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Pre-Surgical Complications (Part 2)

By MATTHEW HOLT

Strap in for the tale of why your hero is spending most of his life down YouTube rabbit holes of cardiology videos while blundering his way around many many medical centers and exposing many problems with American health care even before he gets close to the operating table. Yes it’s Matthew Holt’s pre-surgical complications – the complications that have arisen before he even gets his failing aortic valve fixed. And yes this is a multi-parter! Part 1 here

So on the Friday afternoon I was readying for my video call when there was a car parking emergency. I had to move two Sprineter vans and a car belonging to guests who were all out apres skiing out of our driveway so my wife could get her car out of the garage to get to an appointment she had. Although I was as quick as I could, I was about 10 minutes late for Dr Beygui but he very nicely called me up wondering if I was still okay to do it, was very cordial even though I made him wait, and we had a nice chat. He basically didn’t give me any new information in this conversation and yes UCSF did get paid for it! He was mostly assuming that I couldn’t walk a couple of blocks without getting short of breath but at the end of it we agreed that because I was in good physical shape and able to go snowboarding all day I would go ahead with a knee surgery later in the summer and only come back to him when I became symptomatic. 

Starting in March I got the requisite knee imaging (I had an MRI and 2 X-rays confirming my meniscus is gone and knee was pretty trashed), met with Dr Bini and the ortho team and started prepping for the surgery later that summer–which basically meant going to the gym and doing lots of weights and resistance training on my knees.

A little later I got an unexpected call from Dr Beygui’s physician assistant who told me that he was still trying to line me up for the open heart surgery. I told him I was still keener on a TAVR. He said that I shouldn’t have a TAVR because the TAVR valves only last 5 to 7 years. Yeung from Stanford’s original report told me they lasted about 10 to 12 years. Emarihah the UCSF cardiologist said that they thought they lasted 10 plus years but there was no good data. Given you can probably have one TAVR and then have another put inside when the first one fails and then maybe even another (TAVR in TAVR in TAVR), these numbers actually matter! 

Here’s the crux of the TAVR issue. If you can add 10 + 10 + 10 that gives you another 30 years of life which sounds pretty good to somebody in their early 60s. But if you can’t get more than 5 to 7 years out of a TAVR and can only do one more “TAVR in TAVR”, then you’re getting 10 to 15 years before you need to have a very complicated open heart surgery because it’s now replacing two different artificial valves. In that case I might not survive and I wouldn’t even be old enough to be President!

As you can see this decision is starting to get a little bit complicated. 

But the good news was that I could stop thinking about it because my heart wasn’t getting worse and the orthopedics (and anesthesia) team at UCSF was happy to do the knee replacement. 

As we were all steaming down this path I got a call from Dr Beygui’s scheduling assistant. My initial agreement had been to have an echocardiogram 6 months after the last one which would actually have been after the knee surgery. I’m not sure how much coordination between the departments there was given what happened a bit later but Dr Beygui requested that I have an echocardiogram before any surgery. As I was going in anyway to have a CT in mid-June to prep for the knee surgery, I said fine.

In another great drama of American health care it turns out that my insurance had changed. For most of the first half of the year I purchased a Blue Shield of California HMO on the ACA exchange called Covered California. In May my wife got a job and we then moved over to being covered by her employer’s insurer (well, ASO TPA as it turns out) Cigna.

Cigna and the entire University of California Health system decided to have a dispute which threatened that Cigna would not cover UCSF starting on July 1st. I won’t go into the crazy logic of why an insurance plan that one buys on an annual basis starting in January has contracts with providers that expire in the middle of the year, but welcome to America. Because of this the orthopedic team moved my surgery date up into late June just 4 days after all the prep imaging including that echocardiogram.

Oh and a few weeks earlier I had had a very minor snowboarding fall going very slowly in soft slushy snow. I banged my shoulder but for some reason it didn’t get any better. I actually went and had some physical therapy which seemed to help, but as I was hanging out so much at UCSF, I also had an appointment with the shoulder specialists. They sent me for a pretty uncomfortable MRI and the result from that was that I had total tears in all my rotator cuff tendons. The recommendation for that is surgery that also has a long recovery, but if you ignore it for too long the muscles can atrophy. Claude was very depressed for me when it interpreted that MRI report!

