At the California Alliance, we hear story after story of foster youth housed in county welfare offices and hotels because there are not enough placements for them in the child welfare system.
It horrifies us to think that these youth, many of whom were abused or severely neglected, are now having to live in unofficial shelters while they wait to be placed with a foster family.
It’s no secret that the nation is suffering from a mental health crisis. At the same time, we have a vast shortage of therapists.
As an administrator at a mental health practice in the Central Valley, I know firsthand how unnecessarily challenging it can be to find qualified professionals to meet the demand.
In 2013, my son Ram spontaneously developed a condition called selective mutism, a childhood anxiety disorder. After three months of searching, I finally found a therapist familiar with the condition. My husband and I felt so relieved — until we found out she doesn’t take insurance.
It turns out, this scenario is common. Health insurance — whether private or through California’s Medi-Cal program — doesn’t pay what many psychologists request for their services.
I’m a pediatric intern at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center, a safety-net hospital in Los Angeles County. When I decided to go into pediatrics, I pictured helping children and their families with broken bones, asthma and ear infections, as well as some chronic diseases, such as diabetes.
I never imagined how often I would take care of children trying to heal from the physical and mental trauma of being shot.
COVID-19’s overall effects on unemployment has received a lot of attention. But there hasn’t been enough focus on the devastation of the health care workforce.
More than 3,600 frontline health care workers died in the United States due to COVID-19 in the first year of the pandemic. Few new workers are available to fill those positions.
Like thousands of other Californians, this was not due to any of her own missteps — it was an overreaction of the state as it tries to crack down on fraud.
The unintended consequence is that people like my mom are having to go without monthly checks that, in many cases, allow them to put food on their tables and a roof over their heads.
The unequal impacts of COVID-19 and the ongoing crisis of police violence in communities of color have exacerbated mistrust and disconnection between these communities and the health care system. This makes achieving patient-centered care a challenge.
Studies show that brief messages and two-way communication via text builds people’s trust and engagement in health care and educational settings.
Trust for Public Land annually ranks park systems across the 100 most populated cities in the United States. Those in California’s Central Valley often rank near the bottom: Fresno ranks 97th. Bakersfield is 85th. Stockton ranks 77th.
Stockton and other Central Valley cities can improve their ranking with the help of California’s budget surplus. When we build parks in neighborhoods that don’t have any, we change the lives and futures of generations to come.
The baby formula shortage wreaking havoc across the United States is terrifying for any parent who relies on infant formula to feed their child. It’s especially calamitous for babies and children with special health care needs who rely on special prescription formulas that have also been impacted by the supply shortage.
The shortage highlights an ongoing, systemic failure to ensure vulnerable children have secure access to medically necessary, life supporting products and equipment.
Medi-Cal members might have mental health coverage in theory, but using it is a different story. People of color are less likely than white people to use mental health benefits, partially due to systemic inequities in the system. The same is true of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer (LGBTQ+) youth.
Our communities care greatly about their mental health and the mental health of their loved ones, yet California’s promises to provide care fall short.