drinking water.

 “Water is life,” Lehi said, “because that’s where we all began.”

This article was supported by , an independent journalism initiative based at the University of Colorado-Boulder’s Center for Environmental Journalism.

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

When making the appointment, Zordani said, he’d been told the clinic was in his insurer’s network. Upon arrival, Zordani was summoned to the clinic’s financial office and told he had to make a $5,000 preservice deposit, because Mayo had since determined it did not accept his insurance. He was automatically designated “self-pay,” even though his plan had out-of-network benefits.

Not having that kind of cash on hand — and angry on principle — he refused. His appointment was canceled.

“I was so livid,” Zordani said, recalling that day in early April 2024. He later learned that Mayo had sent a message to him in his insurance carrier’s patient portal shortly before his visit with an estimate of the cost: $565, not the larger amount it later demanded.

Traditionally, patients usually receive bills for their share only after getting treatment. But what Zordani faced is becoming increasingly common — hospitals or other medical providers seeking prepayments.

“We regret that this individual’s experience did not meet the high standard of communication we strive to provide when helping our patients understand their insurance coverage and financial responsibility,” Andrea Kalmanovitz, Mayo’s communications director, said in an emailed statement. “When prospective patients don’t have clarity that Mayo Clinic is not in-network with their health plan, unexpected pre-service deposit requests may result.”

says it requires prepayments in a variety of cases, including for “noncontracted” — also known as out-of-network — insurance plans.

The trend of hospitals asking for money up front represents a double whammy for patients.

Medical providers are collecting larger shares of what patients might owe at a time when rising deductibles mean patients are owing more for care. The preservice charge could be all or part of a remaining deductible, for example, or a sizable percentage of what the visit or treatment might cost. Those deductibles go up when hospital prices, drug costs, and labor expenses increase, as insurers try to slow premium growth by shifting more costs to patients.

People are “basically being asked to self-insure,” said Richard Gundling, a senior vice president at the Healthcare Financial Management Association, an organization for finance professionals.

As that happens, hospitals figure more patients will have trouble meeting those deductibles, so they want to get as much up front as possible.

“Things like preservice deposits and those kinds of moves are probably going to become more and more likely,” said Chip Kahn, a visiting senior fellow at KFF and the American Enterprise Institute and former president and CEO of the Federation of American Hospitals. “That will make it harder on the provider, the clinician, and harder on the patients.”

The deposits can’t be viewed in isolation, Gundling said: It’s a bigger issue than just hospitals asking for money up front. The challenge, he said, is: “How do we maintain access to care when more patients can’t absorb the level of out-of-pocket costs?”

Already, consumers are increasingly worried about paying for healthcare. A recent found that lower out-of-pocket costs ranked as the top change insured adults would like to see from their coverage plans. KFF is a health information nonprofit that includes ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

The average deductible in family coverage offered by employers is $3,762 per person, , while the average deductible in Affordable Care Act plans to a similar amount, $3,786.

A Consumer Concern

, a health insurance consumer assistance program in New York state, hears from people who are concerned about prepayments, said Diane Spicer, a supervising attorney.

“We see this mostly with insured folks who are seeking out-of-network care but who have out-of-network coverage,” Spicer said, “and also sometimes for care that is not covered.”

Just how many hospitals collect what are often called point-of-service payments is not known, according to Kodiak Solutions, a technology company that provides services to health systems to help manage their revenue.

“But it is becoming more and more the center of many of our conversations with health systems,” said , a vice president leading Kodiak’s revenue cycle intelligence team.

In addition to Mayo, Baltimore-based says that “it is our policy to collect all amounts owed before services are rendered” for non-emergency care. University of Texas-affiliated in Houston, one of the nation’s premier cancer treatment centers, says patients who pay for their own care “will be asked to pay an initial deposit determined by the care center, based on the type of cancer.”

On average, hospitals collect about a quarter of what they expect the patient will owe, Szaflarski said, based on what they estimate the insurer will pay — a percentage that has grown in recent years.

For example, if a person is coming in for imaging and the insurer will reimburse $1,000 for that scan, the hospital will seek $250 from the patient up front, he said. “That used to be closer to $150.”

It also varies by hospital, and sometimes by state.

“The state of Indiana has some of the lowest cash collections in the country. They are Midwest nice,” Szaflarski said. He added that California and Texas are among those that collect more.

Even as hospitals increasingly collect more upfront payments, however, their uncollected debt is also rising, according to data Kodiak collected from more than 2,300 hospitals nationwide.

said that’s because of a “fundamental shift” in coverage as plans “increasingly feature higher deductibles, greater coinsurance, and more complex cost-sharing structures: all elements that increase the nominal patient responsibility without improving—and often reducing—the probability of collection.”

While many hospitals are doing fine, some, especially in rural areas, have thin margins — and things could soon tighten further as cuts to ACA and Medicaid funding lead to more people being uninsured.

As a result, hospitals “have to be concerned” about every cost-sharing dollar, Kahn said.

After Zordani returned to Denver, he said, it took a while to find another specialist. He eventually had a procedure in late June 2024, at a Denver hospital not affiliated with Mayo, to fix a .

The following fall, he filed a in Arizona civil court. He was awarded $47,500 in economic damages and attorney fees after an arbitrator in September 2025 determined Mayo violated a state consumer fraud law because it failed to reach him to say that his plan was not in-network before he traveled. Mayo’s statement to ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ did not include any reference to the settlement.

“Had they notified me in timely fashion as required, I would not have flown there,” Zordani said. He’s still angry that the clinic didn’t ask his permission before designating his care as self-pay, which meant he wasn’t going to use his insurance, and he’s still unclear on how they calculated the $5,000 preservice amount.

When Do Consumers Have to Make Preservice Payments?

There is one clear rule: In emergency situations, hospitals that accept federal Medicare financing cannot, , demand upfront payment before stabilizing a patient who arrives at an ER, said , a senior fellow and health policy researcher at the Brookings Institution.

Other consumer protections are less clear.

Patients who get in-network care may have some recourse in their contracts with their insurers, so they should check the fine print, experts told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

“In out-of-network settings, I’m not aware of any barriers that would prevent a provider from doing this,” Fiedler said of preservice deposits.

How those amounts are calculated also appears widely up to the provider and can be opaque.

“They could just say $1,500 and you’d be like, ‘Oh, is that 10%, or is that how much is left on my deductible?’” said , senior director of healthcare campaigns at PIRG, a national federation of independent consumer advocacy groups.

Yet, she added, the patient might be scheduling three months in advance, so the provider wouldn’t know how much was left on the deductible. She recommends consumers ask for an itemized bill and call their insurer to find out whether it has rules regarding the charges.

Also unclear are how and when patients get their money back if they overpay.

Overpayments can happen if patients don’t require the services originally estimated or when insurers pay other bills first, such as the anesthesiology cost or a surgeon’s fees. If those payments are counted toward a patient’s deductible, yet the patient had already made a prepayment to the hospital for the expected deductible, to the hospital.

How soon they get their money back can vary and can depend on state laws, though a small number of states directly address the issue. As of this year, medical providers to reimburse patients within 30 days of a determination of an overpayment. Some states, including Maryland, prohibit certain hospitals from requiring prepayment simply to avoid offering financial assistance.

After alleging that some patients had to wait more than a year to get reimbursed, Arizona Attorney General Kris Mayes recently under state consumer protection laws against SimonMed Imaging, which has 170 locations in 10 states.

, SimonMed agreed to issue refunds within an average of 60 days.

