College Football and Healthcare: The Uncomfortable Parallel

Over the weekend, I caught parts of North Carolina’s 15-10 win over TCU in Dublin, Ireland and NC State’s loss to Virginia 34-8 in the ACC opener. All told, the NCAA Week Zero schedule included 8 games with few surprises but a welcome arrival to the sport’s avid followers including me.

As the NCAA commences its Week One schedule with 87 games Thursday thru Monday on tap, I find myself conflicted. I am a college football fan having watched religiously for years. Growing up in Chattanooga, Thanksgiving Day started with worship at Central Church of Christ, lunch at S&W Cafeteria downtown and Chamberlin Field in the afternoon to watch the University of Chattanooga Moccasins take on the likes of Southern MS and Furman. And News Year’s Day Bowl games were equally sacred: the Cotton, Gator, Orange, Sugar and Rose Bowls featured marque teams who’d survived to 10-game seasons and final rankings were determined by sports media. Pop would re-locate our second black and white TV to the den so we could watch 2 at once (provided the rabbit ears were aimed right). And Mimi made unhealthy Vienna sausage wraps so we never had to leave the room.

Those days are gone. That was before NIL (name, image and likeness) money poured in to lure elite athletes to the highest bidders. That was before the 5 major bowl games played on New Year’s Day morphed into 46 bowl games lollapalooza played over 45 days. That was when the Big 10 had 10 mostly midwestern teams (vs. 18 today including Oregon, Washington, USC and UCLA) and the SEC had 12 mostly southeastern teams vs. 16 today which include Teas and Oklahoma this year. And that was when a family of four could afford to attend a game: per StubHub, tickets for my most cherished contests this season will be $550 to $9093 for Texas-Ohio State September 12, and $434 for the “get in” seats to $4657 for the Michigan-Ohio State matchup November 28.

On Bill Maher Saturday night, Wesleyan University President Michael Roth answered the hyper- cynical host’ questions about the value of higher education and left-leaning faculty bias. Wesleyan is among the three “Little Ivies” (along with Amherst and Williams) where the curriculum is liberal arts, tuition is high, intercollegiate athletic competition is modest and politics is decidedly progressive—a “monoculture” per Roth. Maher questioned whether higher education today educates young adults to be informed, critical thinkers or indoctrinates leftist ideology. Roth countered that college faculty engage students to be thoughtful on issues otherwise overlooked/neglected.  Maher ended ‘it’s not working.’

Their dialogue might have been about healthcare. The health system, like higher education, faces a crisis of confidence and its future is being defined by its finances. The health system’s version of NIL centers on aim now centers on business models for specialty services in modern facilities. The Big Players in both industries– consolidated hospital systems, big multi-specialty medical groups, corporate insurers and universities with Big Endowments and Big Athletic Department budgets– are doing well while others struggle.

Higher education and healthcare face extinction as we’ve known them. The public thinks their purpose has been compromised by their growing dependence on private capital—boosters, donors, investors, private equity, and corporate partners. Public money plays a small role for the Big Players. The unintended consequences are well documented—higher prices for tuition and services, variable levels of institutional quality based on access to funds, and increased polarization between have’s and have nots.

In healthcare, it’s no secret. Physicians who specialize make 3 times what primary care clinicians earn and 10 times community health worker annual wages. The 2Q earnings of the nation’s multi-hospital systems were robust per Fitch while small and independent hospitals struggled. The same dynamic holds true for nursing homes, health insurers and public health programs—Darwinian reality that money matters (sometimes too much). In healthcare, it’s manifest in a growing number of shifts…

  • CMS’ crackdown on fraud, waste and abuse to protect public money is healthcare.
  • Congress’ Bipartisan demand for price transparency and limits on private equity ownership of nursing homes, hospitals and medical practices.
  • Court challenges to monopolistic-like business practices that control licensing, drug patents or even the CPT coding system.
  • Public belief that an unforeseen medical bill will bankrupt the average household.
  • The public’s growing acceptance of embracing alternative sites and methods of care and ways of paying for them.
  • And recognition by industry leaders that industries like healthcare and higher education face uncertain futures.

I will watch college football this weekend and, no doubt, hear lots about star players one year removed from their previous NIL contracts. They’re usually the highest paid and best known on the team. And, for some of that team’s followers, their performance on the field will matter more than their education off the field and the academic performance of the school.

Healthcare and higher education are institutions of noble, essential purpose to society. Both face criticism they’ve lost their way and their value propositions are suspect.

PS: Last week, Dolly Parton died leaving a legacy of music and philanthropy appreciated worldwide. I first met Dolly and Carl as he inspected the paving job his company completed in my neighborhood and later as a Vanderbilt Medical Center donor ambassador. A life well-lived and worthy of respect and appreciation.

