Julie Rovner ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ Read Julie's stories. Julie Rovner is chief Washington correspondent and host of ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ weekly health policy news podcast, "What the Health?" A noted expert on health policy issues, Julie is the author of the critically praised reference book "Health Care Politics and Policy A to Z," now in its third edition.

Summer may be approaching its end, but the health policy stories that have marked the season continue. In Washington and across the country, public health officials are still struggling with outbreaks of vaccine-preventable diseases such as measles, while states and health systems are preparing for the impact of major federal funding cuts to their Medicaid programs.

This week’s panelists are Julie Rovner of ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, Shefali Luthra of The 19th, Rachel Roubein of The Washington Post, and Margot Sanger-Katz of The New York Times.

Panelists

Shefali Luthra The 19th

Rachel Roubein The Washington Post

Margot Sanger-Katz The New York Times

Among the takeaways from this week’s episode:

• More Americans are struggling to afford health coverage, even before some of the biggest GOP-initiated changes to Medicaid and Affordable Care Act plans take effect next year. And the federal government’s efforts to block coverage of drugs used in gender-affirming care and to claw back ACA subsidies are creating access issues for a wider pool of Americans.
• Pennsylvania health officials this week reported two measles-related deaths amid an ongoing outbreak and the national debate over vaccines. While many of the actions taken by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services under Robert F. Kennedy Jr. remain held up in litigation, President Donald Trump has made his personal skepticism about vaccines known, including through his recent executive order. Meanwhile, the administration is scaling back enforcement of civil rights protections for people with autism.
• The Trump administration is inviting states to participate in price negotiations with manufacturers over GLP-1 drugs if the states opt to offer the drugs through their Medicaid programs. But, amid concerns over cost, only one state has taken the federal government up on its offer.
• And farewell to Dolly Parton, the superstar country music singer and songwriter, also known for her philanthropic work, who died this week at age 80. In addition to her donation in 2020 supporting the development of the mRNA-based covid vaccine, Parton funded pediatric infectious disease research, a women’s health center in the Tennessee county where she was raised, and training for pediatric medical professionals.

Also this week, Rovner interviews Dean Rosen about his work for former Sen. Nancy Landon Kassebaum, a Kansas Republican and the first woman to lead a major Senate committee, who died last week at age 94.

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

Julie Rovner: The Washington Post’s “,” by Tamar Haspel.  

Margot Sanger-Katz: Stat’s “,” by Anil Oza.  

Rachel Roubein: The New York Times’ “,” by Noah Daly and Andrew Jacobs.  

Shefali Luthra: The Washington Post and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ “,” by LJ Dawson.

Also mentioned in this week’s podcast:

• Stat’s “,” by Daniel Payne.
• Modern Healthcare’s “,” by Nona Tepper.
• Stat’s “,” by John Wilkerson.
• The Washington Post’s “,” by Naema Ahmed, Lena H. Sun and Aaron Steckelberg.
• CIDRAP’s “,” by Meghan Holohan.
• Stat’s “,” by Elizabeth Cooney.
• Politico’s “,” by Kelly Hooper.
• ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ “Trump Puts Autistic Kids in the Spotlight and Cuts Agencies Built To Protect Them,” by Claire Sibonney.

Credits

Click here to find all our podcasts.

And subscribe to “What the Health? From ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ” on , , , , , or wherever you listen to podcasts.

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

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ worked with three Louisiana news outlets — , , and — to ask all 64 sheriffs in the state how they’ve spent their opioid settlement funds. The responses were shared and presented in a data table for all four newsrooms to use. Reporters then conducted individual reporting for separate articles.

Every state is from companies accused of flooding the nation with prescription painkillers and fueling overdose deaths. But only one state is directing 20% of those payouts to sheriffs — the largest carve-out for law enforcement nationwide.

In Louisiana, sheriffs are elected, do not serve at the pleasure of another local official, and have independent budgets. They’re also not required to proactively report to the public or another authority how they spend billions in opioid settlement cash.

Short of filing public records requests or waiting for official audits, that has made it difficult for the average person to track the windfall. Many consider the dollars to be “blood money” and believe the spirit of the settlements is to spend it all on abating the addiction crisis.

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ worked with three Louisiana news outlets — , , and — to track those dollars. The newsrooms contacted all 64 Louisiana sheriffs over five months, often filing public records requests, to produce the first detailed accounting of millions spent.

The findings include:

• Thirty-eight sheriffs reported spending more than $8.1 million total. Much of it went to crime-fighting equipment, such as surveillance cameras and drug detection products, though smaller amounts funded mobile apps, addiction treatment in jails, and educational programs for youth.
• $5.4 million, about 66% of reported spending, was deemed inappropriate by a three-person review panel. The panel, assembled by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and its partners, included a Louisiana resident in recovery who lost his son to a fentanyl overdose, an addiction medicine doctor, and a public health policy analyst who has been tracking settlement dollars since 2022. They judged the expenditures using their professional and personal expertise. Expenditures the panel disapproved of included salaries and overtime pay for homicide detectives and officers conducting jail shakedowns to find contraband.
• $4.7 million, nearly 60% of reported spending, went to items or services that other states say should not be purchased with opioid cash. Six states have , such as technology to extract data from cellphones and automated external defibrillators, which are . Although Louisiana does not have its own “unallowable” list, the state’s — a five-member body that advises sheriffs and parishes but does not control the money — said it has shared the guidance from other states.
• Nine sheriffs stood out for promising uses: All of their expenditures, totaling nearly $1.8 million, were deemed appropriate by the review panel and allowable in other states. These included providing addiction treatment in jail, training officers to respond to overdoses, and increasing public awareness of addiction resources.
• Twenty sheriffs did not provide their expenditures, leaving roughly $10.7 million that hidden from public view. The Jefferson Parish Sheriff’s Office, which covers an area just outside New Orleans and was allotted the highest amount — nearly $4 million through 2025 — did not respond to more than a dozen calls and emails.

Nationwide, debates over law enforcement’s role with opioid settlement money have been underway since the funds began flowing significantly in 2022 and have continued as the pool of money has grown. Purdue Pharma, , finalized its this year, and various settlements are set to pay out for an additional decade-plus.

Since the earliest days, these dollars have been viewed across government agencies and the private sector as a pot of gold for which many are vying.

Law enforcement agencies are part of this scrum. They say seizing drugs and arresting dealers save lives, but that costs money and the addiction crisis has burdened their budgets. However, many recovery advocates staunchly oppose any opioid cash flowing to what they see as the .

Since there are few guardrails on how the money is spent, decisions often come down to how local politicians and residents see addiction and what type of approach they believe will be effective in combating it.

Louisiana provides a natural experiment to see which priorities prevail when money is handed directly to sheriffs.

First Public Look at How Louisiana Sheriffs Have Spent Over $8M in Opioid Settlement Cash

In Louisiana, sheriffs receive 20% of the state's opioid settlement cash — the largest carve-out for law enforcement nationwide. But since sheriffs are not required to proactively report how they spend the money, it's hard to track. Reporters from ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, The Current, Gulf States Newsroom, and Verite News contacted all 64 sheriffs to uncover spending details. <br><br> Click column headings to sort the table.

Note: In some cases, the amount of money spent exceeds the amount allocated because sheriffs may have reported spending that included their 2026 allocations or because sheriffs combined their opioid settlement dollars with the share received by parish governments or other funding sources. Descriptions of spending are based on emails or phone calls with the sheriffs' offices and have been lightly edited. <br> Source: The money allocated to sheriffs was obtained by summing values for years 1-5, representing 2021-2025, from the Louisiana Opioid Abatement Task Force’s <a href="; target="_blank" style="color:#0071ce">public spreadsheet</a>. Data on money spent was collected by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, The Current, Gulf States Newsroom, and Verite News. • <a href="/download-the-data-louisiana-sheriffs-opioid-settlement-expenditures/&quot; target="_blank" style="color:#0071ce">Download the data.</a> <br> Credit: ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ' Lydia Zuraw and Aneri Pattani, The Current’s Alena Maschke, Gulf States Newsroom’s Drew Hawkins, and Verite News’ Katie Jane Fernelius

The state’s agreement with parishes and sheriffs receiving settlement cash contains broad categories for , including “law enforcement expenditures relating to the opioid epidemic.”

But even if the sheriffs’ spending is legal, that doesn’t mean it’s appropriate or effective, addiction and public health experts say.