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

Health secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. that AI nurses can provide “concierge care” to rural patients. Mehmet Oz, who leads the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, “the best way to help some of these communities is going to be AI-based avatars” that connect rural patients to mental health services.

And many state health leaders agree. They are using some of their funding from the $50 billion federal Rural Health Transformation Program to expand AI among rural health organizations.

AI is computer technology that performs tasks that typically rely on human intelligence by finding patterns or generating words. It has the potential to improve the healthcare system by automating back-office work or identifying patients at risk, but several reports contend there’s little evidence AI can improve access to care and patient health in rural areas. It’s unclear how well states will track and share outcomes of the tech they invest in.

Meanwhile, some rural Americans are skeptical, according to interviews with people in Hot Springs, South Dakota, a city of about 3,400 residents at the southern end of the Black Hills.

“I get artificial intelligence for certain things, but for personal healthcare — no,” Tara Haffner said while standing outside the American Legion.

Haffner said she’s worried about AI making mistakes and wants healthcare to stay between her and her doctor.

But Phillip Mues, who oversees technology at Cherry County Hospital and Clinic in rural Valentine, Nebraska, said AI is already helping clinicians save time, reduce burnout, and focus more on patient care.

“I think it will help reduce burden on actual staffing,” he said. “It won’t replace people, but I think it will help in rural communities.”

Still, Mues said, AI can’t fix every challenge. Rural hospitals at risk of closing or ending certain services probably can’t use AI to save enough money to prevent those consequences, he said.

Congressional Republicans created the five-year Rural Health Transformation Program last summer as a last-minute sweetener to President Donald Trump’s signature One Big Beautiful Bill Act. The funding was intended to offset concerns about the anticipated in rural communities from the law, which is by more than $900 billion over a decade.

The Word on the Street

Hot Springs, which has a 25-bed independent hospital and a Department of Veterans Affairs hospital, is known for its sandstone buildings, veterans’ services, and, yes, hot springs. Residents must drive at least an hour for more advanced care.

Six people interviewed there by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ said the biggest problem in rural healthcare is the cost or long wait times caused by staffing shortages.

Doug Nikkila, a heavy equipment operator, said AI and other technology come with benefits and risks.

“If it’s not utilized correctly, it becomes a burden,” he said.

Nikkila, who’s concerned about nursing home residents being neglected amid staffing shortages, said he thinks AI should send reminders to staff when their residents are due for diaper changes or other care. He also wondered whether AI-powered video monitors could send alerts when they detect falls or illness symptoms.

The healthcare industry is rapidly adopting AI despite the tools being “poorly evaluated,” according to a , a Stanford- and Harvard-led group that evaluates health-related AI. The report says that while some AI has been successful in controlled settings, there’s less evidence it can perform in the real world. It also said few studies track patient outcomes.

Evidence is especially lacking in rural areas. A found that only 26 peer-reviewed studies about AI in rural healthcare were published from 2010 through April 29, 2025. Few analyzed implementation or outcomes.

Despite the dearth of results, some states appear interested in bold experiments — such as using AI to suggest diagnoses or recommend treatments. Utah officials said in their application to the rural health program that they are interested in funding a in AI-powered prescription refill requests.

Even tools proven to work in urban settings may not work in rural ones, said Qian Huang, an assistant professor at the Center for Rural Health and Research at East Tennessee State University.

She said the technology is usually tested at large, academic hospitals and trained on data from urban patients, who may not have the same health issues and obstacles — such as a lack of transportation — as rural patients.

A ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ review of states’ plans for the Rural Health Transformation Program shows they’re interested in using AI to automate time-consuming, behind-the-scenes tasks, such as medical charting, coding, referrals, and prior authorization requests. Some states also mentioned ways AI can save money, such as Washington, which discussed tools that “identify and recover” money it’s owed.

Mues said the Valentine clinic has been using AI scribes that record appointments and generate notes describing the visit. He said surveys of clinicians before and after they started using the technology show the scribes have helped reduce burnout by letting providers focus on patient care with “eye contact on the patient, not the computer.”

States also mentioned funding AI that directly affects patient care, such as tools that recommend possible diagnoses and treatment options to clinicians. Mississippi wants to use predictive AI algorithms to “guide” emergency medics with “triage, routing, and treatment decisions.”

Several states want to use AI to analyze patients’ medical charts and remote monitoring devices to identify immediate or future health risks. North Dakota’s plans mention AI to “detect early signs of chronic disease and behavioral health conditions,” while New Hampshire’s discusses AI that identifies patients “at high risk of adverse drug events.”

Some states plan to give patients access to chatbots or wearable devices that transmit data to their clinicians. Utah is interested in funding AI-powered fetal-monitoring devices, while Kentucky will explore using AI chatbots to “deliver personalized nudges and education” through “health coaching, gamified incentives, and rewards.”

Whether the technology appeals to consumers is another matter. Hot Springs resident Stephanie Keller wears a smartwatch to track her fitness but has no interest in an AI chatbot using her data to encourage her to reach her health goals.

“I don’t have the time to chat with AI every day. I mean, are you kidding me? I don’t want to spend my time on a cellphone,” she said.

Rural health facilities also face challenges in implementing AI.

Huang, who has AI in rural healthcare, said rural hospitals and clinics may not have the hardware or IT staff needed to support the technology. She said clinicians and staff may already be doing three jobs at once and not have time to go through AI training.

Rural health facilities may not have fast-enough internet to use AI, while patients may have slow connections at home — if they have internet at all — or may not feel comfortable using AI, Huang said.

“In rural communities, trust and a personal relationship is essential,” she said.

Roy Ehlers, a Hot Springs resident, said he doesn’t trust AI in healthcare, or anywhere else.

“I’m old-fashioned. I don’t believe in it. Technology is not my forte,” Ehlers said.

Mues said that while some rural patients are “scared of AI,” most have let their clinicians at the Valentine facility use the scribing technology to record patients’ visits.

Will States Share AI Results?

Despite questions about implementation, the boom is on. Jordan Everson, an assistant professor at the Georgetown University Department of Family Medicine, said both urban and rural health facilities are rushing to use AI.

“The risk of signing contracts that rural healthcare organizations come to regret is pretty high,” said Everson, who previously worked in the information technology office at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

Several states are addressing that risk by using their rural health funding to create groups that will help rural health facilities vet, select, or monitor AI tools while offering training, ongoing assistance, or funding for upfront costs.

CMS spokesperson Timothy Foster said the agency doesn’t have any AI-specific reporting requirements but is working on a form for states to report their overall progress and outcomes.

Abraham Pritzker, who works at Julota, a company that helps health organizations track data, said states should measure more than how often AI programs are used.

For example, states can measure whether the tech reduces falls, 911 calls, or hospital admissions, said Pritzker, a former paramedic. Huang said it’s also important to ask clinicians and patients about their experiences using AI.

Yet many states’ applications to the rural health program mention tracking only AI adoption metrics, not what happens after facilities deploy the tech. Some of these states may add further reporting requirements down the road.

Vermont spokespeople did not respond when asked why their state’s requires organizations to report only how many clinicians and patients are served by the tech, not how much time they save.

States requiring recipients to report outcomes include , which will track how often AI-powered patient monitoring devices trigger accurate alerts. organizations to track cost savings, while Wisconsin lists “patient outcomes” and “productivity and efficiencies” as possible metrics.

Huang said that after collecting results, states need to share them so other states and healthcare organizations can learn from their experiences.