This week, a jury verdict is expected in the trial of Lindsay Clancy that will put the spotlight on postpartum psychosis — a rare, severe psychiatric emergency that causes a rapid loss of touch with reality after childbirth. It’s is not currently included in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5), but there’s momentum to have it added.

Why the “Four Walls” of the Hospital Are Vanishing as Nursing and HR Find Common Ground

https://mailchi.mp/d09a72521e3c/why-the-four-walls-of-the-hospital-are-vanishing-as-nursing-and-hr-find-common-ground?e=71a6a1464f

Yes, I’m still talking about it: Last week at our CEO Exchange in Avon, Colorado, even more became very clear: if you’re still thinking of a hospital as a destination, you’re already behind.

I’ve been watching health system strategy evolve, but the conversations I heard in the Rockies felt like a definitive pivot. The “four walls” of the hospital are officially a thing of the past. CEOs are now designing systems around an ambulatory-first, “no wrong door” philosophy.

We heard about integrated care sites that mash together primary care, behavioral health, dental, and even optometry under one roof. One of my favorite moments was hearing two CEOs who, historically, were supposed to spend their careers hating each other, decided instead to build a shared walk-in clinic.

It turns out that when leaders stop protecting their turf and start looking at what the community actually needs, everyone—including the bottom line—wins.

But how do you scale that without losing your soul? That’s the part that always gives the C-suite a headache. The consensus in the room was pretty straightforward: centralize the “boring” stuff like revenue cycle and marketing (hey, I didn’t say it!!), but keep decision-making local. As one executive put it, “Implementation is local. If the people on the front lines feel like they’re just taking orders from a corporate office three states away, your strategy is dead on arrival.

Also today, a reality check on the relationship between nursing and HR.

Jennifer Spinelli, director of system talent acquisition at Beebe Healthcare, joins us on HL Shorts to discuss a disconnect I’ve seen play out in a hundred different ways. You have nurse leaders who are feeling the immediate, visceral burn of a staffing gap on the floor, and TA leaders who are trying to balance that urgency with the cold reality of the labor market.

How do you bridge that gap without someone ending up frustrated? It comes back to transparency and shared data. When everyone is looking at the same map, it’s a lot easier to agree on the destination.

Both stories point to a new era of healthcare leadership that values partnership over competition and operational alignment over corporate mandates. Whether you’re building a new clinic or a new workforce pipeline, the most successful leaders are the ones willing to tear down the silos they spent years building.

The $490,000 Denial

An emergency helicopter flight, life-saving surgeries and a health insurer that said it wasn’t medically necessary.

When Pamela Talley came home from an Arizona cycling vacation with a surgically repaired broken left wrist and elbow, she knew – as a retired family physician – that she’d be facing a tough recovery.

What the 62-year-old Colorado retiree wasn’t expecting was the letter she received not long after she got home last year from her health insurer, Anthem Blue Cross and Blue Shield. It informed Talley that her hospitalization in Tucson – where they’d helicoptered her after the nasty gravel spill which left part of her broken wrist protruding through her skin – was “medically unnecessary,” and the two emergency surgeries were not covered by her policy, either.

It said that she would be responsible for the medical costs that Anthem — which is part of the giant for-profit insurance conglomerate called Elevance Health — would not cover: $490,000.

“I’m still on narcotics,” Talley recalled of that moment. “I’m three days post-op. I’m in pain. I’m in a pretty vulnerable position. But my initial reaction – honestly, I think – as a physician was, ‘This is preposterous. I’m going to be able to resolve this with a telephone call.’”

Talley was not able to resolve this with a telephone call. Instead, the letter was just the beginning of an ordeal that lasted for 13 months and involved many two-hour phone calls, often waiting on hold, contradictory statements and explanations, and finally a plea for state regulators to help convince her insurer to pay.

The enormous dollar figure makes Talley’s battle somewhat unique, but receiving an insurance company denial letter is an experience that is painfully familiar to millions of Americans – and the problem is only getting worse. Exact numbers are hard to come by, but one 2023 study of patients covered in the Affordable Care Act (ACA) Marketplace found insurers initially denied 20% of claims.

Studies have also shown that it’s highly possible that patients who appeal these rejections can get them overturned, and yet very few – as few as 1%, it’s been reported – actually do fight back against rejections. Talley’s case arguably is a window into why, and why insurers count on this lack of appeals as they post record profits every year. Studies have shown that the cost of coverage denials falls hardest on lower-income Americans who lack the time and resources to fight back.

If a doctor like Talley with a lifetime of health care experience had to fight for more than a year for a fair resolution, what chance do the rest of us have?

Talley retired early from her second career in public health to move back to Colorado, where she had planted some roots and could better indulge her passion for the great outdoors. It was that hobby that took her with her two adult sons on the bicycle tour on scenic gravel trails in Arizona, near the border with Mexico.