“What’s happening here is they have a lot of money and they want to distribute it to all the wrong places,” said Danny Bolner Jr., a Jefferson Parish resident who has been in recovery from addiction for more than two decades and lost his 28-year-old son to a fentanyl overdose in 2016. On the panel that reviewed expenditures, Bolner represented the view of families who have lost loved ones to the crisis.

The purchase of drones and vehicles struck a nerve for him. He’d prefer for opioid cash to support programs that educate youth about healthy ways to process emotions, provide job training to people in recovery, and distribute overdose reversal medications.

“This money is what we have to save lives,” he said. If sheriffs use it in other ways, the finite pot “is going to be gone and then they won’t have nothing to help.”

A Safe, a Scanner, and Surveillance Cameras

For , a public health policy analyst and national opioid settlement expert who was a member of the review panel, determining if expenditures fit the spirit of the settlements often centered on whether they facilitated arrests or prevented overdoses.

“The impetus of this opioid settlement money is to spend on innovative ways to not let this happen again,” she said, referring to the overdose crisis that has claimed since 2000. She said sheriffs should be asking, “How could we use this to reinvest in the community, not just build up our office?”

Many of the sheriffs’ equipment purchases didn’t meet her bar.

For example, the East Baton Rouge Sheriff’s Office bought a safe to store evidence from opioid investigations and a scanner for their traffic division to identify narcotics in hidden compartments. The Terrebonne Parish Sheriff’s Office spent $465,000 on , which are automated license plate readers that capture data about passing vehicles and share them with law enforcement agencies nationwide. The Bossier Parish Sheriff’s Office purchased 130 body cameras and 50 dash cameras.

Sheriffs already receive taxpayer dollars and federal grants to buy law enforcement tools, Christensen said. Opioid cash, which is finite and has a specific purpose, should not be used for that, she and the other reviewers said. In fact, some states don’t allow it.

13 Louisiana Sheriffs Spent 100% of Opioid Settlement Money Inappropriately, per an Expert Panel

The expenditures were reviewed by Tricia Christensen, a public health policy analyst who has been tracking opioid settlement spending since 2022; Stephen Loyd, an addiction medicine doctor and a person in recovery who serves as West Virginia's drug czar; and Danny Bolner Jr., a person in recovery who lost his son to a fentanyl overdose and is raising his son’s daughter in Jefferson Parish, Louisiana. A majority vote determined which expenditures were appropriate. <br><br> The map depicts the percentage of money each sheriff spent on expenditures disapproved by the reviewers.

Note: The reviewers voted on the propriety of each expenditure based on their own views of the purpose of opioid settlement money. The rates of opioid-involved deaths are age-adjusted. Rates based on counts <5 were suppressed by the Louisiana Department of Health to protect privacy. "Opioid-involved deaths" include deaths in which opioids were present in the body and/or contributed to death, even if they were not the sole cause of death. <br> Sources: Settlement spending and reviewer opinions collected by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, The Current, Gulf States Newsroom, and Verite News; opioid-involved death rates from the Louisiana Department of Health <br> Credit: ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ' Lydia Zuraw and Aneri Pattani, The Current’s Alena Maschke, Gulf States Newsroom’s Drew Hawkins, and Verite News’ Katie Jane Fernelius

But taxpayer money may not cover everything sheriffs need, said , executive director of the Louisiana Sheriffs’ Association. “Our budgets are overloaded,” he said.

Complex investigations to dismantle drug trafficking syndicates can require advanced equipment, , a spokesperson for the East Baton Rouge Sheriff’s Office, wrote in a statement.

“While treatment and recovery services are indispensable components of addressing opioid addiction, they address the consequences of addiction after these drugs have already reached our community,” she wrote. “Law enforcement has a different, but equally essential, responsibility: preventing those deadly drugs from reaching potential victims in the first place.”

First Lt. Blake Tabor, a spokesperson for the Terrebonne sheriff’s office, similarly wrote, “Our role as a law enforcement agency is primarily focused on disrupting the criminal activity that fuels addiction in our community.” That effort complements other entities’ work in prevention, treatment, and recovery, he added.

The Bossier Parish Sheriff’s Office declined to comment.

Where Public Health Meets Public Safety

Not all sheriffs spent the money on enforcement.

Acadia Parish Sheriff directed all his settlement cash to provide treatment in jail. He said he hopes to break cycles of addiction and crime.

“I want people back into society, being productive,” he said.

Research shows for opioid use disorder behind bars and .

In St. Martin Parish, settlement funds helped launch a of officers that connects people with substance use disorders or related mental illness to treatment, said Chester Cedars, chief legal counsel for its sheriff’s office. Officers also try to coordinate support services for family members and assist with questions around paying for care.

“We’re not clinicians,” Cedars said, but we “serve as a broker” between people who need services and those who provide them.

, an addiction medicine doctor and the West Virginia drug czar, who was the third member of the review panel, said he loved the comprehensive nature of the program. Addiction “is a family issue,” he said. “Every time that phone rings, it’s a potential family crisis.”

It’s not a coincidence that these parishes earned top marks from the reviewers. Cedars is the former chair of the , and Gibson is the current chair. That’s the body meant to guide others on priority uses of settlement cash.

Cedars was clear that the St. Martin sheriff’s office was not using “one penny for any enforcement activity,” because that’s not what the settlement “intended to accomplish.”

Gibson was more hesitant, saying the legal guidelines are broad and “I’m not here to criticize anybody.”

He has advised about a dozen sheriffs who have reached out with questions, but he knows they’re not required to heed his guidance.

A from the Louisiana Legislative Auditor found that the task force has no teeth to enforce its recommendations.

If people want stronger guardrails on the opioid cash, state lawmakers need to enact new rules, Gibson said.

Stepping Up Oversight

The Louisiana state legislature in May calling for the legislative auditor to review how all parishes and sheriffs are handling their opioid settlement money and report to lawmakers prior to the 2027 legislative session.

State Sen. , a Republican who co-authored the resolution, said the goal is to shed light on where dollars are flowing, if jurisdictions are spending them at all, and which funded programs are effective.

With that information, Myers said, he and others could “absolutely” introduce bills “to tighten up how funding is spent.”

Louisiana Sheriffs Spent $4.7M in Opioid Settlement Cash on Items, Activities Deemed Unallowable in Other States

Six states — <a href="; target="_blank" style="color:#0071ce">California</a>, <a href="; target="_blank" style="color:#0071ce">Indiana</a>, <a href="; target="_blank" style="color:#0071ce">Kansas</a>, <a href="; target="_blank" style="color:#0071ce">Michigan</a>, <a href="; target="_blank" style="color:#0071ce">South Carolina</a>, and <a href="; target="_blank" style="color:#0071ce">Virginia</a> — have created lists of items and services that they say opioid settlement funds should not be spent on, including surveillance cameras and vehicles. Although Louisiana does not have its own "unallowable" list, the state's Opioid Abatement Task Force said it has shared other states' guidance with some sheriffs. Yet nearly 60% of the sheriffs' spending involves items found on such lists.

Note: Unallowable lists may not be legally binding in each state but are considered strong guidance. <br> Source: Data collection by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, The Current, Gulf States Newsroom, and Verite News <br> Credit: ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ' Lydia Zuraw and Aneri Pattani

Meanwhile, the Louisiana Opioid Abatement Task Force is trying to strengthen its oversight.

Curtis Nelson is executive counsel for the Louisiana Opioid Abatement Administration Corporation, a nonprofit that supports the task force. He said the body is seeking quotes from accountants to conduct ongoing forensic audits of parishes and sheriffs. The goal is to audit 10 to 15 entities annually, starting with those receiving the most money. If the audits turn up misuse, the task force could withhold future payments from those parishes or sheriffs, Nelson said.

The task force is also exploring creating its own unallowable list, like those in other states, Nelson said.

Louisiana Gov. Jeff Landry and Attorney General Liz Murrill did not respond to questions about whether they’d support an unallowable list or take other actions to address opioid settlement spending.

But many advocates are hopeful that an unallowable list could curb spending they found concerning.

“You’re keeping them on the track when you tell them what they can’t use it for,” said Bolner, the Jefferson Parish resident who lost his son to overdose and is raising his son’s daughter.

While he awaits greater oversight for sheriffs, Bolner plans to continue the work he’s been doing for years: distributing overdose reversal medications at schools, hospitals, and bars; participating in grief support groups with other families; and showing up at community events to raise awareness about addiction. He said he’ll keep speaking with sheriffs and parishes about what he considers the best use of settlement money.

“If I save one life, it’s accomplished,” he said.

Methodology

The Current’s Alena Maschke, Gulf States Newsroom’s Drew Hawkins, and Verite News’ Katie Jane Fernelius contributed to the database featured in this article.

