Latest news with #AmyMcHugh
Boston Globe
07-07-2025
- Business
- Boston Globe
Insurance cutbacks on costly GLP-1 coverage are good for small businesses
So it was welcome news in April when Advertisement 'We've been hearing from employers, with increased alarm, about the cost of these medicines,' Blue Cross spokesperson Amy McHugh told the Globe. 'They need some relief.' Advertisement Small, fully insured employers in Massachusetts already operate at a severe disadvantage on premium costs for a variety of regulatory and marketplace reasons, compared to their larger competitors. As president and CEO of the Retailers Association of Massachusetts, representing about 4,000 mostly smaller employers, I know of many small businesses that have faced double-digit premium increases year to year. It is now not unusual for a small employer in the Commonwealth to have annual premiums of $40,000 for each employee with a family plan. The primary tools employers have to lower those premiums are to go to high-deductible and high-copay plans, shifting more costs to employees. The disproportionate cost of health insurance for small employers is rapidly making them less competitive for workforce recruitment and retention, and salary growth is being held back because of increases in employee benefit costs. Meanwhile, drug manufacturers continue to seek revenue growth through high reimbursement rates and increases in the use of their products. When they can increase both their prices and sales volume, they see massive bottom-line growth. And they wield considerable political power to get provider-friendly public policy. If it weren't for that political power, government regulation could cap name-brand drug reimbursements at reasonable levels. But absent regulation, we need consumer choice — and engaged insurers — working for the premium payers, not the drug companies. Blue Cross Blue Shield of Massachusetts and Point32Health are now doing the right thing for premium payers: They are giving large employers the option of paying more to retain coverage of GLP-1 drugs for weight loss. But all employers can now restrict coverage of these drugs to their original purpose of combating diabetes. In so doing, insurers representing struggling small businesses and their workforces are effectively telling the drug companies that they may seek a rapidly growing customer base or charge unjustifiably high prices, but they can't have both. Advertisement Consumers will still have the choice to pay for these drugs out of pocket or to move to an insurer or plan that covers the drugs — but that will mean higher monthly premiums. If consumers don't want the drugs, they shouldn't be forced to pay higher premiums for others who are using them. The drug manufacturers have choices, too. They could simply lower their prices to the levels they charge in other countries. That would be the best possible outcome. As the two largest health insurers in the state, Blue Cross Blue Shield of Massachusetts and Point32Health are right to exert this kind of pressure on drug companies. We need more of this from other insurers as part of broader efforts to bring down unaffordable health care costs in the Commonwealth. Ultimately, to make health care more affordable, consumers paying insurance premiums must become more important than drug manufacturers. For that, Massachusetts needs both lower prices and more empowerment of consumers to choose the insurance coverage they need and can afford.
Boston Globe
20-02-2025
- Health
- Boston Globe
I've been that terrified parent in a Boston Children's Hospital coffee shop
Behind me was a man in his 40s sifting through a bin of travel mugs. His in-patient parent lanyard swayed above the colorful choices as he examined them one by one. Our eyes met. His were lined with exhaustion. 'I'm trying to get my son to drink,' he said. His voice quivered. His hands grasped a dark blue cup. 'I remember those days,' I said, flashing back to buying calorie-laden milks and Gatorade and telling Emily they were delicious. Advertisement 'If they're that good, you should drink them,' she'd say. I wanted to yell, DRINK THEM OR WE CAN'T GO HOME! Hydration was essential. She didn't care. 'My son had a massive heart attack on the football field last week,' he said. 'He's 17.' His eyes filled with tears. 'We've been here a week and the doctors don't know what's going to happen.' Every part of me sympathized with his fear. In the middle of Emily's stem cell transplant, doctors scrambled to figure out the shading on her lungs. I wanted a guarantee she'd live. No one offered it. 'At least you're on the cardiac floor,' I said, attempting to add a little levity. 'When my daughter had cancer, we talked about the five-star accommodations up there — the single personal fridges.' The man smiled. And then began to cry. 'I don't know what to do,' he said, wiping tears with the back of his hand. I saw a version of my former self in his glassy eyes — a parent terrified their kid was going to die, keeping afloat only with caffeine and hope. Advertisement 'See my daughter over there,' I said, pointing to Emily scrolling TikTok. 'She had a fifty-fifty chance of living. She had multiple ICU visits and almost died several times. I remember being where you are now.' Back then, I wanted a Magic 8 Ball to tell me Emily would be OK. That she'd live, have birthdays, go to college — big moments that did happen — all with time. My instinct was to assure this dad his son would be OK. But I'd seen too much at this hospital to know that sometimes it isn't. Yet 15 years after my family first entered these doors, I could promise, 'You'll get through this. Sometimes you'll question if you can, but you will.' His face softened. Could he see his future self in my eyes? When it was my turn to order, I slid my new friend's plastic cup in front of me. 'No, I can't let you buy that!' he said. 'It's $20!' It was the best $20 I'd spent in a long time. I amused myself picturing his son's refusal to drink anything from a cup his father hoped had magical powers. 'Can I give you a hug?' he asked. He squeezed me tight and hung his head. For a moment, time stood still. Two parents sharing a connection of heartache and hope. Wanting the best for each another and our kids. Holding onto the promise that time heals us — and our kids — in ways we questioned were even possible. Amy McHugh is a writer on Cape Cod. Send comments to magazine@ TELL YOUR STORY. Email your 650-word unpublished essay on a relationship to connections@ Please note: We do not respond to submissions we won't pursue. Advertisement