On the second day of that excursion, Talley was moving quickly downhill on what the guides called a difficult “technical stretch,” and was clipped into her bicycle, when she fell – hard. As she lay on the gravel, she looked at her left arm, which she’d used to break the fall. Her wrist was clearly broken – a part of the bone was protruding through the skin – and it appeared her elbow was broken as well.

Between the pain and the remote site of the accident, Talley’s insurance coverage wasn’t on the top of her mind as the tour van trailing the cyclers picked her up and began the arduous task of getting her the urgent medical care she needed. It took two hours just to get to an emergency clinic near the border, where she was sedated, X-rayed, had the wrist placed in a splint – and where it was decided she’d need to get to a Level 1 trauma center. The nearest one was in Tucson, which was five hours away by car or 45 minutes by medical helicopter.

Knowing the risks of delaying an operation, she chose the helicopter.

“It was clear I needed surgery,” she recalled. But getting to Tucson was only the first step. “They see me, then I sit on a gurney in the hall in the emergency department for about eight hours,” she recalled. And then, because they had no beds upstairs, I was ultimately put into the labor and delivery ward overnight because that’s where they had a bed.”

Finally, she underwent two separate surgeries with hand and elbow specialists over a period that lasted nearly a day, as well as a procedure to alleviate nerve pressure. Talley would spend a couple nights in the hospital, first to get intravenous antibiotics and for observation, and also until she could arrange a flight back to Denver.

“So the day after I got back to Denver, I got a notice from Anthem that my $490,000 hospitalization bill was denied as medically unnecessary,” Talley said.

Too young for Medicare when she retired, Talley had signed up for Anthem’s high-deductible health insurance plan in the Affordable Care Act Marketplace. She said she knew she’d be liable for the first $10,000 or so in annual medical expenses, and she was OK with that. But she said she never expected that the giant insurer would find a plethora of grounds for not covering her emergency – that out-of-state care wasn’t eligible, or that her surgeons were out-of-network, or that some of her treatment was excessive.

Talley waited a couple days until she felt better to call Anthem, and then waited two hours to speak with someone who contradicted himself on the call, first stating that the denied care wasn’t medically necessary and then saying that actually the issue was that it occurred in Arizona and not in Colorado.

“Preposterous,” she said. “Come on, this was an emergency. It’s not like I went to get a hip replacement at the Mayo Clinic, which is what my plan is trying to prevent.” The Anthem representative promised her case would be reviewed, but nothing happened for a couple of months.

As bills for Talley’s complicated care trickled in, she was befuddled to see which services were covered and which were not. For example, Anthem was paying the anesthesiologist for her operation, but not the surgeons.

By now, Talley was calling Anthem about every three weeks, typically spending a couple of hours on hold each time. “I would get to a person, this conversation would start and they would hang up on me. And it got to the point where I felt like, oh, there’s a pop-up that says, ‘Hang up on this person. She’s persistent.’”

Talley filed a formal appeal within the six-month time period, and – again, with significant delay – finally received the guidelines for this policy upon which she argued that all of her care should have been covered. When Anthem denied her appeals, she looked into hiring a lawyer when she learned from a family member that the Colorado Department of Insurance had helped resolve a disputed claim for a much smaller amount. Talley convinced the state agency to help intervene in her matter.

Her last-gasp plea for government intervention worked, as regulators reminded Anthem of relevant state and federal statutes – such as the 2022 No Surprises Bill – intended to ensure claims such as Talley’s are covered. Still, the bills were resolved in pieces, not one fell swoop. By this spring, Talley was down from the initial $490,000 to one final $135 radiology bill, yet she continued to contest it.

“I’m stubborn,” she said with a laugh, and ultimately Anthem paid that bill as well. It took 13 months, but Talley ultimately only paid the $10,000 under her deductible.

But the big picture, unfortunately, is that there are too many other cases like Talley’s out there, and the number is likely to rise. For one thing, artificial intelligence, or AI, is increasingly used by Big Insurance to review claims, and often deny them, in the most coldly calculating fashion.

But also, the refusal late last year by the Republican-led Congress to extend subsidies that allowed millions of Americans to afford their monthly ACA premiums has forced many families to seek inferior alternatives – including high-deductible plans such as Talley’s. These policies typically have more loopholes that insurers can invoke to deny claims – exactly what happened to Talley.

However, as Talley herself pointed out, the tiny minority of patients who appeal these denials are often successful, especially when they are persistent, or make use of every available resource. For example, one KFF survey of 2022 data found that appeals of insurance companies’ prior authorization rejections successfully overturned them more than 82% of the time.

She also advised patients to study their insurers’ guidelines ahead of time. “I had never read my contract in detail,” Talley said. “What’s covered, what’s not covered. I’d never had the reason to do that, but now I know.”