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

“I’ve seen nurses get shoved, pushed, scratched. The biggest one is bitten,” said Dhooghe, who works at in Grand Blanc, Michigan.

The in healthcare has in states such as , , , , and , where Dhooghe and many of her co-workers have been on the picket line since Labor Day last year.

“People will question me and be like, ‘Why are you still working in a place if you’re treated like this?’” said Dhooghe, who gets by on strike benefits and working extra shifts at another hospital. The problem, she said, is that other hospitals aren’t any better. “It’s the same everywhere I go.”

In a statement, spokesperson Dana Jay acknowledged violence against healthcare workers is a “national epidemic” and said the health system’s efforts to address the problem include metal detectors, armed security officers trained to make “misdemeanor arrests,” and de-escalation training.

“We have zero tolerance for violence of any kind,” said Jay, asserting the strike is not about safety but is instead “simply an economic strike.”

Nationwide, hospital workers are seven times as likely to be injured on the job due to violent acts as members of the general working population, according to the available from the Bureau of Labor Statistics. The outcry over workplace violence in healthcare is pitting workers’ demands for better compensation and staffing against hospital operators pressured to cut costs.

‘A Powder Keg’

Violent outbursts are so common that they’ve been dramatized on the popular medical TV series . “Emergency rooms right now are like a powder keg,” said Rachel Odes, an assistant professor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison School of Nursing.

In hospitals, a combative or violent patient is known as a “.” Outbursts can be spontaneous and unpredictable, making some almost impossible to prevent. But research shows the increases when hospitals are understaffed or employees are insufficiently trained or experienced.

Mental health worker Andrew Kimball-Mirzaie said he got hurt in February 2024 at Butler Hospital in Providence, Rhode Island.

He’d been working at the private psychiatric hospital for about six weeks and said he hadn’t yet worked in the ER. He said he was sent there to “monitor” a man in his 20s who was waiting for an inpatient bed.

The patient was alone in a back room watching a Knicks basketball game on TV, he recalled. Kimball-Mirzaie said he got the patient a drink and a snack. They were watching the game when, suddenly, he said, the patient stood up and punched him in the face. He said the assault left him with a concussion and broken nose. His injuries were documented in the hospital’s.

“I understand that there is an inherent danger with the job,” Kimball-Mirzaie said. He doesn’t blame the patient, who was very ill at the time. “We should have had at least another staff member with us,” he said, “and I should have been adequately trained on the unit.”

The attack emboldened Kimball-Mirzaie to join some 700 other unionized Butler workers last spring and summer in a months-long strike, which forced the hospital to close . Service Employees International Union 1199 New England declared the strike a win.

Employees received wage increases that union leaders said would enable the hospital to attract and retain more staff. The hospital also agreed to provide financial support for workers violently injured on the job. And the hospital and union agreed to jointly fund a “time bank” to supplement workers’ compensation for injured workers who need more time to recover.

But five months later, a nurse supervisor at Butler had to call 911 because an unarmed patient in the hospital’s ER was assaulting staff. According to the police report, by the time police arrested the patient, he’d injured two nurses, a security guard, and a police officer.

“Butler recognizes the importance of being proactive in protecting those who provide care,” Mary Marran, Butler’s president and chief operating officer, said in a statement. She added that hospital leadership meets regularly with staff to review safety measures and “identify opportunities to strengthen protection for everyone.”

The patient was charged with four counts of , including against the two nurses.

The American Hospital Association has said punishment is key to preventing violence. It has been to make assaulting healthcare workers a that would carry in prison. At least , including and , have enacted similar laws. But workplace safety experts say there is no evidence that such laws have reduced the incidence of violence against healthcare workers.

Calls for ‘Safe Staffing’

Striking healthcare workers around the country often have demanded “safe staffing” instead of stronger punishments for patients who cause injuries.

The against healthcare workers has caught the attention of the , the accreditation organization for more than 80% of U.S. hospitals and health systems. The commission released national performance goals that and require hospitals to be and that staff be trained “to provide safe, quality care.”

But no federal law limits the number of patients in a nurse’s care across healthcare settings, despite the nation’s largest nurses union, National Nurses United, having pressed for a national standard . Hospitals must “safely staff all units” to enable nurses to “provide the care that patients need before they get agitated or disoriented,” said , lead industrial hygienist for .

Some states have passed their own staffing laws. Only has enacted broad mandatory nurse staffing ratios, which were associated with lower mortality rates and likely higher retention. Oregon enacted a staffing law, . Legislators in and have introduced similar bills, but they have failed to advance to floor votes.

The American Hospital Association opposes mandatory minimum nurse staffing ratios in hospitals, saying they would “remove real-time clinical judgment and flexibility,” , and potentially force some hospitals to turn away patients or delay care, spokesperson Colleen Kincaid said. And she pointed to California, whose for psychiatric hospitals reportedly in at least four counties.

“There are a lot of other things you can do to prevent workplace violence than just increasing staffing levels,” said , who was a deputy assistant secretary of labor for the Occupational Safety and Health Administration during the Obama administration and helped develop OSHA’s for healthcare and social service workers.

Barab said hospitals can, for example, train employees in de-escalation, install metal detectors, or have specially trained security guards on-site so staff don’t have to wait for police to arrive when an incident happens.

, a worker safety and health policy expert at Georgetown University, said the in congressional Republicans’ One Big Beautiful Bill Act will in the next few years.

When funding dries up, she said, “protecting workers is going to be the first thing that gets cut.”

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

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 .

BALTIMORE — In March in a McDonald’s parking lot off a busy street, mental health clinician Michala Williams met a 38-year-old woman in a car.

“So, you called the police for help?” Williams asked the woman, who was sobbing uncontrollably and said she sometimes thinks about harming herself.

She told Williams she has children ranging from age 2 to 22, she was dealing with health issues, and that her fiancé had recently been jailed. She felt so overwhelmed she couldn’t eat.

The woman, who asked not to be named so that she could freely discuss her mental health, explained she’d tried to get help the previous month by driving to the hospital but got pulled over on the way because her car registration had expired.

“I don’t care if I get pulled over,” she said. “But I was saying, ‘I don’t know what to do. I just want to go to the hospital.’”

The officer arrested her for acting erratically, so instead of going to the hospital she went to jail.

“I had to sit inside of a cold cell. I couldn’t use the bathroom or anything,” the woman said.

On the day she met Williams, she’d decided to call 911. The dispatcher recognized the woman didn’t need a police response but instead needed one of Baltimore’s mobile crisis teams, which send a clinician and a peer counselor to meet people in mental health distress.

By the end of an hourlong conversation, Williams set the woman up with referrals to a psychiatrist, a therapist, legal help, and a case manager to determine if her child with autism was eligible for government services.

“She’s been through a lot of trauma, and no one is going to deny that,” Williams said. “But I now have to take all of that and decide, ‘OK, here’s steps 1, 2, and 3,’ because we got to find a little bit of sliver of something to give her some hope that there’s help out here.”

For years, the mobile crisis teams, which are overseen by , a nonprofit that acts as the city’s mental health department, have diverted calls from police to mental health professionals. However, the units have a limited scope, focused on people in mental health crises.

Now Baltimore is tapping into some of the roughly $400 million from opioid-related legal settlements to build out a broader service to operate around the clock and respond to other kinds of crises when police aren’t needed.

Baltimore logged to 911 in 2024, but tens of thousands of them didn’t require traditional emergency services, like police, firefighters, or EMTs, according to , an expert in community safety at Georgetown Law.

Instead, the calls were about, for example, a homeless person who fell asleep in a store, a person who seemed confused in a public park, and someone who was yelling at passersby on the street.

Such calls “don’t require a badge, a gun, and handcuffs to resolve,” Duckett said.

Often those people end up in jail instead of getting the help they need, he said. A study that when a non-law enforcement team responded to 911 calls in Durham, North Carolina, it resulted in fewer arrests than when police responded — especially for callers who were Black, men, or ages 25-39. Police responses can also lead to trauma for that person or a less satisfactory outcome than another community service response would produce, Duckett said. The idea behind the Baltimore mobile crisis teams — and the new service — is to find out what people in crisis may need and how to connect them to those resources instead of arresting them.

From 2021 to 2025, Baltimore’s homicide rate decreased by 60%, setting records for the drop in violence. But at the same time, drug overdoses made national records, as about 1,000 people here each year from 2020 to 2023.