“We do not have a lot of resources to waste on tools that don’t work in rural areas,” she said.

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

While knee replacement procedures have become standard, however, the prices charged have not.

At Catawba Valley Medical Center in Hickory, North Carolina, for example, the cost of the procedure under a Blue Cross Blue Shield health plan this year was about $16,000, according to data from Serif Health, a San Francisco startup that collects recently released data from hospitals and insurers. Little more than an hour’s drive west, however, at Mission Hospital in Asheville, the cost of the procedure under the same health plan was around $40,000, or more than double, the data showed.

Formed by the merger of the two largest hospitals in the region, Mission has little competition and more power to demand the higher price.

This comparison between these two hospitals illuminates how large hospital systems created by a in recent decades can dominate the competition and push up healthcare costs.

While many factors affect the price of a medical procedure, hospitals with few competitors can charge more, health economists say.

The hospital price hikes mean patients and their insurers must pay more for an episode of healthcare. But there is an important side effect, too, even for people who don’t require medical care. When insurers face higher hospital prices, they pass the costs on and raise the prices they charge for everyone’s health insurance.

Using Serif Health’s pricing data, it is possible to see how mergers like the one that created Mission Hospital influence costs. For years, it was difficult to determine how much hospital monopolies boosted charges. But since 2021, the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services to disclose prices, making it possible to gather comprehensive data such as Serif Health’s.

The connection between market power and prices exists across the country. In Melbourne, Florida, Holmes Regional Medical Center is part of a health system, Health First, that dominates surrounding Brevard County. The center has charged Cigna two times what a hospital two hours north did for a knee replacement this year, the Serif Health data shows.

Banner North Colorado Medical Center, which ranks as the leading healthcare provider in Weld County, Colorado, charged a UnitedHealthcare patient $20,000 more for the surgery in Greeley than a health system an hour’s drive south in Denver, according to Serif’s figures.

The American Hospital Association that hospital mergers can improve quality and reduce healthcare costs by creating “a fiscally sustainable environment.” A Mission Hospital spokesperson said comparing hospitals’ prices was unfair or misleading because their practices and constraints vary so much.

For years, economists suspected that the run of mergers beginning in the late 1990s was a main driver of the rising costs of U.S. healthcare. From 2002 to 2020 alone, unfolded in the United States.

But until the recent federal disclosure rule, the effect of healthcare monopolies on pricing was often overlooked or harder to detect. Hospitals do not advertise their prices, and even when they are revealed on a bill, patients scarcely notice the bottom line because they don’t pay most of it — their insurers do.

“What the data shows pretty clearly is that when hospitals have bargaining leverage, they tend to have higher prices,” said Zack Cooper, an associate professor of public health and economics at Yale University who has spent more than a decade studying hospital monopolies.

Over the last quarter century, Cooper said, hospital prices have risen faster than those for any other economic sector, and “hospital consolidation is one of the primary drivers.”

Federal and state officials have wavered over when to intervene when hospitals are proposing to merge. Last summer, former President Joe Biden’s that urged federal agencies to challenge mergers that could harm consumers, reversing course from Biden’s more aggressive enforcement of antitrust law. In a , however, Federal Trade Commission Chairman Andrew Ferguson called for a task force on healthcare mergers that are leading to “higher prices” and “decreased quality” of care.

Several states have sought to curb healthcare monopolies. In 2023, Minnesota banning anticompetitive healthcare mergers and bolstering state oversight. In 2022, requiring healthcare businesses to give the state a 90-day notice of large mergers and to investigate their effects on competition. And in 2021 enabling the state health department to block acquisitions and mergers of hospitals.

Nothing has stopped the overall trend, however, as hospitals seek to grow and gain leverage over insurers and competitors. Last year alone, hospital and health systems announced 46 mergers and acquisitions, , a healthcare business consulting firm. Five ranked as “mega-mergers,” meaning they were valued at more than $1 billion. One across Connecticut and New York into a powerful interstate health system. Another linked , a deal that created a 56-hospital system across the Midwest — including Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Wyoming — with combined revenue of about $10 billion.

Other mergers have been proposed in , , and Minnesota.

Asheville’s Dominant Hospital

Few places in the United States better exemplify how hospital mergers reshape healthcare than Asheville.

In 1998, the state authorized a deal that joined the city’s two acute-care hospitals, St. Joseph’s Hospital and Memorial Mission Medical Center, . Ever since, its effects have been studied and its prices fiercely contested.

Marcelle Crago, a nurse and lactation consultant, is one of many patients who have accused Mission Health, which operates Mission Hospital, of gouging consumers. Last year, she tweaked her knee while cross-country skiing.

“My knee went ‘pop, pop, pop,’” she recalled. She had torn her meniscus, the rubbery cartilage around the knee that acts as a shock absorber. A doctor advised her to have a portion of it removed.

Two days before the surgery, Mission Health told her the total charge would be over $9,000, according to paperwork on her case filed with the state’s Consumer Protection Division.

“I was shocked at the number,” she said.

Crago’s insurance policy from UnitedHealth Group had a high deductible, so she would have had to pay most of the cost. She decided to postpone the surgery and shop around, eventually arranging to have it done at an outpatient center not affiliated with Mission. There, the bill came to less than a third of the price Mission Health charged, according to paperwork she kept.

“The way Mission Health handled the whole thing felt predatory,” Crago recalled, noting that when she balked at the $9,000 figure, the hospital offered a 20% discount if she paid up-front. “It makes you wonder how much they are playing with prices.”

In responding to Crago’s complaint with the state, an attorney for Mission and HCA Healthcare, which owns the hospital, wrote that hospital charges “represent the cost for supporting the entire episode of care” and must cover the hospital’s investments in advanced technology, training, staff, and other critical needs.

“Patients are certainly entitled to ‘shop around’ for surgical procedures,” wrote the attorney, Phillip Jackson.

It is not just patients who bear the burden of rising hospital prices.

Over time, anyone who pays for health insurance pays a price for hospital monopolies, as insurers boost premiums as medical costs rise. The full cost for an employer to pay for an average family health insurance plan rose to more than $27,000 in 2025, up from $21,000 just six years ago, according to .

Around Asheville, employers and employees complain that their insurance premiums are higher because Mission’s prices are so high.

As the chef and co-founder of Cúrate restaurant in Asheville, a business with about 100 employees, Katie Button provides employee health coverage and believes she has been paying for Mission Hospital’s excessive prices, according to a pending class-action lawsuit she filed in 2021 with five residents who say the monopoly has harmed them.

Any insurance plan in Asheville must include Mission Hospital, she said, because it is the only one around. This makes the burden of its prices unavoidable.

“We are where we are because we don’t have a choice of hospitals,” Button said. “There is no other option.”

The steady creep of healthcare costs is top of mind not just in Asheville but for most U.S. voters, according to . Nearly two-thirds of U.S. adults were worried about being able to afford healthcare, the poll found.

Yet while federal law allows regulators to step in and block mergers deemed to create monopolies, the FTC intervened in only from 2002 to 2020 to stop a hospital merger, according to a Yale University study. The FTC has since announced challenges to five other hospital mergers.

Birth of a Monopoly

When Mission Health was formed by a merger in 1998, state officials recognized that Asheville’s new dominant hospital system would have the power to raise prices and required Mission to sign an agreement to limit spending and profit margins.

Even with these restrictions, the hospital , according to economic research cited by the FTC. But Mission’s prices were about to go up even more. In 2015, Mission Health lobbied the state legislature to drop the state restrictions, abandoning the profit limits.