A spanner in the works

Those of you familiar with sod’s law can guess what happens next. The result of the echocardiogram was that the aortic stenosis had gone from being severe to being very severe. The precise number was that my peak velocity went from 4.6 m/s in Jan to  5.1 m/s in June  just 4 and ½ months later.

I discussed this with my trusted health confidant and Claude guessed that this might be a problem and the anesthesia team might not want to have me get the knee surgery.

The next sequence of events reveals that nobody in American healthcare talks to each other.

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Pre-Surgical Complications (Part 1)

By MATTHEW HOLT

Strap in for the tale of why your hero is spending most of his life down YouTube rabbit holes of cardiology videos while blundering his way around many many medical centers and exposing many problems with American health care even before he gets close to the operating table. Yes it’s Matthew Holt’s pre-surgical complications – the complications that have arisen before he even gets his failing aortic valve fixed. And yes this will be a multi-parter!

Introduction and a decent bit of context

Last summer after a lot of back and forth I discovered that I had aortic stenosis. (I won’t replay the whole story of how the referral to the echocardiogram didn’t happen three times and therefore I nearly didn’t have the test and therefore never found out because I already have elsewhere) 

Amazingly this has nothing to do with my bad lifestyle. It’s an inherited heart disease in which the valve that governs the flow of blood between the two main chambers of your heart is starting to fail. Often that means people get very short of breath, start to faint or have severe chest pains but in my case I had none of that. What I did have was the measurement on an echocardiogram showing that my aortic stenosis was “severe” because I have what’s called a bicuspid aortic valve. This is a genetic defect that my father landed me with–well I’m blaming my father but who exactly knows as he’s dead!  

Essentially instead of having three leaves on the valve (like a Mercedes symbol) I have two and over time they’ve been steadily picking up more calcification and opening less. That means that more and more pressure is required from the heart to squeeze blood between the two chambers which is bad for the heart and by extension bad for me. That’s pretty strong agreement amongst cardiologists that if you can get this condition fixed before you become symptomatic it’s better than waiting. If you get symptomatic, it’s urgent and your chance of a heart attack and death becomes pretty high (like 25-50% a year!)

But of course it’s not that simple – either from the standpoint of getting it fixed or from the standpoint of how to get it fixed within the American health care system in all of its beauty. And you can expect it, as it’s me, to hear a lot about customer service, insurance, online access to information and of course interoperability. There might also be some AI thrown in for good measure!

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Is There Hope for Parkinson’s Disease Patients?

By STEVEN ZECOLA

Congress will need to amend its faltering Parkinson’s disease legislation if it hopes to achieve meaningful results.

Why Change Is Necessary

For more than 50 years, the National Institutes of Health (NIH) has pursued Parkinson’s disease (PD) research with limited success. Nearly $5 billion has been spent, yet no approved treatment exists that slows, stops, or cures the disease.

This is not a new concern. By the mid‑1990s, Parkinson’s advocacy groups had grown frustrated by the absence of major therapeutic advances since L‑dopa’s approval 25 years earlier. That frustration led to three national plans launched in 2000, 2006, and 2014. None produced meaningful breakthroughs.

Congress to the Rescue?

Congress attempted to address this stagnation by passing the National Plan to End Parkinson’s Act (Public Law 118‑66), signed July 2, 2024. The Act:

  • Calls for an integrated national strategy to prevent, diagnose, treat, and cure Parkinson’s
  • Establishes an Advisory Council on Parkinson’s Research to deliver annual recommendations to the HHS Secretary, with the first report due within 18 months
  • Requires the HHS Secretary to issue a progress assessment within 24 months

What Happened Instead

The HHS Secretary delegated implementation of the Act to NIH. As a result, the Advisory Council and HHS missed their first statutory deadlines and produced no measurable progress. NIH convened the Council’s first meeting on June 29, 2026—two years after enactment.

The meeting materials omitted information essential for forming a credible strategy, including:

  • The time and cost of the current drug‑approval process
  • Lessons learned from the three previous national PD plans
  • The role of artificial intelligence and other emerging technologies
  • Regulatory barriers
  • A comparison of federal vs. non‑federal PD research funding and coordination
  • Funding allocations across projects
  • An assessment of where industry stands on potential cures and the remaining scientific steps
  • A plan for engaging external subject‑matter experts
  • Any economic analysis

Even basic administration proved difficult. NIH collected comments from 162 individuals but posted them a month late—and did not include my submission. Despite recommendations, NIH still does not use regulations.gov, which would eliminate many of these administrative failures.