In 2018, Baltimore opted out of a global settlement that other jurisdictions made with opioid makers and distributors and instead sued them independently. As the opioid-related lawsuits were settled, city officials decided that the settlement awards it receives must be spent on drug-related harms — or on services that help prevent addiction, such as housing support, healthcare, and education.

One seeks to directly address overdoses by placing boxes of the overdose reversal drug naloxone at every subway stop. Expanding 911 services is part of a larger strategy to beef up city services, with $15 million in settlement funds allocated so far, according to Sara Whaley, Baltimore’s director of overdose response. Whaley hopes the expansion will help the city think differently about how it responds to residents in crisis — regardless of why they’re calling 911.

She views the calls as an opportunity to help solve a problem rather than be punitive. “What are the wraparound services and support that can help prevent them from being involved in this, in that emergency system?” she said.

For example, the person falling asleep in a store may need connection to community housing. The goal is to reduce violence, get people proper resources, and avoid the cycle of incarcerating people dealing with poverty, addiction, and mental health.

, executive director of the Health Lab at the University of Chicago, of services like these. She said they offer peace of mind for callers that “they’re going to be met with the right response at the right time.”

“We also see responders themselves feeling like they have a better toolbox in their ability to pursue actual resolution to these calls,” she said.

To expand its system, Baltimore looked to cities — including Durham — that have adopted similar models to reroute callers who don’t need emergency responders.

Durham’s diversion program is called the , or HEART. The program estimates it has diverted more than 12,000 calls in four years. It said police backup was needed for only 0.02% of those calls and that response times have improved for all types of 911 calls.

Durham has of the HEART calls, showing that nonpolice responders in Durham have helped with everything from finding housing for a woman fleeing domestic violence to setting up medical appointments for a homeless veteran.

In one case, a hotel manager called 911 asking for help finding a blind man housing for the night, since the hotel didn’t have accessible rooms available. The HEART responders booked him a room and the next day provided a ride to meet with an organization that could help secure housing.

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

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

Nearly half of that money is , to be distributed by county commissioners and city councilors. The idea is that local leaders know their communities best and can do justice to these payouts, often described as “blood money” by people who’ve lost loved ones to an overdose.

But many local leaders have little to no training in addiction policy and may lack robust local health departments and policy guardrails to assist them.

That has resulted in spending decisions that many clinicians, researchers, and addiction recovery advocates say are unlikely to save lives or treat substance use disorders.

In New York, where is directly controlled by local governments, counties have spent tens of thousands of dollars on surveillance cameras, technology to help police access data on locked cellphones, and goggles that simulate being drunk, according to public records obtained by the nonprofit advocacy group and shared exclusively with ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ. Though the purchases were likely legal, many people consider them a slap in the face because they don’t directly help people struggling with addiction or their families.

Without oversight, counties have the chance “to go rogue” with this money, said , director of drug policy at VOCAL-NY, an advocacy organization that is tracking settlement money as part of its mission to serve people affected by the war on drugs.

When advocates and families of overdose victims raise concerns to the various state agencies that could hold localities accountable, those agencies often punt to one another, Budnella and other local advocates said.

It feels “like the where it’s like everybody’s pointing at each other,” Budnella said. “Somebody needs to be able to have the stick and slam their hand on the table and be like, ‘You’re doing this wrong and this is the consequence.’”

The experience in New York provides a microcosm of regulators evading oversight responsibility nationwide while varied interests vie for the financial windfall.

Years of data collected by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, and the addiction nonprofit Shatterproof have found that settlement money was spent on law enforcement gear, such as night-vision goggles and bulletproof vests; unproven prevention initiatives, such as a drug-awareness magician for kids; and budget stopgaps.

It’s unclear who should — or will — take action on such expenditures that many people harmed by the crisis consider questionable.

In each state, control of the money is split among various entities, creating a leadership vacuum. The federal government . Advocates and families who’ve lost loved ones have pushed for accountability but have limited power. A few states have passed new laws, but change is slow and uneven.

The require the majority of the money to be spent on “opioid remediation,” with . But the list is broad and open to interpretation. Further complicating the issue, many states — including New York — designate some portion of the settlement dollars as unrestricted, which allows for general spending.

Meanwhile, federal budget cuts have threatened addiction-related services and created more demand for funding. And though overdose deaths have decreased since , they still claim about 186 lives per day.

“We really are wasting this opportunity to use these funds to turn the epidemic around,” said , a Binghamton, New York, resident, whose 28-year-old son, Jeff Dugon, died of a heroin overdose in 2014.

He was a chef who loved to rib Pleus about her bad knife skills. She thinks of him and smiles every time she peels garlic the way he taught her. If the money could spare other families such heartache, that would give her solace.

“We need oversight,” said Pleus, who runs a nonprofit that is receiving opioid settlement cash from her county to serve people who use drugs and provide support groups for families.

In New York, there are three prime watchdog contenders: the Office of Addiction Services and Supports, the attorney general, and the comptroller.

The Lead State Agency

New York’s opioid settlement documents designate the as the “.”

It distributes a portion of settlement dollars via grants, according to recommendations from the state’s . It also has the power to “engage in oversight and audits of projects and programs” funded by settlement cash and “may withhold future funds” from local governments that do not comply with certain requirements, according to the agreement.

Agency spokesperson Jerry Gretzinger told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ the office has not yet exercised its power to withhold funds but understands its oversight role.

“OASAS has a duty to ensure these funds are used responsibly and strategically to build programs that will have a lasting impact in reversing this crisis,” Gretzinger wrote in a statement.

The office is currently auditing 19 local governments’ use of the money to ensure compliance with “reporting and recordkeeping requirements,” he said. However, that may not encompass the broader question of whether money was spent on appropriate uses, which many advocates want addressed.

Some people are frustrated with the narrow role OASAS has carved out.

For example, required local governments for the first time to publicly report how they spent settlement money. OASAS on its site. But it does not review the accuracy or detail of that data, instead relying on “the information as it is provided” by localities, Gretzinger said.

“That doesn’t feel like oversight,” said , a deputy director at the Legal Action Center, which obtained public records about local spending in New York.

Members of the state’s Opioid Settlement Fund Advisory Board have also to provide more data and evaluation of how dollars are being used. But at a , OASAS Commissioner Chinazo Cunningham deflected.

“OASAS has no oversight over these portions of dollars,” she said of the 46% of settlement money that goes directly to counties and cities. “In terms of what kind of data each county collects,” she added, “we cannot dictate exactly what that information is.”

Click for Examples of spending decisions Local Spending That’s Fueling Calls for Oversight in New York

To uncover how opioid settlement cash is being spent, the nonprofit advocacy group filed public records requests with 56 New York counties and New York City, all of which are to disburse as they see fit.

Many of the responses showed spending on addiction treatment, recovery, and prevention initiatives that researchers and clinicians agree are a good use of money. Others surfaced questionable expenditures.

, for example, showed $150,000 in settlement cash directed to “Sheriff Jail” with no further description. The county did not respond to repeated inquiries for more details.

Sullivan County spent more than $30,000 on Cellebrite technology, used to extract data from cellphones, and more than $37,000 on Tasers. Though county officials didn’t respond to requests for comment, explained that those purchases came from unrestricted funds.

Such justifications rankle some families affected by the crisis, who say even if there aren’t legal restrictions on those dollars, there should be moral ones.

“Anything that is not directly tied to people who are struggling with opioid addiction or the loss of someone is a poor use of funds,” said , who lost a son to an overdose and now runs a nonprofit aimed at helping families dealing with addiction. Her organization has received settlement funds from Broome County, New York.

Records also revealed that many jurisdictions have yet to spend a significant portion of their money — a other .

Local officials say thoughtful planning takes time. But some advocates suspect ulterior motives. Millions of settlement dollars in bank accounts can generate sizable interest.

In March, it came to light that Nassau County had in interest accrued from unused opioid settlement funds to the county’s general fund, where it could be used for any purpose. County officials didn’t respond to requests for comment. The money was following public backlash.

Advocates suspect such attempts are happening elsewhere but are difficult to identify within complex budgeting documents.

It feels like “it’s up to us all — the organizers, the advocates, the service providers” — to be constantly watching, said , director of drug policy at the advocacy organization VOCAL-NY. “It’s frustrating.”

That’s why state agencies are being called on to step into an oversight role.

The Top Law Enforcement Officer

New York has been one of the leading national voices on prosecuting pharmaceutical companies that fueled the overdose crisis. Her office has issued on the topic, touting her role in securing billions of opioid settlement dollars for the state.

But when asked about the attorney general’s role in ensuring this windfall is spent appropriately, her office passed the buck to other agencies.