“After 20 years of the hospital behaving itself, the state decided to terminate its oversight,” said Mark Hall, a professor emeritus at Wake Forest University who of the hospital’s merger history. Then, three years later, HCA, the largest hospital corporation in the country, bought Mission Health. (The Dogwood Health Trust, a nonprofit established as part of HCA’s purchase of Mission Health, helps fund ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ coverage.)

“This put a prepackaged monopoly into the hands of the world’s largest for-profit hospital corporation,” Hall said.

Across a range of services, Mission Hospital charges more than other North Carolina hospitals, according to figures from Serif Health.

Consider the prices that Mission negotiated with UnitedHealthcare compared with those the insurer pays at Catawba Valley Medical Center. For a breast biopsy, UnitedHealth pays $7,500 at Mission and $1,700 at Catawba, according to Serif. For a hernia repair, it pays $17,700 at Mission and $9,600 at Catawba.

“The prices hospitals charge are one of the leading drivers of rising healthcare costs,” according to a UnitedHealthcare statement sent by spokesperson Cole Manbeck.

Mission spokesperson Katie Czerwinski, in a statement, said that it can be misleading to compare one hospital with another.

Mission Hospital is almost three times as large as Catawba Valley Health and is a Level 1 trauma center serving a different population, Czerwinski said. She also said that pulling individual rates for comparison paints an incomplete picture.

But other figures indicate that prices at Mission Hospital are relatively high, even when viewed collectively.

A team at the think tank Rand, led by Christopher Whaley, now a Brown University health economist, uses commercial insurance records to compare average hospital prices across the U.S. relative to those paid by Medicare. , Mission Hospital in 2024 charged prices that were 334% of prices set by Medicare. Catawba Valley Medical Center charged 237%. The state benchmark for prices is 280% of Medicare, Rand figures showed.

“The prices we pay for healthcare vary tremendously and are uncorrelated to the value we receive,” according to the Rand website.

For many in Asheville, the primary complaints about Mission Hospital focus on the quality of patient care. This is consistent with showing that the quality of care declines when hospitals have little competition.

Amid rising complaints about hospital services, North Carolina state Sen. Julie Mayfield, a Democrat, helped launch a nonprofit organization two years ago called Reclaim Healthcare WNC to hold Mission “accountable for its harmful practices.”

“Within a year of the HCA sale, I started hearing stories from physicians and other friends about all the terrible things that were happening there,” Mayfield said, most of them caused by severe staff cuts and physicians leaving.

Three times since 2024, state health inspectors working on behalf of CMS have issued “immediate jeopardy” findings to Mission Hospital, indicating problems so severe that they posed an imminent risk of serious injury or death to patients.

In the most , an 88-year-old woman recovering from a fall and hip surgery at Mission Hospital died after going a night without receiving a blood transfusion.

Czerwinski, the Mission Hospital spokesperson, said a proposed plan of correction “allows Mission to address the findings from the survey and complete a comprehensive review of operations.”

As more hospitals across the United States plan to merge, Mayfield said, the experience in Asheville represents a cautionary tale.

“Unregulated monopolies have never gone well for the public.”

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

“They called me a ‘liability to the job site,’” Pugh said, recalling the words of his manager when a seizure cost him his last job at a fast-food restaurant in this western Montana city.

When the 46-year-old lost work in the past, his wife of 10 years covered their rent and he tended to their home until he found another job. But his wife died last year. Soon after, Pugh became homeless. His problem with alcohol became worse, which made managing his seizures more difficult.

“When she died, my whole base was depleted,” Pugh said.

Medicaid pays for the prescriptions that keep Pugh’s seizures at bay. The government-subsidized health coverage would also pay for an addiction treatment program that Pugh said he has tried to get into, but he was told there’s a waitlist.

Pugh’s goal has been to get healthy enough to work again. But he’s worried about being able to keep the Medicaid coverage he needs to get to that point.

Early Embrace of New Rules

In the spring, the federal government finalized regulations requiring millions of people who receive Medicaid benefits to prove they’re working, volunteering, or going to school to keep their coverage. States have until January to begin those checks. Montana, Arkansas, and Nebraska have already started implementing them.

The Trump administration’s federal work requirements exempt certain groups of people: those with disabilities, those older than 64, pregnant people and Native Americans, among others. To receive an exemption, anyone without a clear-cut qualification — such as through their age or disability status — will have to prove they’re too sick to work.

But the administration decided that being homeless isn’t a medical condition and can’t count as an automatic out from having to meet the new requirements. Many conservative policymakers support work requirements, and some states have attempted to implement such rules for years. At least four states — Montana, Arizona, Kentucky, and Utah — previously proposed policies that included homelessness as an exemption.

But federal officials have said that’s not allowed. In an email to ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services declined to provide a comment on the record. But the agency confirmed that states must stick to the federal government’s list of exemptions. Homelessness in the U.S. increased by 27% from 2013 to 2025, from the Department of Housing and Urban Development. Last year, about 746,000 people .

Many, like Pugh, qualified for Medicaid, though the number of enrollees who are homeless is difficult to measure. In 2023, who received medical or behavioral health services through one of the nation’s roughly 300 programs were enrolled in Medicaid.

Jennifer Tolbert, deputy director of KFF’s Program on Medicaid and the Uninsured, said the federal regulations are a lot stricter than many states had expected, even those on board with work requirements. (KFF is a health information nonprofit that includes ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.)

“It took everyone by surprise,” Tolbert said.

Mehmet Oz, who leads CMS, touted the regulations as a “path to prosperity” during a press conference in June.

“We need to get people to try to work,” Oz said. In June, 25 mostly Democratic-led states over the regulations, arguing the medical frailty standard would be too hard for enrollees to meet — and for states to assess. The work requirements are projected to increase the number of uninsured people nationwide by by 2034, according to the Congressional Budget Office.

Most states will begin to implement the Medicaid work requirements in January. 

Montana plans to begin booting Medicaid enrollees from coverage this October if they can’t prove they’re in compliance with the work requirement.

“My Medicaid is still active, but when are they gonna cut that off from me?” Pugh said. “I can’t get employed. How am I supposed to survive?”

The differences between the states’ and federal government’s exemption lists don’t end with people who are homeless. In Montana, lawmakers also planned to excuse people fleeing domestic violence and caregivers of hospitalized family members — two other groups left off the federal exemption list.

“These are simply parties that, due to a number of conditions, cannot meet those requirements,” Republican state Rep. Ed Buttrey said in 2019 when the Montana Legislature passed its first Medicaid work requirement bill. Buttrey did not comment for this article.

Federal officials have said many people who are homeless could fall under another exemption, such as being too sick to work. But, like many states, Montana’s system to automatically conduct those checks through existing medical records isn’t ready, though health department spokesperson Jon Ebelt said it should be in place by October. Anyone not automatically exempted by the state would have 30 days to prove their case.

A Possible Exemption for Health

Pugh might qualify for a pass due to his seizures. But getting to doctor appointments the past year has been hard for him.

The anniversary of his wife’s death just passed. Typically, Pugh has to find a new place to sleep outside each night. One night while camping, Pugh lost his wallet and important documents. And with the addiction treatment centers that accept Medicaid patients overbooked, Pugh has had to rely on willpower to avoid drinking.

“I’m taking it one day at a time,” he said.

A little over two hours north, in Kalispell, Dustin Goss, a case manager at a homeless shelter called Samaritan House, said Pugh’s experience reflects why he’s worried that people who qualify for an exemption will get tangled in bureaucratic tape.