More importantly, NIH shows no recognition that the regulatory system itself is broken and imposes massive societal costs. Parkinson’s disease alone generates over $80 billion annually in direct and indirect costs.

What the Advisory Council Is Likely to Recommend

Based on the 162 public comments, the Council’s top recommendation will likely be a substantial increase in PD research funding.

More funding would be logical—but only if used efficiently. Efficiency requires acknowledging that the technology, regulation, and process must change. NIH, as currently structured, cannot deliver on that acknowledgement or those changes.

A Better Approach

Congress should not wait for the fourth national plan to fail. Instead, it should establish a private investment vehicle, funded with federal research dollars and majority‑owned by the federal government. Executive leadership should be recruited from the healthcare industry and granted a 20% carried interest, aligning incentives and ensuring accountability for research outcomes.

Congress should also require the FDA to adopt a zero‑based regulatory framework for AI‑driven applications, including collapsing the multi‑trial model and incorporating real‑time data into the review process.

Conclusion

Human brain cells are complex and fragile, and central nervous system drugs have among the highest attrition rates in medicine—approved at less than half the rate of drugs in other therapeutic areas.

Layer on the length, cost, and complexity of today’s regulatory process, and the Advisory Council’s recommendations risk becoming the fourth demonstration of how not to solve the problem. Congress should anticipate this outcome and implement a system capable of delivering real progress for Parkinson’s patients.

Hope for PD patients exists—but only if Congress acts decisively and soon.

Steven Zecola is a former technology executive and government official.  He retired 24 years ago with a diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease.   He currently is an ardent patient advocate.

A digital health company became an insurance carrier under the thin veil of a product launch

By DEEKSHA HEGDE

How to spot a fundamental business model shift from a mile away, long before the PR calls it a product launch or market expansion.

In April 2026, Progyny, a fertility and family building benefits administrator, announced Progyny Select, a supplemental health plan for small and mid-size employers (100-1,000 employees). “Pooled-risk” got me curious: did they cut a deal with an insurance carrier to back the product, or had they taken on insurance risk themselves?

Until now, Progyny had only served large, self-insured employers (1,000+ employees) as a third-party administrator. They negotiated rates with fertility clinics, routed employees to better providers, managed the claims paperwork, and took a margin while employers paid the medical bills. This product launch appeared to be a downmarket expansion to capture a segment previously untapped, but the mechanics were not apparent.

I didn’t have to look very far. It was right there in the legal disclaimer at the bottom of the press release: “through subsidiaries of Progyny Inc. with state licensure to offer supplemental coverage.” Now this really got my attention. This is a digital health company turning into an insurer. You don’t see that happen every day. I decided to do some digging.

What states have they acquired licenses in, given you need one in every state you want to operate in? Their latest 10-K, surprisingly, didn’t mention anything about their flip to the insurer model. I realized they were not required to disclose the new insurance subsidiary since it hadn’t crossed revenue thresholds by the SEC’s definition. The fully insured expansion appeared as a growth target and a regulatory risk factor. They declared the move would subject them to additional laws applicable to health insurance that do not currently apply to them.

The product landing page did mention Progyny Health Insurance Company of Washington. So I pulled the thread. Washington state incorporation records showed the name had been reserved in August 2024. Six months later, in February 2025, the entity was formally incorporated. By July 2025, Progyny Health Insurance Company of Washington had been admitted as an active health insurer by the Washington Office of Insurance Commissioner. In the second half of 2025, they filed their first few products with the regulator, all still sitting in review on the SERFF database as of July 2026. The filings also make nationwide coverage ambition explicit. So this has been stewing since August 2024, the date the name was chosen. I went on LinkedIn to check if they had any actuaries on the team. They hired an actuary in April 2023, and a second in January 2026 (who specializes in pricing insurance products) three months before the launch. 

The announcement that the press called a product launch had been a strategic transformation at least three years in the making. The SEC filings hinted at it. These four signals — an actuary hire, a name reservation, an insurance license, and active product filings with a state regulator — were sitting in plain sight the whole time. For anyone watching, just one of those foreshadowed what was coming.

I’ve been watching the market reaction since the launch. The move is still being read as market expansion downward, when it’s really business model innovation.

Why become an insurer at all?

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Is Constructing Multi-generational “Healthy Homes” a Good Investment?