“While our partners in state and local governments distribute and oversee these funds, we will continue our work to hold accountable the companies responsible for fueling the spread of addictions and overdoses,” spokesperson Grant Fox wrote in a statement.

That stance contrasts starkly with many people’s views of the office’s responsibility.

A state senator, a member of the opioid settlement advisory board, and several advocates named the attorney general’s office as a key enforcement entity.

“The money is here because of their efforts,” said Democratic state , who chairs the committee on alcoholism and substance use disorders and has introduced of related to settlement funds. “I believe it is under the Office of the Attorney General to enforce.”

Budnella, the advocate with VOCAL-NY, agreed, saying, “It would be a shame for all of their work that they have done to secure all this funding for it to be misspent.”

Attorneys general in and have taken more active roles, issuing lists of ways opioid settlement money cannot be spent. The lists include many law enforcement expenditures that have raised concerns for advocates in New York.

James’ office did not respond to a specific question about whether she’d consider creating a similar list.

The Fiscal Watchdog

Some people have suggested that the state comptroller, as a steward of New York’s finances, could play an oversight role, perhaps by conducting or requiring audits.

Early this year, the Reason Foundation, a libertarian think tank, that would create audit requirements for organizations receiving settlement cash. The blueprint suggests recipients of more than $1 million in opioid settlements be required to undergo an independent review of financial statements and transaction testing to determine whether funds were used for their intended purpose. Smaller grantees, receiving less than $1 million, could simply provide an unaudited accounting of the funds.

It’s “not telling states what is and what isn’t an appropriate use,” said , a co-author of the Reason Foundation plan. “We’re simply trying to ensure recipients follow through with their promises.”

No state has adopted the model law yet. But the office of New York told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ it is already conducting an audit.

The process, which began in February, “is looking at OASAS’ oversight” of the opioid settlement money, said spokesperson Mary Mueller. It includes settlement money controlled by the state and local governments.

Mueller said any future enforcement action “will depend on the results of our current work and our ongoing monitoring.”

The office is following in the footsteps of comptrollers and auditors in , , and , Tennessee, who have taken action on settlement cash.

These initial steps have given some advocates and researchers hope for the future of opioid settlement dollars, which are expected to flow for more than a decade.

“We’re already years in and we’ve seen the craziest stories” of this money and a , said , a co-author of the Reason Foundation’s model law. “If we can prevent that at least a little and have these funds be a bit more focused, I don’t think it’s too late.”

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

Overnight, a nurse aide walked into their room and saw blood splattered on the floor, walls, and ceiling, according to a grand jury transcript. Cecchetto’s face “looked twisted and smashed,” the aide testified. A Banning city police officer testified that Timaloa, 77, told him that he had punched Cecchetto twice.

“He just kept saying that Attilio was being too loud: ‘He talks too much,’” the officer said.

Cecchetto died two days later from blunt force facial trauma.

“You get placed in a facility like this to be taken care of, not to be murdered,” one of his sons, Gino Cecchetto, said in an interview. “This was completely preventable at many different points.”

Timaloa pleaded not guilty to assault. The charges were later upgraded to murder, and a judge ordered a mental health evaluation. The judge will rule as early as August on whether Timaloa is competent to stand trial.

PACS Group, the nursing home chain that owns Sunrise, denied negligence. “We strive to provide quality care to everyone we serve, and our hearts continue to go out to the Cecchetto family for their loss,” PACS spokesman Brooks Stevenson said in an email.

In nursing homes primarily occupied by impoverished people as well as posh assisted living facilities that cost upward of $10,000 a month, agitated residents have shoved, punched, bit, and kicked others. They have wielded canes, walkers, pens, a plate, a mop stick, a shoe, a belt buckle, and even the footrests of wheelchairs as weapons, federal inspection reports show.

How often these altercations take place nationwide is unknown, but an of 14 assisted living facilities in New York state led by Cornell University researchers estimated 1 in 7 residents experienced aggression within a month, including verbal, physical, or sexual acts. Their of 10 New York state nursing homes estimated 1 in 5 residents experienced an altercation in a month. Researchers have found that these assailants are to have dementia.

The diseases that cause dementia can impair brain circuits involved in impulse control and threat perception, raising the risk of aggressive behavior. Residents with Alzheimer’s disease and other dementias constitute more than living in these settings, many of which include specialized units.

Often, altercations involving a resident with dementia erupt after danger signals are missed or ineffectively addressed, according to a ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ examination of court records, police reports, and state and federal inspection reports.

Since the start of 2024, the federal Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services has faulted nursing homes at least 700 times for failing to protect residents from physical, sexual, or verbal abuse by other residents, CMS inspection reports show. The federal records do not include assisted living facilities, which are regulated by states.

In the first three months of this year, CMS cited nursing homes more often for resident-to-resident abuse than for any other type of abuse, neglect, or exploitation, including abuse by employees, the reports show.

Resident Clashes Are the Most Frequent Type of Nursing Home Abuse or Neglect

The federal government requires that nursing homes keep all residents free from abuse, neglect, misappropriation of resident property, and exploitation. In the first three months of 2026, federal inspectors cited nursing homes over resident-to-resident altercations more often than other types of mistreatment.

Note: ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ analyzed inspection citations for violations of the federal requirement to keep residents free of abuse, neglect, or exploitation. Only citations for actual harm or immediate jeopardy were examined. The analysis included inspection reports from January 2026 through March 2026.

Source: Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services nursing home <a href=” statement of deficiencies</a>, May 2026

The long-term care industry says not every clash can be averted. Presbyterian Homes & Services, a nonprofit Christian chain of senior living facilities, said in a statement: “Caring for individuals living with advanced dementia is complex, and behaviors can change in ways that are difficult to fully predict or prevent, even with clinical interventions in place.”

Eilon Caspi, a and researcher who studies resident-on-resident altercations, said that usually there is a specific unmet need that precedes an altercation. “In the vast majority of incidents,” he said, “there are warning signs in the months, weeks, days, hours, and sometimes minutes and seconds prior.”

Fertile Battlegrounds

One about Alzheimer’s, the most common dementia disease, holds that as the brain’s networks deteriorate, the balance shifts between the prefrontal cortex, which helps govern judgment and self-control, and limbic regions including the amygdala, which helps process fear and threat responses.

As cognition clouds, people lose the ability to understand what is happening around them and to put distress into words, researchers say. Pain, infection, medication side effects, and other physical and emotional distresses through shouting, intimidating gestures, kicking, pushing, or punching. Long-term care facilities can be triggering environments, with intimate care often delivered by a changing stream of aides whom residents can’t recognize. Amid noise, close quarters, and rigid routines, interactions become flash points.

“You don’t feel safe, because you don’t know these strangers who are coming in and taking off your clothes,” said Al Power, a geriatrician and an advocate for alternative models of care for people with cognitive issues. “These things will be distressing to anybody.”

The Cornell researchers found verbal altercations were the most common type of aggressive interaction but estimated 4% of assisted living residents and 5% of nursing home residents in their studies experienced physical assaults in a month.

Another Cornell study found that Connecticut police were called to nursing homes for more often than allegations of staff abuse, theft, and residents wandering away without supervision combined. A national analysis of survey data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention calculated in assisted living facilities engaged in physical aggression or abuse toward other residents or staff members.

Many of the physical aggressions ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ identified in CMS inspection reports were perpetrated by residents with diagnoses of dementia, schizophrenia, or other cognitive disorders. In some physical altercations, both residents were aggressors, while other fights were one-sided. Sometimes the residents were roommates.

Laura Mosqueda, a geriatrician at the University of Southern California’s Keck Medicine in Los Angeles and a senior adviser to the National Center on Elder Abuse, said: “What worries me is that we just end up blaming two people who have either cognitive impairment or severe, uncontrolled mental health issues, when they’re supposed to be in an environment where people are safe.”

‘Only a Matter of Time’

Gladys Lynch, a retired department store accountant, transferred into the memory care unit at Harbor Crossing in White Bear Lake, Minnesota, in September 2025. Her monthly cost was more than $10,000, according to an invoice provided by the family.

One of Lynch’s daughters, Rebecca Norton, installed web cameras in her room and often saw another resident inside. “Every day I looked at it, this woman would be walking into my mom’s room, harassing her, digging through her things, using her bathroom, yelling at her,” Norton said in an interview. She informed Harbor Crossing’s administration, and the facility said it would start locking her mother’s door.

Norton emailed a Harbor Crossing administrator a list of issues with her mother’s care. “My biggest concern,” she wrote, was that her mother’s door was not consistently locked and the webcam showed the woman had again entered, rummaged through the bathroom, and taken a couple of adult diapers.