“You can’t really worry about getting paperwork done when you don’t know where you’re eating today,” Goss said.

Cassidy Kipp, who heads Samaritan House, said once people find shelter and start to stabilize, they typically find work. But even then, meeting the new requirements can be challenging. Clients often start with temporary and informal jobs — such as cleaning out a storage unit — that don’t come with a pay stub, Kipp said. 

Kaitlyn Bosshardt, a social worker at Partnership Health Center, a health clinic in Missoula, has seen more people priced out of longtime rentals as housing costs outpace people’s paychecks. Meanwhile, affordable housing and rental aid are limited.

Partnership Health is one of roughly 1,400 health centers nationwide that receive federal funding to serve patients based on what they can afford — meaning even those who lose Medicaid can receive care. But organizations representing health centers have said if too many patients lose the coverage, some clinics won’t be able to fill the financial hole.

The other problem is that these clinics generally don’t provide specialty care.

One day in June, as temperatures hovered around 90,  Pugh visited Watershed Navigation Center, a refuge run by Partnership for people without steady housing to have a meal or see a doctor. His doctor, Atarah Sidey, told Pugh that the neurology clinic that managed his seizures had dismissed him from their care after he missed three appointments.

She referred Pugh to the other neurologist in town and talked about trying to find treatment for his addiction.

“It’s just that if I don’t make the effort at changing, it ain’t gonna happen and I’m gonna end up found on the side of the road somewhere,” Pugh told Sidey.

“You got this, though, Tywon,” she responded as Pugh nodded his head. “You can do this.”

Pugh has connected with a social worker for help keeping his Medicaid. By late July, he was waiting for space to open at a Missoula addiction treatment center and waiting on responses from two job applications.

In the hard moments, Pugh imagines his wife telling him to stay calm, that things will get better.

“I just don’t wanna lose hope in the meantime,” he said.

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

Source: <a href=”; target=_”blank”>Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services</a>

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³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ will update this database as more states respond to emails and public records requests for their documents.

Note: Data collected as of Aug. 18, 2026. ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ reporters searched state websites, requested documents, and filed public records requests. ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ continues to collect documents.

Sources: Documents publicly posted online or released in response to ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ requests; <a href=”; target=_”blank”>Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services</a>

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

The Consumer Product Safety Commission, responsible for tracking and issuing recalls of dangerous products sold in the U.S., began discreetly pressuring hospital executives this year to share personally identifiable health data with a private contractor. But hospital lawyers and other industry experts have questioned the agency’s authority to collect, its ability to safeguard such a swath of sensitive information, and whether it has followed the legal process to overhaul its surveillance system.

After ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ asked the CPSC about the new system, the the program on July 21. Left unmentioned, however, is the alarm it has raised among hospital executives, as well as the nature and extent of the agency’s data demands.

In a stark departure from its product-focused mission, the agency’s goal is to obtain millions of Americans’ medical records from emergency room visits for most injuries, from a broken bone to a childhood vaccine reaction or even a suicide attempt, according to documents and emails obtained by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, as well as interviews with five people involved or familiar with the discussions.

A CPSC official also insisted in the emails that the institutions provide all ER patients’ identifiable information — such as names, addresses, diagnoses, and other personal details — to the contractor, Konza Health, for analysis. In correspondence with , Konza representatives described participation as “mandatory” or “required.”

As a condition of viewing the correspondence, ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ agreed not to republish some of the emails it obtained.

The CPSC wants at least 100 hospitals to start sending detailed medical records by the end of this year, according to an .

“The whole thing is troubling,” said Sharona Hoffman, a professor of health law at Case Western Reserve University who noted that giving a private entity access to a sweeping collection of data will introduce risks to patient privacy. “If this company really is collecting identifiable information, that is worrisome for patients.”

The new project was launched amid upheaval at the traditionally independent agency, which is without a governing board since President Donald Trump fired the CPSC’s three Democratic board members. Nearly 1 in 5 career staffers left the CPSC in the first 16 months of the new administration, according to a ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ analysis of federal workforce data.

The initiative also comes as the Trump administration has sought unprecedented access to millions of Americans’ medical records, with the Office of Personnel Management requesting federal workers’ sensitive health information and Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. using a private organization to collect more medical records for his studies on vaccines and autism.

Steve Roney, CPSC spokesperson, said in an emailed statement on July 10 that the CPSC is “modernizing” its surveillance system. Asked whether the CPSC will file complaints against hospitals that do not participate, he said only that while the previous system “operated as a voluntary program, the ability of hospitals to opt out limited the sample size and usefulness of the data.”

Roney also acknowledged that the agency had not yet notified the public, as “required by law.”

Federal law requires the agency to provide notice and a public comment period before requesting information from 10 or more entities, a step it has not taken despite plans for 100 hospitals to join the surveillance system. ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ independently confirmed with over a dozen hospitals that they had been approached.

Federal public health authorities that private health data be reported. But CPSC officials have that if hospitals decline to share data with the new surveillance system, they could be subject to strict penalties from a data-sharing regulation known as “information blocking.”

Yet some hospital executives say they are reluctant to share patients’ sensitive data because they’re concerned about a different violation — that of .

AI Takes Over

Dozens of ERs across the country already participate in the CPSC’s voluntary National Electronic Injury Surveillance System, or NEISS, through which trained hospital workers report injuries involving consumer products, almost always stripped of patients’ identifiable information. The system helps the CPSC identify products, such as baby loungers, toys, and household appliances, with a pattern of injuring consumers.

The new injury surveillance program goes much further.

At a toy industry trade event in February, acting CPSC Chairman Peter Feldman said the agency is “investing in AI-enabled workflows that improve the quality and quantity of injury surveillance data, while also building up digital infrastructure to handle a massive new volume of electronic health records.”

Konza Health, a Kansas-based organization that runs the state’s health data exchange, will automatically pull and analyze medical records of all patient visits from ERs nationwide. Konza won a worth up to $15.9 million with the CPSC last fall.

In email correspondence with hospital technology officials, Konza Health President and CEO Laura McCrary also has described ERs’ participation as “required,” stipulating that they share patients’ records with identifying information.

McCrary told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ by email that the company is not using AI to process the records it receives, saying instead that Konza will use “advanced analytic parsing and filtering capabilities.” Roney, the CPSC spokesperson, did not answer questions about the .

For years, agency officials moving away from human contractors and automating NEISS to save time and money.

But without workers on-site, hospital staffers may no longer receive training to determine what clinical information is important to include for the CPSC. In short, the changes could dilute the quality of the product safety data the agency collects.

“They want to suck in as much data as possible, but I’m not sure how thoughtful they’re being about what is collected and what is actually needed by the agency,” said former CPSC chair Alexander Hoehn-Saric, one of the Democratic appointees Trump fired last year.

Record Number of Career Staff Left CPSC Last Year

The Consumer Product Safety Commission overhauled its National Electronic Injury Surveillance System on the heels of its largest exodus of career employees in at least a decade.

Source: <a href=” of Personnel Management</a>

Wanted: Injuries From Vaccines and Stingrays

The CPSC’s new data collection appears to contradict its own 214-page , which instructs hospitals not to include identifiable information “such as names, birthdates, or addresses” when reporting cases.

The agency is supposed to receive patients’ identifying information only when needed for follow-up investigations, which happens in fewer than 1% of reported cases, according to the manual.

The CPSC has also historically limited the records it collects to minimize privacy violations in case of a data breach.

