Aneri Pattani is a health reporter at Philadelphia Media Network, focusing on health issues among young people. Before moving to the City of Brotherly Love, she was an assistant producer on the health team at WNYC, delving into the healthcare system's failure to support adults with developmental disabilities and tracking down stories about childhood lead exposure in New York City. In the past, she's worked as a James Reston reporting fellow on the health/science desk at The New York Times, and traveled to Liberia on a reporting trip with columnist Nicholas Kristof. She has also written for The Boston Globe, The Texas Tribune, CNBC and The Hartford Courant. Originally from Connecticut, she spent four years in Boston and considers herself a New England girl at heart.
Mobile, Ala., like other communities benefiting from opioid settlement dollars, weighs whether to treat people in crisis now or invest in long-term solutions to cut future addiction rates.
Some candidates for governor are sparring over bragging rights for their state's share of opioid settlement funds. Some are attorneys general who pursued the lawsuits that produced the payouts.
Some state and local governments have started tapping in to opioid settlement funds for law enforcement expenses. Many argue it should go toward treating addiction instead.
State attorneys general vowed the funds would go toward tackling the addiction crisis. But as with the tobacco payouts of the 1990s, local officials have started using them to fill budget shortfalls.
As money is funneled to states, opioid councils wield significant power in determining how it gets spent. They face concerns about conflicts of interest and lack of representation by affected groups.
KFF Health News obtained documents showing the exact dollar amounts — down to the cent — that local governments have been paid in 2022 and 2023 in lawsuit settlements from the opioid crisis.
Getting a mental health diagnosis is a powerful thing. It can make you feel less alone, but it can also impact or alter your sense of identity.
Billions of dollars are headed to state and local governments to address the opioid crisis. If the federal government fails to oversee how the money is spent, advocates worry it will be wasted.
All told, drugmakers and distributors will pay over $50 billion to communities harmed by opioids. An investigation finds that only a dozen states are letting the public see how they use the money.
The cash represents an unprecedented opportunity to derail the opioid epidemic. But with countless groups advocating for a share of the pie, the impact could depend heavily on geography and politics.
Some credit cards advertised by hospitals lure in patients with rosy promises of convenient, low-interest payments on big bills. But interest rates soar if you can't quickly pay off the loan.
New policies to keep medical bills from sinking credit ratings sound good but will likely fall short for many hit hardest by debt — especially Black Americans in the South, such as Penelope Wingard.
Medical debt can ruin people's credit rating — making it hard to get a loan, mortgage or credit card. People of color are most impacted by this issue and programs designed to help are falling short.
Mental health advocates celebrated the launch of the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, but some people voiced concerns that using the service could lead to police involvement or forced hospitalization.
More than 100 million people in the U.S. have medical debt, which can ruin credit and deplete savings. One woman who was hounded for years by debt collectors for a bill she never should have gotten.
Medical debt can ruin lives, and in many states patients have few financial protections. North Carolina is considering a new law that could lead the way in shielding patients from high medical bills.
First, they were struck by illness and then by medical bills they couldn't pay. Here are seven stories of Americans living under the shadow of health care debt.
With opioid overdoses surging, harm-reduction groups are calling on the FDA to change naloxone's prescription-only status. This would make it easier to get the lifesaving drug to people at risk.
The new strategy is called "postvention." It means having a plan built on truth, compassion and counseling that quickly addresses the mental health needs of friends and classmates after a suicide.
A West Virginia pharmacist wanted to help those hit by the opioid crisis. But a few years after he began providing medications to treat addiction, drug enforcement raided his pharmacy.