Unknown to Norton, Harbor aides had raised concerns about the other resident, who like Lynch was new to Harbor Crossing’s memory unit, according to a . Diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, severe dementia with agitation, depression, and anxiety, the woman was confused, had difficulty communicating her needs, and hit aides.

Aides repeatedly reported that the woman had “ongoing aggression, entered other residents’ apartments, invaded others’ personal space, and was difficult to redirect,” the health report said. They said medications had been ineffective and pressed for new ones. The report said one nurse told the woman’s doctor it was “only a matter of time before” she “hurts another resident.”

Captured on Camera

On the last day of September, she entered Lynch’s room and resisted leaving, the state report said. The next morning, she reappeared. Video of the incident was described in the police and state reports and reviewed by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ. It shows Lynch guided the woman out and appeared to attempt to lock the door, but the woman opened it and returned once more.

The woman declared it was her house, went into Lynch’s bathroom, used the toilet, and then returned to the room Lynch was in. Lynch can be seen repeatedly pressing the alert pendant around her neck to signal nurses for help.

The video shows the woman was almost out of her apartment door when she attempted to touch an object near the door. Lynch put her hands up to block her. The woman slapped at her hands and said, “I’m going to kill you if you don’t quit it.” She pushed Lynch, who fell, her head hitting the floor and blood seeping out.

Aides arrived 13 minutes after she had initially pressed her pendant, the state report said. Lynch suffered a brain hemorrhage and fractures to her eye socket and ribs, according to the state report. She died in the hospital five days later at age 96; the medical examiner’s office declared it a homicide.

Norton said her mother was kind and pleasant and never combative. “My mom deserved better than what they gave her,” she said.

Prosecutors declined to bring charges, according to the police report. The Harbor Crossing was responsible for neglect because it was aware the woman “exhibited violent and aggressive behaviors” and yet had failed to put in place effective interventions. Harbor Crossing has requested the state reconsider its findings.

In June, Suzanne Scheller, the attorney for Lynch’s family, filed a wrongful death lawsuit against Presbyterian Homes, which owns Harbor Crossing.

Presbyterian said in a statement: “We are deeply saddened by the loss of Ms. Lynch, and our thoughts remain with her family and all those impacted.” It declined to comment further on the incident or the lawsuit.

Preventive Tactics

Geriatricians, researchers, and resident advocates say long-term care homes should to reduce the risk of altercations, including closer supervision of residents at high risk, relocating them closer to nursing stations, separating residents with repeated conflicts, and adjusting roommate assignments or seating in shared spaces.

Each resident should have a care plan, and homes should train staff to be alert to a resident’s triggers and intervene quickly, dementia specialists say. Organized activities are essential to keep residents occupied and engaged. Antipsychotics and other psychotropic medications are often prescribed, but they can increase the risk of falls, strokes, and .

An aide can be assigned to watch a particularly challenging resident one-on-one, but many places lack enough staff for protracted, dedicated supervision. Some assisted living facilities will tell a resident’s family they must hire a personal aide, who can cost thousands of dollars extra each month. In extreme situations, facilities might send a resident to an emergency room for evaluation or to a psychiatric hospital, or .

Camille Russell, who served as Kansas’ long-term care ombudsman until 2024, said she observed nurses and aides were often “woefully undertrained” in basic elements of dementia care.

“We’ve gotten too far away from making decisions that are caring decisions,” Russell said. “There has to be a balance, and the balance has gotten too far to the profit side.”

A Debilitating Kick

Many physical altercations between residents result in a scratch or a bruise, but nonfatal scraps can leave permanent damage on deeply frail residents.

Linda Twiddy’s first weeks in a Chesapeake, Virginia, memory care unit in August 2024 were happy, her daughter, Barbara Howerin, said in a May interview. Twiddy, a former church secretary with vascular dementia, sang along with a visiting church choir, decorated pumpkins, and visited a cat cafe. The facility, The Vero at Chesapeake, charged Twiddy a one-time $6,825 move-in fee and monthly charges of $7,475, according to the lease.

Seven weeks after Twiddy started living there, a nurse called Howerin. She told her that her mother had been kicked in an altercation with another resident and was being sent to the hospital.

When Howerin arrived at the hospital, she was shocked by the extent of the injury. “It was like 10 inches long by 6 inches wide, the whole front of her shin,” she said. “The calf was just like dangling down.”

According to an internal facility incident report the family obtained, an aide heard Twiddy scream for help and raced over to see a male resident with dementia trying to hit Twiddy as she sat on the floor in “a pool of blood.” The report said, “Linda was screaming get him away from me, he pushed and kicked me.”

The man had prior episodes of aggression, according to documents Twiddy’s family obtained in a lawsuit they brought against The Vero in Chesapeake Circuit Court. At his previous facility, a progress note from 2023 stated, he was “becoming very aggressive in tone and actions to residents and staff.” He “grabbed another resident by the wrists and pushed her,” according to the note. He was sent to an emergency room for evaluation of agitation, according to a hospital report. It did not make clear whether he was discharged back to the facility or elsewhere.

Agitation Tied to Pain

The male resident’s medical records at The Vero said he was diagnosed with late-onset Alzheimer’s disease, agitation, and anxiety, according to his doctor’s deposition. He had chronic pain in his back and trouble sleeping. He could answer simple yes-or-no questions but had trouble providing more extensive answers and couldn’t communicate that he was in pain, she testified. His behavioral changes usually occurred when he had a urinary tract infection, the doctor said.

When he was agitated, aides could sometimes calm him by turning on the television so he could watch his beloved New England Patriots, one aide testified in a deposition. A former aide said she tried to avoid dealing with him altogether. “If you go up to him and he was agitated, he’d reach out to try to grab you,” she testified. “If he had that cane, he would swing that cane or he would punch at you.”

In a court filing, The Vero denied allegations by Twiddy’s family that it should have protected residents from him. The filing said The Vero complied with all standards of care and that any injuries Twiddy sustained “were caused by her own negligence” or acts of others.

In their investigation of the incident, Virginia regulators alleged The Vero had for the health, safety, and well-being of its residents. The inspection report said The Vero pledged to appropriately staff the memory care unit based on the number of residents and to ensure someone completed rounds at least every two hours during sleeping hours.

Twiddy underwent three surgeries at the hospital for her leg, including a skin graft, then spent a month in rehabilitation. “She was never able to walk again,” her son, Doug Twiddy, said in a May interview.

The family moved Linda Twiddy to a different memory care facility where the nursing station had a clear view of all the rooms. She lived there until her death earlier this year.

The lawsuit was settled on confidential terms in early June. Carlton Bennett, the family’s attorney, declined to comment. In an email, Lauren Rogers, a spokesperson for Sinceri Senior Living, which operates The Vero, said the company was pleased the legal case had been resolved but could not comment further, citing confidentiality and patient privacy.

“The Vero at Chesapeake is committed to providing a caring, supportive environment where resident health, safety, and well-being remain our highest priorities,” she said.

A History of Violence

After Attilio Cecchetto was fatally bludgeoned at Sunrise Post Acute, his adult children and their attorney, Jody Moore, discovered disturbing details about Sam Ato Timaloa. He had been imprisoned in 1999 after being convicted of raping an underage girl and sentenced in 2008 to 24 years in prison for attempted murder involving domestic violence, according to Riverside County court records. His public defender declined to comment.

Cecchetto’s sons, Moore, and her colleagues at Moore Hutchins Moore also learned more about the home’s owner, PACS Group, a publicly traded company with more than 300 long-term care facilities. Last year, PACS earned $191 million on revenue of $5.3 billion, according to its .

In the Cecchettos and their father’s widow filed against PACS, they accused the company’s founders, Jason Murray and Mark Hancock, of draining resources from their nursing homes to pay for the chain’s expansion and swell their personal wealth.

The two had earned more than $650 million through stock sales since taking the company public and bought two private luxury jets, according to the lawsuit and securities filings. PACS has also purchased corporate sponsorships for Utah sports teams even though it owns no nursing homes in the state, the lawsuit said.

California regulators fined Sunrise $120,000 for Cecchetto and for not taking Timaloa’s articulated dislike of noise into account when assigning rooms. Medicare issued its own $62,810 fine.

In responding to the Cecchettos’ lawsuit, PACS denied negligence for his death and alleged he “failed to exercise ordinary care on his own behalf for his own safety.” It has sued to overturn the $120,000 state fine, saying it was issued too late and that Sunrise “did what might reasonably be expected of a long-term health care facility licensee acting under similar circumstances” to comply with state rules.