The risk is not hypothetical: From 2017 to 2019, the agency improperly released personal health information of around 30,000 people, a disclosure that a top Republican at the time

Konza, however, will receive even more sensitive information on many more people. McCrary said in a statement that Konza will remove patients’ names, addresses, and medical information “not needed by CPSC” before sharing records with the agency.

Leaving a private organization to collect sensitive information introduces risks, including that it could be stolen or used for business purposes, said Hoffman, the Case Western professor.

“Very often, they will use information for marketing because now they’re going to know what conditions people have,” she said.

Roney said that its contract with Konza, which has not been made public, prohibits the organization from selling or marketing the data it collects.

The CPSC’s manual also identifies types of ER visits that should not be reported to the CPSC, which has jurisdiction over only certain consumer products. Excluded injuries are those caused by food, illegal drugs, medical devices, alcohol, or plants, as well as injuries that did not involve consumer products — such as a cut from a rock or broken bones from a fall on the ground — and suicide attempts by adults.

But in a to one hospital and reviewed by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, Konza set no such limits on the information it would gather from ER records and said it would hold on to patient health information for at least 30 days.

In an email sent to hospital technology officials, McCrary wrote that Konza would provide the CPSC with records when a patient is treated in the ER for any of more than 10,000 conditions. The expansive list of diagnostic codes Konza provided in the email includes injuries that do not involve consumer products.

Child injuries resulting from “poisoning by” vaccines or contact with stingrays, neither of which is regulated by the CPSC, are included in the list.

A limited number of hospitals once shared deidentified data on all injuries — regardless of product involvement — through the NEISS using the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s injury-tracking program. But the CDC halted that data collection, after funding and staffing were cut last year, and has not restarted it.

Pressure on Hospitals

CPSC Chief Data Officer Elizabeth Puchek, who joined the agency late last year after engineering U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services’ data system, has told hospitals in emails that they must seek an exemption from the program if they decline to share patients’ emergency room records with Konza.

The CPSC’s targeted outreach has included some of the nation’s largest urban and rural health systems, as well as small, publicly owned hospitals.

Staff members at Mary Greeley Medical Center in Ames, Iowa, said that Konza and federal officials told them their participation in the new program was mandatory. The hospital, which has long participated in NEISS, signed a new contract in April to share its ER records with Konza.

Yet the hospital is reevaluating its participation after being notified that the funds it received to participate in NEISS were “no longer available,” spokesperson Steve Sullivan said.

Several hospital executives, lawyers, and others have raised doubts about the CPSC’s claimed authority.

Harborview Medical Center spokesperson Susan Gregg said the Seattle hospital’s emergency room has “voluntarily submitted de-identified data for many years, but we are not obligated to report this information.”

In Boston, Mass General Brigham has declined to participate in the new program, with spokesperson Kelly Mitchell saying that “to protect patient privacy, we are unable to provide these medical records.”

Henry Ford Health in Detroit; St. Luke’s in Boise, Idaho; and Sanford Health based in Sioux Falls, South Dakota — which together handle over a million ER visits a year — are among the health systems that have been approached but not yet entered into an agreement with Konza, according to representatives. Several of the nation’s busiest hospital systems targeted for the program — including the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota, Yale New Haven Hospital in Connecticut, Nationwide Children’s Hospital and the Cleveland Clinic in Ohio, and Baylor Scott & White Health in Texas — declined to answer questions about whether they’re participating.

Hoehn-Saric, the agency’s former chairman, said he was surprised that the CPSC would insist that hospitals provide identifiable records from all emergency room visits.

“This idea that they can simply demand patient information from a hospital and that the hospital would provide it — I really don’t understand the basis for that,” he said.

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

For the first time in a quarter century, the U.S. no longer meets a main criterion for having eliminated measles as a public health threat. That status hinges on sporadic outbreaks fizzling out within a year. Utah’s outbreak has lasted for longer, since .

Nearly 400 people have been hospitalized with measles in the U.S. this year and last, three people have died, and at least three suffered with .

This month, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is set to finalize a comprehensive study of the nation’s measles situation, examining data from January 2025 through June 2026.

“I don’t think we could say with a straight face that there hasn’t been transmission over the past 12 months,” said a CDC scientist with knowledge of the agency’s measles report. (³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ agreed not to name the researcher, who is concerned about retaliation.) The researcher said a national committee of measles specialists will review the CDC’s internal report, which then goes to the Pan American Health Organization, a group that evaluates the measles elimination status of countries throughout North, South, and Central America and the Caribbean.

PAHO will make at an annual meeting this fall, but scientists say the writing is on the wall. “The assessment for elimination isn’t until November, but that is a scheduling issue, basically,” said Anne Schuchat, who led the CDC’s immunization and respiratory disease group from 2006 to 2015.

“It’s just so sad, because some people will get brutally ill,” she said of measles’ return. “This is a wake-up call.”

Pediatricians in Utah have been on the front lines as measles and other vaccine-preventable ailments have returned to the U.S. In interviews with ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, six doctors shared insights on this new era of vaccine hesitancy — and what could be done to turn the situation around.

The conversations have been edited for clarity.

On Unvaccinated Children Hospitalized With Measles Complications

Emilie Morris, a hospital pediatrician in Salt Lake County and Utah County: When children come in, they’re often bent over. We call it tripoding, which is particular to upper respiratory infections and airway swelling. They have a rash — viruses cause rashes all the time — but in this context, the kid is hunched over, mouth open, drooling, crying, maybe not even producing tears, because they’re so dehydrated. Really labored breathing, kind of tugging in their belly, tugging between their ribs. Their eyes look kind of glazed over. It’s like they’re seeing through you.

Nathan Money, a hospital pediatrician in Salt Lake County and Utah County: If the child has a fever or trouble breathing, and they’re unvaccinated, I have to be way more aggressive from a medical standpoint, because they are at higher risk of having life-threatening illnesses. I have to do more blood work, or lumbar punctures to rule out meningitis. I have to do things which are painful, and it’s traumatic for the families.

I tell them, “Because your child doesn’t have vaccines, I have to be more worried about conditions like sepsis or meningitis, so therefore I need to do more workup.” The last thing I want to do is miss something. These are parents who love their children. They always tell me, “Do what you need to do to make sure my child is safe.”

On Treating Unvaccinated Children Hospitalized for Measles

Trahern W. Jones, a pediatric infectious disease specialist based in Salt Lake City: So I’m coming into a room and just hearing the most awful barking cough, just a cough and a high-pitch stridor as the child is trying to breathe. And he’s just coughing so hard it just makes you feel short of breath. He looks like he’s been beaten down for days, but he can’t rest, because the cough keeps him awake.

The parents tell me they’re not anti-vaccine, but in the past, somebody they know had a reaction to a vaccine — or something they thought was a reaction to a vaccine — and so they paused vaccines when the child was a baby. They were planning to catch up later.

In another case, the parent was stunned by how awful it was. I asked them what they knew about measles before their child was sick, and they said the only person who’d ever taught them anything about measles was their grandmother who had taken care of her kids with measles ages ago. That’s something I’ve heard from other parents. It’s such an awful illness. Even the best possible course is going to be one of the worst diseases most children ever go through.

There are multiple facets to it. Physically, the child has been beat down for multiple days by this virus. The parents don’t get to sleep, because they’re nursing their child. Then there’s the emotional component because the parent is regretting not getting the vaccine, not realizing how bad this was, and then feeling deeply ashamed, trying to reconcile with family members who are really upset at them for not getting their child vaccinated.