By MIKE MAGEE

Two decades ago, I was heavily into health visioning. I learned quickly that it was relatively easy to predict what would happen, but much more difficult to accurately peg when it would happen.

At the time, I promoted “7 Visions.”

  1. Health is Political.
  2. Home-Centered Health Care
  3. Reconnecting The Family
  4. Techmanity
  5. Lifespan Planning Records
  6. Collapsing Databases
  7. The Planetary Patient

These futurist predictions were grounded in reality, values, science, and leadership. In short, they had the benefit of historical context provided by the World Health Organization (WHO).

The WHO had spent the first five years of the new Millennium actively engaging the question “What is health?” A large part of this thought process has involved defining what health is not. They determined it was not the health care system. It was not the reactive elimination of disease. It was not a simple commodity to be weighed against all other commodities in society. It was different from these things, and more than these things.

In their eyes health was universal and common to the people of the world, independent of geography, race, income, gender, and culture. Health was an active state of well-being that encompassed mind, body and spirit. It was the capacity to reach one’s full human potential, and, on a larger scale, a nation’s potential for development.

Dr. Gro Brundtland, former director-general of the World Health Organization, wrote in the World Health Report 2000 that “The objective of good health is twofold – goodness and fairness; goodness being the best attainable average level; and fairness, the smallest feasible differences among individuals and groups.“

Now a quarter century later, the notion that health as a human right and a preferred state of being, rather than a set of disconnected functions or services, is increasingly being embraced. How we organize, fund, distribute, and integrate the services that allow for health – that remains up for debate.

I was brought back to this “vision” thing by two interactions this past week. The first was a text from a 3rd year undergraduate student from Harvard. He wrote: “Hi Dr. Magee- I’m  – – – – -, a junior at Harvard doing a project on US Healthcare. I’m very interested in the hospital-at-home model of healthcare, and stumbled upon your book, ‘Home-Centered Health Care.’ Do you have a moment to chat so I could ask you a few questions? Thanks!”  More on the conversation in a moment.

The second interaction was a request to connect with a young health care professional who for the past 7+ years has “directed comprehensive health information management (HIM) operations and data governance for a premier multi-campus system across the New Jersey and New York corridor.” 

She wrote: “Hi Mike, thanks for connecting. I’ve been following your commentary on the medical-industrial complex and the systemic challenges facing healthcare delivery today. Your perspective as a medical historian is incredibly valuable right now….I was actually just reading up on the shift in healthcare reform conversations lately out of curiosity, where do you see the biggest structural blind spot in how we’re currently approaching it?”

These two interactions within a few days of each other sent me back to the 2005 vision paper. They were cuing up the three major questions of “futurists”:

  1. Where are things going?
  2. Where is the pay dirt?
  3. What will disrupt actualization?

As it turns out, I was right in a few of my predictions 20 years ago.

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Passing the Lantern

By GEORGE BEAUREGARD

Back in the late 90s to early 2000s, I had a robust (independent) internal medicine practice. These were the days before electronic medical records and hospitalists became ingrained into the healthcare delivery landscape. I’ll admit that—despite how much I loved my Palm Pilot—initially, I was ambivalent about the value-add of both. For many reasons, I felt that using an electronic health record (EHR) would serve as an improvement over paper records, but at what cost and effort? (Too many EHR users had already told me that, once you’ve used [a good] one, you’ll never go back. I did , however, promise myself that I would find a way to look at the patient sitting before me instead of staring at the screen.)

I was, however, skeptical about how an external physician, who, while clinically adept, didn’t know “the rest of the story” about my patients multi-dimensional stuff—life experiences, body language clues, hobbies, tendencies, cultural norms, etc.—could serve them better than me during their times of a health crisis. But I did know that the train had already left the station.

Like a great white shark fin, the concept of “Managed Care” and all of its attendant pros, cons, trials, and tribulations, had already broken through the surface of healthcare delivery and workflows, only to be forced into to a hasty retreat due to a tremendous backlash from enraged patients and physicians. (I mention this in a previous post: A Code Blue for Common Sense.)

Concurrently, I was leading a large independent physician network that was taking on risk-based contracts. To say that my synapses were firing in the high-speed lane would be an understatement.

Our network attorney was an interesting person and eventually, we became good friends. (In some ways he reminded me of a cross between Richard Belzer, Peter Capaldi, and Sam Elliot.) He was thoughtful, smart, articulate, and, when he spoke, people listened. And he didn’t suffer fools.