The Cecchettos’ lawsuit asks for a judge to impose robust procedures PACS homes must follow for admissions, staff training, room changes, and the reporting of altercations between residents. The suit asks for a court-appointed monitor to oversee compliance. In its written statement to ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, PACS said “important context” would come out during the process and declined further comment.

In an interview, Cecchetto’s three sons, Dino, Gino, and Marco Cecchetto, described their father’s life. He spent his childhood on a farm in Italy, growing up under Benito Mussolini. After World War II he moved to Canada, where he learned to tile and lay marble and terrazzo, a decorative flooring material made of chips of stone, glass, or other materials embedded in cement or resin. He relocated to California in the early 1960s, became naturalized, and worked as a tile journeyman and a contractor for decades.

“We don’t want this to happen to somebody again,” Gino Cecchetto said. “With the life he led, he deserved a quiet, dignified death. Instead, he ended his life in pain and fear.”

Data Methodology

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ analysis of federal nursing home inspection reports focused on citations for violations of stating that each resident has the right to be free of abuse, neglect, and exploitation.

The analysis looked at the most serious levels of citations, those in which inspectors determined that one or more residents had been harmed, or that the facility’s actions caused — or were likely to place residents in immediate jeopardy of — serious injury, harm, impairment, or death. We reviewed the reports since January 2024 and tallied those that explicitly described resident-to-resident altercations.

We conducted a more granular analysis of a subset of the inspection reports from January through March 2026 involving harm or immediate jeopardy. Each report was reviewed and categorized by the type of abuse, neglect, or exploitation.

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

A Tragic, Deadly Denial

I read your article in The Washington Post about the woman whose Humana policy required prior authorization for a drug she’d been taking (Bill of the Month: “She Struggled To Get a Lifesaving Drug Even After Insurers Vowed To Help,” June 29).

My husband, Kenney, had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. On June 7, he fatally shot himself after a COPD exacerbation event.

His pulmonologist had prescribed two new nebulizer prescriptions on June 2. One was a specialty medication that would come directly from the drug company. A couple of days later, we called Walgreens to see why the other one hadn’t been filled. Turns out it required prior authorization.

Why the doctor who prescribed it needed to tell his health insurer that he really did think his patient needed it, I will never understand. The pharmacist said she would send the request to the doctor. And why she hadn’t already done that, again, I do not understand. By June 7, of course, it still wasn’t filled.

That day, a Sunday, Kenney experienced the flare-up when I was out mowing the yard. How terrifying it must have been for him to be unable to breathe and me not being there at least to hold his hand. That night he killed himself, leaving a note saying that he hated to leave me but that he couldn’t keep living like that — with the constant anxiety of not knowing when he wouldn’t be able to draw a breath.

Not long ago, a “welcome” packet came in the mail about the other nebulizer treatment — 25 days after it had been prescribed.

Admittedly, my husband’s health was not great. He did have COPD, but we still went out to eat once in a while, and he didn’t have to take his oxygen on those trips. He rarely used it just walking around the house.

He did make a serious suicide attempt six years ago (our daughter and granddaughter had died), but after seeing what it did to me and our son, he promised he’d never do it again. It was only when these exacerbation/flare-up events started this year that he indicated life was getting bad.

Perhaps, just perhaps, if he had received both medications in a timely manner, he would be here today, and we would have had many more years together. We met when we were 16 and had been together ever since. He was 78 when he died.

— Cindy Clements Blewett; Kyle, Texas

Navigating GLP-1 Coverage

Sydney Lupkin’s thoughtful article about the obstacles in obtaining weight loss drugs was interesting (Healthcare Helpline: “Trouble Getting Weight Loss Drugs Covered by Insurance? Here’s What To Know,” June 26). It would have been more helpful had it included a discussion of Medicare’s decision to cover these drugs as of July 1, 2026, and how to navigate the rocky shores of obtaining a prescription that won’t be denied.

— Sharie Hartman; Manteca, California

Beyond the Veil of Pregnancy Centers

I would like to address the article about a pregnancy resource center providing prenatal care in Sandpoint, Idaho (“Religious Anti-Abortion Center Finds Opportunity in Town Without OB-GYNs,” May 20). It is unfortunate that many still do not understand what pregnancy resource centers do, nor the high-quality care they provide. While there are some “crisis pregnancy centers” that provide limited offerings, most centers are aligned with a national organization like the National Institute of Family and Life Advocates, the Heartbeat Pregnancy Center, or Care Net. All these organizations require centers to have a medical director (a licensed healthcare practitioner) and require that the nurses who perform the ultrasounds have appropriate training. While I am not affiliated with 7B Care Clinic, I am concerned that the article may not have accurately reflected what is provided in such clinics. I offer my experiences to bring further clarity.

I work at a life-affirming women’s clinic. I am a board-certified family physician. I have delivered approximately 1,000 babies in my career. I have been performing ultrasounds for my patients for over a decade, and fought for this ability under the scrutiny of maternal-fetal medicine specialists, spending time alongside their registered diagnostic medical sonographer technicians, and having my scans reviewed by maternal-fetal medicine physicians. I have practiced medicine in three states over three decades.

Second, while I am life-affirming, I am not “anti-abortion.” I happen to believe that there are better choices, and I know that some women will still choose abortion, even after hearing all their options. I will gladly see those women for follow-up to answer questions and evaluate for complications — something that the abortion clinics in my area apparently will not do. I say this because that is what the women I see tell me. The clinic that performed the procedure or gave them the pills will not see a patient after the abortion for any follow-up. I have always willingly seen patients for any reason, whether I was working at a private clinic or hospital-owned clinic. That is no different now that I work for a life-affirming women’s clinic.

We provide a variety of services — free of charge. We are also stepping up to provide prenatal care up to 20 weeks because there is a shortage of obstetrical clinicians in our county. We encourage women to see a clinic where they can be followed throughout the entire pregnancy, if possible, and we are in no way marketing ourselves as competition. We are stepping in to fill the large gap that exists.

Just because the clinic in Sandpoint chooses to respect life does not make it a fake clinic. This clinic seeks to bring in physicians to provide prenatal care. They are bringing in OB-GYNs from Washington state, which has no restrictions on abortion. With this information taken into consideration, I ask you to reconsider any concerns about a clinic bringing board-certified OB-GYNs into an area where there is a shortage.

— James Heid, Vancouver, Washington

The Root of All Good

The article Claudia Boyd-Barrett wrote about how immigrant parents’ arrests are creating a mental health crisis for children was moving and brought awareness to the mental health challenges faced by them (Growing Up Scared: “Arrests of Immigrant Parents Create Mental Health Crisis for Children,” June 18). It was important to note how every story was different but focused on how much children missed and yearned for their parents to come back home. You also wrote about how it affected them by not having a parental figure in the home. That really touched me. Specifically, Jacob’s story and when he listed all the things he missed about his mom but especially being close to her.

I am currently a master’s student in social work working to become a better ally to the Hispanic immigrant community. I’ve seen how being afraid and sad over the immigration policies has affected my friends in this community. Losing a close parent and not being able to have that security with them anymore is hard to go through, and trauma affects children as they grow.

In this article, you have recognized the worth of a person, which is a core principle in social work. These children are worthy and have the right to feel taken care of and secure.

I would love to see more mental health services accessible to immigrant communities and their families. This would benefit children as they learn to cope with their feelings and how to make sense of a new world.

— Stacy Xiong, Athens, Georgia

Bagging a Bargain

Author Susan Jaffe mentioned GoodRx in the article “Thousands of Medicare Beneficiaries Thought Their Drug Plan Was Free. Then They Lost It” (July 7), but she failed to mention a much better discount drug site, Mark Cuban’s costplusdrugs.com, where a 90-day supply of 2.5 milligrams of rivaroxaban, a generic for Xarelto, is available for under $50. This could help the thousands of people who lost coverage through unpaid premiums from Wellcare Value Script obtain their medications. The problem of yearly increasing penalties for losing Part D coverage is something that has to be addressed by the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services.

Thanks to ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ for the relevant coverage.

— Jackie Button; Miami

Fleshing Out the Details

Your report identifying alpha-gal syndrome as a red meat allergy is accurate in that respect but inadequate in its breadth (“Would Hunters Take a Lyme Disease Vaccine? We Asked,” June 30). Alpha-gal is an allergic reaction to virtually all mammalian products. If you explore that, you’ll find an interesting story, as mammalian products are everywhere, including in pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, and other non-meat products. Alpha-gal is growing rapidly, and too many people, including doctors, do not realize that AGS is far worse than just a red meat allergy.