Today, recovered from her Arizona accident, Talley is looking forward to her next outdoorsy travel adventure, in Europe. This time, she said she won’t clip into her bicycle – and she’s also getting trip insurance. She said: “I don’t want to not do things that have some risk, you know?”

Help! Do I have to pay for the hospital’s $47,000 mistake?

They were late filing a claim. Now I’m in collections.

Hey there —

I get a lot of questions from An Arm and a Leg listeners. Sometimes I write back with advice. So: Why not share? Welcome to an experiment: Our occasional advice column!

Maybe let’s call it: Can they freaking DO that?!?

Disclaimer: I don’t know everything, I’m not a lawyer, and I haven’t done new reporting for this. It’s the kind of advice I’d give a friend.

Or, in this case, a listener named Chris.

Q: Can they charge me $47,000 for their mistake?

I had an emergency appendectomy. The hospital rang me up for about $47,000 — but, insurance denied the claim because they say the hospital didn’t submit it to them until eight months after the fact — beyond their 60-day “timely filing” limit in the contract [between the hospital and the insurance company].

After that, the hospital started billing me.

I have spent hours and hours on the phone over the last two months with various people in their billing department. I followed their recommendation to send a letter, and an email, requesting that they write off these charges since it was their billing error — and nothing has been fixed.

Now they’ve sent me to collections.

What do I do now? Do I sue? How can I sue? Help!

Chris

A: Don’t run for a lawyer (yet)

Chris, thanks so much for writing in — and YIKES.

I think you’re zeroing in on the right question, which is: How can you demand redress?

Put another way: Where’s your leverage? How can you get them to see they’re better off dealing with you in good faith, versus… getting themselves in actual trouble?

I don’t think you need to run out and hire a lawyer. But there’s a bunch of homework to do.

Start with your insurance

Because it’s their job to protect you from getting unfairly harassed like this.

Sounds like the hospital promised the insurance company — in a contract — to submit bills within 60 days.

That contract probably does not say, “and if we’re late on that, we’ll just go after Chris.”

No. I’m thinking it says, “If we don’t get you that bill on time, that’s just too bad for us.”

So: the insurance company has a right — and an obligation to you — to tell the hospital where to stick that bill.

So ask your insurance company: What’s *supposed* to happen if a hospital doesn’t submit a bill on time? What’s their process for getting things fixed? Can they tell the hospital to just knock it off, already?

And while you’ve got them, you may as well ask: If the hospital had submitted the bill on time, what would you have been on the hook for?

…because when this gets fixed, you’ll probably owe that amount.

If your insurance won’t cough up the info and won’t go to bat for you, get help. If you get your insurance through work, call HR. Otherwise, ring up your state insurance regulator.

Dispute the bill in collections

Meanwhile, you’ve got the hospital siccing a collection agent on you. That’s not right.

Notify the collection agency that you’re disputing this debt, as described in this recent First Aid Kit — which includes a dispute-letter template. (While you’re at it, send a copy to the hospital billing office.)

Document your efforts to get the hospital to see the light on this. If you’ve written to them, attach copies of previous correspondence. If it’s been all phone calls, document them: You called them on this day, at that time, etc.

If you haven’t been logging calls — keeping a set of notes with times, dates, who you spoke to, and where things stood at the end of the call — start now.

Let the hospital know: They could get in trouble

Your state’s consumer-protection office might take a dim view of what the hospital is doing here.

I mean, I’m not a lawyer, but I’m pretty sure there are laws against chasing you for money you don’t actually owe.

Look up that consumer-protection office here. If you can talk with someone there, great. If your state’s consumer-protection laws are easy to find online (and understand), also great.

(If not, consider calling your local public library. Seriously, librarians are amazing at helping dig up useful information.)

Once you’ve got some sense of your legal rights — from the hospital’s contract with the insurance company, from your state’s consumer-protection laws…

Start writing letters. To the hospital, to the collection agency — saying: Let’s get this settled before I have to complain to regulators about this. (When you write to the hospital, maybe cc the General Counsel’s office.)

Let them know how you expect things to go, and indicate — subtly but clearly —that you know what kind of trouble they could be in and why.

And make it all as confident and calm as possible. I’m thinking of something the legal expert Jacqueline Fox told me once:

The person who gets the letter has to make the decision: “Do I ignore this, or do I bring it to my manager?”

And if I was that person and [the letter-writer] was very calm — just saying, “this is happening, and it’s starting to look like this [legal issue] and I want this to be handled according to your processes,” that’s the part I’d find alarming.

If I was that person, I would either make sure it’s handled according to my processes, or give my manager a heads up: that there’s a grownup who seems somewhat irritated.

Somehow, we never actually used that tape, even though I think about it all the time  until now. Thanks for the chance to bring it back.