(Amy Maxmen/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

Morris: One child was from a family that was uninsured because they didn’t feel that they would need to use the medical system. They were faced with the high burden of cost of our healthcare system. The cost was playing into the parents’ decision on whether or not their child should receive necessary medical care. I said something like: “Please don’t go home. Your child needs oxygen. She has pneumonia. We will figure out a way to pay for this, because we acknowledge what we do is expensive.”

On top of that, the parent had several other children in the home who weren’t vaccinated. It was past the period where we could intervene with vaccines to try to prevent infection, so then our recommendation was to quarantine their children at home for 21 days: “Don’t interact with anybody else in your community. Don’t go to the grocery store, even with a mask. Please take this seriously.”

It takes time for parents to understand the level of concern I have, even when their child is physically ill in the hospital requiring ongoing care. It’s pretty indicative of the breakdown of trust between physicians and families. I say, “This is the gravity or severity of your child’s situation and how serious we need to be about protecting other people.”

It’s frustrating. How can I make people understand I have a very genuine concern for their child? And I know they share that concern, but maybe it’s not the same degree of concern, because they don’t understand the illness and how severe it can become.

Money: It’s heartbreaking to see these children struggling to survive when measles could have been easily prevented by a safe mechanism that is readily available and well studied. These are well-meaning parents who love their children, who have gotten bad information from federal leadership or from online sources. The saddest part to me is when I am caring for a child and the parent says, “I didn’t know that this could get so bad.”

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On Conversations With Parents Who Don’t Vaccinate Their Children

Tim Duffy, a pediatrician in Salt Lake County: A lot of families aren’t aggressively anti-vax, but they’re hesitant. Younger parents who grew up in the digital age have done their research — “research” in quotation marks — for months. And they keep getting confirmation of their concerns on social media. They think they’re doing what’s best for their child.

I’ve told families: “You could do nothing I say as a pediatrician. You could sleep your child on their stomach. You could not put them in a car seat or, when they’re older, not use seat belts. You could do nothing I say, and for your individual child, they will probably be OK. But from my standpoint, where I’m taking care of thousands of kids, within a system that takes care of hundreds of thousands of kids, we will have bad outcomes. These children will show up at our facilities, and it’s so sad.”

Pediatrician in southern Utah whom ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ agreed not to name, because of concerns about harassment after being targeted by anti-vaccine activists in the past: A lot of parents are concerned about autism. I’ve told them that I’d be very concerned if there was any evidence that what we’re doing is causing autism. But if vaccines were causing autism, we should see more cases of autism in vaccinated kids compared to unvaccinated kids, and we’re just not seeing that.

I’ve also had families who say they want to be natural, or that they’re concerned about what is in the shots. A frequently asked question is: “Did you vaccinate your children?” I say that knowing what I know, I’m confident giving this to my kids. They’re all vaccinated.

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On the Influence of Politics on Vaccine Hesitancy

Jones: Vaccines have become a political football. That wasn’t true 20 years ago. But now it’s used to drive a wedge between groups of people, which is unfortunate. Vaccines are one of the main reasons why we don’t have to worry about losing our kids.

Southern Utah pediatrician: People don’t know who to believe. If politics comes up, I tell parents that my messaging on vaccines is not politically motivated. When parents ask about changes to the vaccine schedule, I’m transparent. [In January, the Department of Health and Human Services reducing the number of vaccines given to children. A few months later, a federal judge blocked those changes.]

I’ve said there was a process for the approval of immunizations through ACIP [the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices], which is made up of scientists, public health experts, and doctors, and all those people were let go, and a new panel was selected. A couple of individuals changed the recommendation outside of the time-tested, evidence-based process for evaluating vaccines. That raises concerns for me as a doctor. I tell parents that the American Academy of Pediatrics, the American Academy of Family Physicians, and several other professional organizations have issued statements saying that these changes are not based on evidence.

Ellie Brownstein, a pediatrician in Salt Lake County and president-elect of the Utah chapter of the American Academy of Pediatrics: I avoid talking about politics, but what’s being said has added another layer to our work. One family asked me about changes to vaccine recommendations, so instead of just telling them what immunizations are due, I talk with them about why physicians and researchers have followed a different schedule for years, about the reasoning and the science behind it. I explain that I trust these experts over someone without a lot of experience.

Money: People are not vaccinated, because they’ve lost trust in the medical community. They’re placing trust elsewhere. Rebuilding trust is a complicated process, but it comes from consistent messaging at every level, from the pediatrician to local health departments to community leaders, city leadership, district leadership, religious leadership, educational leadership.

We need consistent messaging from state leadership, which has been pretty absent. I want to see commercials on TV about the safety of the MMR [measles, mumps, and rubella] vaccine and the dangers of the measles, sponsored by my state leadership. I’d like to see this on billboards and in schools, in public buildings and grocery stores. I want to go to a sports event and see messages about the measles and the MMR vaccine. Right now, people have to go out of their way to find information from reputable sources.

We also need policy changes to support vaccination. This train is going in the wrong direction, and it can feel like a helpless situation, because we’re just not seeing the public messaging and leadership that’s needed to turn this around.

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Advice on Talking With Parents Who Don’t Vaccinate Their Children

Jones: Approach them with as much compassion as you possibly can. Ask open-ended questions to learn about their experiences that led them to have these concerns. I think it’s really important to not come down on them, citing facts and figures and pointing to guidelines on why they need to get their kids vaccinated. But try to direct their attention to the fact that you’re a real person with your own real experiences and knowledge. I point out to families that I have my own kids, and I would never recommend something for your kids that I wouldn’t do for mine.

Southern Utah pediatrician: I’ve learned that if you come down hard, you’re going to lose people who need care. My number one goal now is to build bridges and maintain a relationship with families, because that’s what’s going to allow me to convince some of them.

I approach people differently depending on where they are. Parents who are very skeptical or anti-vax will say no when I tell them their child is due for immunizations. I’ll say: “Fine. You guys get to choose. You’re the parents. But I’m curious to know what your reasoning is.” Sometimes they’re just like, “It’s something I’ve decided.” They don’t want to have a conversation.

It’s a good day if I can have a conversation with someone who doesn’t want to vaccinate, even if I don’t convince them. I try to help them think through things rather than shoving anything down their throat. When they’re done talking, I’ll ask, “Can I share my perspectives on this?” Some will say yes enthusiastically, and others will say yes because they’re being polite.

A lot of parents aren’t sure what to do, and those are the people I focus most of my time on. I focus our conversation on their specific concerns, and I’m open about specific side effects that different immunizations can have. For example, I’ll tell them that some children get a fever after a vaccine, which is OK. The fever is not harmful, but it can make babies feel crummy as their body is building up antibodies against viruses and bacteria.

Brownstein: I don’t like the idea of excluding unvaccinated kids from my practice. I know some do that. But what that does is it ends any future discussion. I can’t keep talking with parents about vaccines if I kick them out of my practice, and if these parents find like-minded doctors, this situation will get worse.

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On Being on the Front Lines of Measles’ Comeback in the U.S.

(Amy Maxmen/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

Money: I wish that people could see what I see. Everyone else sees what people post on Instagram. Or they think, “Someone I know had measles when they were a kid and they were fine.” But as a hospital-based pediatrician, I see what happens when things go poorly. I see what happens when children with measles aren’t able to breathe on their own, and they’re in a hospital bed with a cannula in their nose, struggling to breathe, an IV in their arm because they can’t drink on their own. And the child is terrified, and the parents are scared that their child might die.