He invited me and my wife, Kathy, to dinner one night to he and his wife’s home in So. Dartmouth, MA. His elderly father, a retired physician, lived with them. When we arrived, Mark introduced me to his father, who was seated at a table. Although he appeared somewhat frail, he was well groomed and neatly dressed. When we shook hands, I noticed that he had a strong grip. He remarked about the firmness of my grip —as if it was a characteristic that he judged people by. I couldn’t help but notice that. on the tabletop in front of him, was the most recent issues of the NEJM and JAMA. They weren’t there for show: when asked about it, he said he read every issue, so he could “keep up with medicine”. (His son confirmed that he did indeed read every issue and could speak to them with accuracy later on.) He proceeded to ask me what I thought about a particular article about a COPD study that was in the NEJM issue. Thankfully, I had read it. I was impressed and thought: that’s a state of being that I’d like to find myself in during my septuagenarian or octogenarian years. Keeping up.

None of my adult children ended up in the medical field —a neutral reality, not a judgement or regret. Still, recovering from my recent hospital stay gave me time to reflect on how they navigate today’s sea of healthcare misinformation. I’ve been considering what I ought to do, if anything, to curate the information about medical advances that will (and might) actually matter to them: strategies for getting upstream of chronic illness, novel, diagnostic tools, new discoveries, and the real world impact of artificial intelligence in healthcare.

For the most part, physicians are data and information hungry people. We want to see the evidence.

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The same 10mg Zepbound costs $449 or $699

By JOHN SAMARAS

Eli Lilly sells a month of 10mg Zepbound for $449 through LillyDirect, its own pharmacy. That price holds only if you refill within 45 days of your last fill. Refill on day 46 and the same box is $699. The $250 is a late fee.

Here are the two ways to buy branded Zepbound that publish a cash price. Both ship Lilly’s single-dose vials from Lilly’s own pharmacy.

LifeMD prescribes Zepbound and fills it through the same LillyDirect. It charges $349 to $549 for the drug where Lilly charges $299 to $449, and bills $149 a month on top of that.

Zepbound is tirzepatide. Compounded semaglutide is a different molecule on a different price ladder. Of the 15 programs I track that dispense compounded GLP-1, five name the pharmacy that makes it. Ten do not.

Where you buy itPublished cash priceFee on top
Lilly direct, self-pay$299 at 2.5mg, $399 at 5mg, $449 at 7.5mg and abovenone
LifeMD$349 to $549 by dose$149 a month, $39 first month

FDA wrote to three of those sellers on February 20. It told Strut to stop selling its compounded drugs as “Generic Zepbound, Mounjaro.” It told Medvi to drop “Same active ingredient as Wegovy and Ozempic.” For Ivim the problem was the label. Printing “Ivim” on the vial implied Ivim had compounded the drug. It had not.

All three letters are about what the sellers wrote on a page.

I price these programs every Monday, and the Internet Archive holds what they charged before I started, so the letters have a before and an after. Strut advertised $149 for its starting-dose compounded semaglutide injection a month before its letter and publishes $149 today. Medvi has published $299 for compounded semaglutide refills at every Monday check since May 25.

None of the three letters required a program to name the pharmacy that fills the order.

John Samaras is the founder and editor of GLP Chart, which tracks what every major GLP-1 program charges, checked every Monday, and publishes its methodology. No program pays to be listed or ranked.

Work Requirements Target the Wrong People

By KIM BELLARD

One of the key “cost savings” in last years’ Big, Beautiful Bill were work requirements imposed on most working aged beneficiaries in SNAP and/or Medicaid, despite the fact that the few times such requirements had been tried showed they were costly to implement and operate and don’t do much to increase work participation, although they are effective at getting beneficiaries to lose benefits. Republicans who pushed these requirements were infuriated at the thought that some able-bodied people – stereotypically young men – were sitting around on their couches playing video games while benefiting from the programs, despite those programs’ complex administrative burdens and meagre benefits.

A new GAO report reminds us that the people coasting off SNAP and Medicaid were not so much the beneficiaries but rather employers, especially large employers. And the names of the most likely employers won’t come as a big surprise.