I suggest you help build understanding of the threat by describing the allergy in the future as an allergy to mammalian products. If you do not think your audience will understand that term, perhaps you can explain that it includes pork and anything derived from animals with hooves. As a former and now retired reporter, I encourage you to cover this allergy because its implications are surprising and scary.

— John Varner, Surry, Virginia

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

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

Eight days before my 33rd birthday in April, a social worker at a crisis clinic near Denver determined I was an imminent danger to myself. She placed me on an involuntary 72-hour mental health hold.

What came next wasn’t treatment, but a search for a bed. Clinic staffers called area hospitals with inpatient psychiatric units, asking if they had available beds. They didn’t. So, I was told I had to spend the night at the clinic, which is open 24/7. I settled into a recliner, trying to make myself comfortable as my mind drifted in a blank, disassociated haze. Sleep came in brief bursts.

Since the 1950s, the United States has seen a nationwide due in part to deinstitutionalization and the rise of antipsychotics. But that has created a critical shortage for those needing help. From 2011 to 2023, the number of hospitals with inpatient psychiatric units , according to a 2025 study. Another study from that year found that this country has 28.4 inpatient psychiatric beds per 100,000 people — not even half the 60-bed ratio researchers frequently refer to as the .

The shortage has created what the American Psychiatric Association : emergency rooms overwhelmed with people suffering from severe mental health illnesses, inpatient stays prematurely shortened to speed up bed turnover, and acutely ill individuals left without critical care.

“Where are these people going?” said , an assistant health policy professor at Rutgers University, who co-authored those 2025 studies. “For people who don’t receive this care, they don’t just go away. How is it affecting them? Society? Their families?”

Meanwhile, the White House shut down the part of the national suicide hotline catering to LGBTQ+ youth, President Donald Trump’s 2027 budget proposal calls for cuts to agencies , and Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. recently announced a plan to .”

A Fractured System

I was already intimately familiar with the country’s fractured mental healthcare system before I was involuntarily committed. What I had yet to experience myself, I saw through my wife: waitlists, outpatient programs stretched beyond capacity, and inpatient psychiatric care so scarce that access often depends on surviving a crisis severe enough to justify it.

She died by suicide after we had separated.

As the years passed, grief and anxiety pushed me from observer to patient.

At the crisis clinic, I woke up the following morning disoriented and groggy. In the bathroom — its door deliberately unable to latch, swinging both ways so staffers could enter in case of an emergency — I stood at the sink and watched the faucet run, trying to piece together how I had ended up here.

America’s history of treating mental illness is long and complicated.

The 19th and 20th centuries saw the removal of people with severe mental disorders from jails and — squalid facilities designed to house the poor — to state asylums that (though they ultimately became ). From the 1860s to the 1930s, the number of psychiatric hospitals increased dramatically, according to the American Psychiatric Association, and by 1955, the number of psychiatric beds in the U.S. peaked at more than half a million.

However, owing to the development of antipsychotics, the belief that psychiatric institutions were inhumane, and President John F. Kennedy’s 1963 to free thousands of Americans from a life in institutions, many state hospitals shut down. An estimated for adults and kids are left in a country where more than 14 million experience severe mental illness each year.

Two years after JFK’s legislation passed, a new policy prohibited federal Medicaid funds from covering inpatient psychiatric care in facilities . The goal was to encourage states to move patients out of large, often substandard psychiatric institutions into community-based care settings.

The consequences of these changes, however, have been far-ranging. People with severe mental illnesses are often forced to as they wait for a bed to open. The length of stay in state psychiatric hospitals , according to research by the Treatment Advocacy Center, a national organization focused on eliminating barriers to the treatment of severe mental illness. And some people with mental illness .

From 1986 to 2014, as the behavioral health crisis intensified, mental health expenditures in the U.S. rose from $32 billion to $186 billion — though the proportion of that spending allocated to inpatient care .

This period also recorded major policy shifts affecting inpatient hospitalization rates, notably the 1999 U.S. Supreme Court decision in Olmstead v. L.C. The ruling shifted care away from psychiatric facilities by mandating states to people with developmental and mental disabilities.

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” said Leslie Carpenter, legislative advocacy manager at the Treatment Advocacy Center. “A lot of these bills, including the Community Mental Health Act, were really well intended and ended up with adverse consequences.”

For me, that next day at the clinic passed both painfully slowly and in a blur. A staff member I hadn’t met before told me they were still reaching out to hospitals across the region. The search for a bed continued.

‘No One Wants To Pay for Any of This Care’

Last year, members of Congress introduced two bills to change the 16-bed Medicaid funding cap at inpatient psychiatric facilities, the and the , which would increase the cap to 36 beds. Both have stalled in the House.

According to the Congressional Budget Office, a federal agency that analyzes budgetary and economic issues, eliminating the 16-bed limit would increase Medicaid expenditures from 2024 to 2033.

“No one wants to pay for any of this care that people need,” said Colorado state Sen. , a Democrat who has witnessed limitations to Colorado’s mental healthcare system firsthand because her son has schizoaffective disorder.

In lieu of federal action, states are stepping up to bridge the gaps.

Colorado, 15 other states, and Washington, D.C., now operate under waivers allowing Medicaid to fund inpatient facilities for mental health treatment, according to KFF data. Seven additional states have waivers pending. One 2025 study found that these waivers may be tied to fewer hospitalizations, emergency department visits, and incarcerations .

Yet even local efforts to improve mental healthcare face resistance. In California, Colorado, Iowa, Missouri, Nebraska, and New York, locals have pushed back against proposed psychiatric facilities for minors, claiming such facilities will worsen safety and lower property values. Behavioral health advocates have disputed these claims and argued they are rooted in stigma.

That psychiatric facility in Colorado was . The state has nearly 20 inpatient beds per 100,000 people, , according to 2022 data across all 50 states plus Washington, D.C., collected by the Treatment Advocacy Center. Wyoming ranked first with 47.3 beds per 100,000 residents, although, as the least populous state, it has only 275 total inpatient beds compared with California’s 5,703. Minnesota ranked last, with only 4.3 inpatient beds per 100,000 residents.

While increasing the number of inpatient psychiatric beds is vital, mental health advocates are also calling for , such as peer support specialists and clubhouses, where people with serious mental illnesses can learn life skills and find community.

When it came time for me to use our mental health safety net, I was among the fortunate ones: At noon the day after my hold began, a bed opened at a hospital in Denver — a rare stroke of luck in a system in which many people wait days or weeks for the care they need. An ambulance transferred me to the hospital at 3 p.m., marking 21 hours into my 72-hour hold.

Two days later, on my last day at the psychiatric hospital, I stood outside the nurse’s station awaiting discharge papers.

A man I had not seen before looked at me and asked, “Are you leaving?”

“Yes,” I said. “Are you being admitted?”

“Yeah,” he responded. “This is my third time being hospitalized in a year.”

I shook his hand. “Good luck,” I said, and I walked out the door.

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

We’re expecting our first baby boy in end of August. And when I think about what it’s going to feel like to take care of my wife and my new son and my mom, it’s a bit overwhelming.

If you are taking care of a child and you have a parent over 65, you’re among millions across the U.S. in the same life stage.

Nearly a quarter of all American adults — and half of all adults in their 40s — fall into this “sandwich generation” category, . And being in the middle of that sandwich can feel … intense.

“I have kind of prided myself on being self-sufficient. And in this season of life, that’s almost been laughable,” said Jason McAnally, a Nashville father of two who helps care for his aging dad.

HealthQ hosts Cara Anthony of ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and Blake Farmer of Nashville Public Radio, both in the sandwich generation themselves, are your approachable guides to an unapproachable healthcare system. In this one-hour special about navigating health and caregiving, they tap researchers, physicians, experts, and their own personal experience to explore:

• Identity: When to start calling yourself a caregiver, and why it matters.
• FMLA: How to start a conversation with your boss about taking federally protected leave from work.
• Kids and mental health: How to know it’s time to take an anxious child to therapy.
• Early-onset cancer: What you need to know about spotting diseases that are on the rise among people under 50.

The HealthQ team acknowledges the messiness, the humor, and the beauty of this season of life. Come on the journey with us.

Can’t see the audio player? Visit kffhealthnews.org to listen.

This installment is part of HealthQ’s reporting on caregiving among the sandwich generation. For more, check out the series archive.

HealthQ is a health series from reporters Cara Anthony and Blake Farmer, approachable guides to an unapproachable healthcare system. It’s a collaboration between Nashville Public Radio and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

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