It’s heartbreaking as a pediatrician and as a father to know that the entire situation could have been easily prevented.

Duffy: Even though parents say vaccination is their choice, I still feel personally responsible if something bad happens that’s preventable, because I feel like I didn’t say the right thing, I didn’t ask the right questions. Maybe I let it drop because of the look on a parent’s face.

Morris: Every pediatrician I know cares so deeply about what they do. Sometimes people forget that we are human beings practicing this discipline, and we bring all our concerns for our community into this space. I’m trying to navigate a lot of complex human emotions, like how it feels to hold grief with a family when something bad happens that was preventable — which is the worst situation, because you think, “Could I have done something differently?”

Jones: I think we’ll see more diseases start coming back that we thought we had gotten rid of. I think it’s going to take dramatic changes to actually prevent those outcomes. I’m not necessarily seeing those changes being done by those in power.

I think of that quote from The Lord of the Rings. It’s something like, you don’t get to choose the time that you’re born into, but you get to choose what you’re going to do about it. And if there’s any comfort that I have, it’s in knowing that there are right decisions to make and that I’m going to make them, and I’m going to help others make them, too.

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

“I want to stay here,” she vowed. “And die here.”

She might pull that off. In relatively good health, Jennett still drives to lunch with friends, does her own housekeeping and grocery shopping, and plows through a book a day, usually a mystery. But her children worry about her living alone at 89, especially after she has had a couple of falls.

Enter her new housemate, Susan Beese. Despite working four days a week in retail, Beese could no longer afford her nearby one-bedroom apartment as the rent topped $1,500 a month. She moved out, first staying with friends and then in what she delicately called “a senior women’s facility.”

Now Beese, who is 79, pays Jennett $800 monthly for a bright two-bedroom space, with a bath and a kitchen, on the lower level of her house. As part of the agreement the housemates worked out, she helps plant and water Jennett’s garden, takes out the trash, and cooks occasional meals.

“It’s been a lifesaver,” Beese said. Jennett even welcomed her dog.

Meet the real-life Golden Girls. In the  1980s sitcom, still in perpetual reruns, the four wisecracking women who share a house in Miami met through an ad on a supermarket bulletin board.

In Denver, the housing matchmaker was Sunshine Home Share Colorado, a local nonprofit that Alison Joucovsky, a senior services administrator, founded in 2016 when the problem became urgent. “My phone was ringing off the hook,” she said, recalling anxious pleas from older residents spending most of their Social Security checks on rising rent or facing years-long waiting lists for subsidized senior housing.

Home sharing “is a really efficient way to create affordable housing and to support older people ,” Joucovsky said. Carefully vetting both “home providers,” who may be rattling around in family houses now too big and too empty, and “home sharers” seeking reasonable rents, Sunshine facilitated 31 shares last year, a record for the nonprofit.

“The cost of developing and building new housing is astronomical, and so is the length of time it takes,” said Laura Fanucchi, president of the National Shared Housing Resource Center and an administrator with HIP Housing, a home-share organization in San Mateo County, California. “Why not make use of existing housing stock?”

About  offer these services — and demand is growing, driven by housing shortages, rising rents, and sales prices that affect both the old and the young. Legislators in several states are working to promote home sharing as an option. (Personal care is not part of these arrangements.)

The need is acute. About a third of households headed by someone 65 or older were “cost-burdened” in 2024, according to  by the Harvard Joint Center for Housing Studies. That means they spent more than 30% of their income on housing.

Although nearly 80% of those people were homeowners, the center found, an increasing proportion are still paying off mortgages or home equity loans, and most contend with higher taxes, utility and maintenance costs, and insurance premiums.

“A lot of the people calling me to complain about property taxes and inflation are senior citizens on fixed incomes whose children have left, and maybe their spouse has died,” said Pennsylvania state Rep. Abby Major, a Republican co-sponsor of a bill that would facilitate home sharing. “They’re a single older adult living in a four-bedroom house.”

Yet most don’t want to relocate. Even if they do, many older adults will find that downsizing has also  as home prices rise and very low interest rates become a memory.

Younger people are similarly cost-burdened, including 37% of those age 25 to 34 and 31% of those 35 to 44, the Joint Center has reported.  both older homeowners who need income and people of any age in search of lower-cost housing.

To help increase their reach, some home-share programs now supplement or replace the traditionally labor-intensive matching process with online platforms. (For-profit companies like Nesterly or roommates.com also facilitate shared housing.)

“It’s like online dating, except that people who have rooms can meet people who need rooms,” said Candice Smith, executive director of HomeShare Oregon. “And it’s a lot more secure.” HomeShare’s online platform has drawn close to 7,000 providers and seekers over five years.

Further support has come from the city of Portland, which this year announced  to pay $1,000 to homeowners who make a spare room available (or $1,500 for two rooms) through qualified home-share programs.

In addition, legislators in several states have introduced or passed bills that prohibit municipalities from unduly restricting homeowners who want to rent spare rooms to nonfamily members. Sponsors in Pennsylvania and Connecticut actually call them Golden Girls bills, and they’ve drawn bipartisan support.

“So many young people have basically given up on buying a home,” said Colorado state Rep. Manny Rutinel. The Democrat helped pass  prohibiting cities and counties from limiting the number of unrelated people who could live together in a single dwelling.

In Pennsylvania, state Rep. Tarik Khan steered  through the House in June; it awaits a Senate vote. “It doesn’t make sense that your cousin can move in but someone unrelated to you can’t,” said Khan, a Democrat.

The Pennsylvania bill caps the number of nonfamily occupants in a home at five; Connecticut’s limit would be three.  passed the Senate in April and then died without a vote in the House. But the bill sponsors plan to reintroduce it next session.

Home sharing can’t solve the housing crisis, its fans acknowledge. But it could make a dent, potentially unlocking thousands of spare bedrooms across the country without requiring new construction that would change the character of neighborhoods.

Admittedly, matching homeowners with those who want to rent a room becomes a delicate process. Home-share staff members typically interview the individual parties, run background checks, verify incomes, coordinate initial phone calls and meetings, and mediate if problems later arise.

They also help applicants sift through the myriad lifestyle preferences that can torpedo a match. “Living together isn’t easy,” Fanucchi said. Will the home provider accept smokers, pets, visitors? Does the sharer work from home? Or need to park a car? Who sets the thermostat?

Sometimes the agreement includes a “service exchange,” in which the newcomer does a few hours of chores like snow shoveling, shopping, or some meal preparation in return for reduced rent.

Jenlyn and Larry Boyer, for instance, have lived in their ranch house in suburban Broomfield, Colorado, for 31 years and never want to leave. But Jenlyn, who is 80, has “gotten unsteady” and uses a walker. Her husband, 70, suffers chronic fibromyalgia pain and needs a wheelchair.

Because they now pay for tasks that they used to undertake themselves, and because inflation has undermined their finances, “I had an epiphany,” Jenlyn said. “We need more help and we need more money.”

Six months ago, through Sunshine Home Share, they met a 46-year-old graduate student whose monthly rent had doubled to an unmanageable $2,000.

The student moved into their furnished downstairs bedroom/family room with a bathroom, a small refrigerator, and a microwave. In exchange for about 10 hours of dishwashing a month, she pays a reduced rent of $600.

The additional income has helped the Boyers cover expenses like van repairs and wheelchair batteries. But they also enjoy chatting with their new housemate.

“She turns out to be just a gem,” Jenlyn said. “We laugh together a lot.”

The New Old Age is produced through a partnership with .

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