The report — Federal Social Safety Net Programs: Millions of Workers, Including Many Employed by Large Employers, Continue to Rely on Medicaid and SNAP – was requested by Senator Bernie Sanders, in his role as Ranking Member of the Senate Committee on Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions, and is a follow-up to a similar 2020 report. It focused on 11 states: Arkansas, Georgia, Indiana, Maine, Massachusetts, Nebraska, North Carolina, Oklahoma, Rhode Island, Tennessee, and Washington.

The top-lines are that working aged beneficiaries in both programs were, in fact, not only likely to already be working—mostly full-time — but also at participation rates higher than working aged people not on the programs, and that companies like Amazon and Walmart were among the largest employers of these beneficiaries.

The key change in employment in these populations has been the explosion of gig workers in the app-based food delivery and ride sharing sectors. Workers at Amazon on these programs also tripled since the prior report. Walmart remains the employer with the largest number of these workers who receive Medicaid, but has slipped to second to ride sharing gig workers receiving SNAP. McDonalds and Dollar General round out the top five employers.  

Now, these are among the largest employers generally, but, gosh, doesn’t it gall you that have so many of their workers who still need SNAP and/or Medicaid?  It’s not like they’re not making money, it’s not that their CEOs and other executives aren’t raking in tens of millions of dollars, but they sure are reluctant to pay federal income taxes. The Wall Street Journal reported earlier this year that, as a result of The Big, Beautiful Bill, Amazon’s federal income taxes dropped from $9b to $1.2b in 2025, while profits soared 44.5% to $90b. Walmart looks like a sucker for paying $6b in 2025, an effective tax rate of about 23%.

An Amazon spokesperson defended its practices in a response to The Washington Post: “Amazon pay is among the best in the industry, regular full-time employees have access to health care from their first day … and 74% of our regular full-time employees are enrolled in an Amazon health insurance plan, well above the 65% private sector take-up rate for full-time workers.”

So, if all those employees have access to coverage from their first day and get among the best pay in the industry, why are any on SNAP or Medicaid?  And couldn’t you at least pay more than 1.3% on federal taxes?

Bernie, of course, was outraged:

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The Limits of Disclosure and the Power of the Outside Option: A Case for External Reference Pricing in Healthcare 

By DAVID INTROCASO & ADAM CUNNINGHAM

For over a decade, federal healthcare policy has operated on a foundational premise: if hospital prices are made visible, market discipline will inevitably follow. The push for price transparency—exemplified by federal disclosure rules and current legislative proposals such as the Lower Costs, More Transparency Act (H.R. 9393) and the Patients Deserve Price Tags Act (S. 2355)—aims to empower buyers and stimulate price competition. Yet, despite terabytes of disclosed price files, commercial hospital prices continue to escalate far out of proportion to underlying costs or quality improvements. The persistent failure of price transparency is not merely a problem of enforcement or compliance; it is a structural defect in market design. In highly concentrated hospital markets, publishing prices does not create market discipline because it leaves price-setting power entirely in the hands of the seller. To restrain further premium price growth, healthcare buyers or moreover ERISA plans must go beyond price transparency and restore or regain bargaining leverage.  

The Illusions of Price Transparency and Internal Benchmarks

The inarguable limitation of hospital price transparency is that disclosure cannot alter the underlying power dynamics of a concentrated market. Hospitals are the price setters, plans the price takers. In approximately three out of four metropolitan statistical areas—and up to 97 percent of urban hospital markets—provider consolidation has erased competition. Commercial insurers and self-funded health plans cannot drop dominant, “must-have” hospital systems from their networks without breaching regulatory network-adequacy requirements. Knowing they cannot be excluded, consolidated health systems set prices based on bargaining leverage rather than operational cost. As a result, posting a chargemaster price or a negotiated rate publicly merely certifies what a captive buyer was forced to pay; it does not give the buyer the power to walk away.

Furthermore, recent empirical analyses demonstrate that disclosed price data remains functionally unworkable for market discipline. Hospital disclosure files are rife with noncompliance—full compliance has dropped to roughly one in five hospitals—and the posted figures lack a standardized unit of payment. Hospital contracts mix fixed dollar amounts, per diems, case rates, and percentage discounts off unlisted chargemasters, rendering the data noisy and incomparable.

When policymakers attempt to correct these market failures using internal benchmarks, the results routinely backfire:

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Matthew reviews ChatGPT Health

OpenAI just made ChatGPT Health generally available. This is their partnership with B.Well which allows you to bring your data from various EMRs into chatGPT. So I took it for a spin–Matthew Holt