Latest news with #WestVirginiaUniversity
Yahoo
14 hours ago
- Health
- Yahoo
WVU student discovers psychedelic fungus that could be used to treat addition, depression
MORGANTOWN, (WBOY) — An environmental microbiology major at West Virginia University has made a discovery that researchers have been searching for for years. Corinne Hazel, a junior from Delaware, Ohio, recently discovered a new species of fungus and named it Periglandula clandestina, because it has eluded investigators for decades, according to a press release from WVU. The fungus has similar effects as the semisynthetic drug LSD and was discovered growing in morning glory plants. 'We had a ton of plants lying around and they had these tiny little seed coats. We noticed a little bit of fuzz in the seed coat. That was our fungus,' Hazel said in the release. The fungus grows on morning glories and makes ergot alkaloids, which gives them their psychedelic activities, according to the release. WVU said that the creator of LSD has been looking for the fungus since he invented the drug in the 1930s. Newly discovered prehistoric sea creature identified by Marshall University researchers According to WVU, LSD is already used to treat conditions like depression, PTSD and addiction, and Periglandula clandestina opens doors for the future of pharmaceuticals for treating other conditions like migraines, dementia, and Parkinson's disease. Hazel is now studying ways to culture the fungus and looking for other fungal symbiotes in different morning glory species. Daniel Panaccione, Davis-Michael Professor of Plant and Soil Sciences at the WVU Davis College of Agriculture and Natural Resources who works in the lab with Hazel said that the discovery was 'a significant thing' and 'amazing for a student.' Hazel and Panaccione's discover has been published in Mycologia. 'I'm lucky to have stumbled into this opportunity,' Hazel said. 'People have been looking for this fungus for years, and one day, I look in the right place, and there it is. I'm very proud of the work that I've done at WVU.' You can read more about Hazel's discover from WVU here or read the published work here. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Fast Company
2 days ago
- Business
- Fast Company
How microwave tech can help reclaim critical materials from e-waste
When the computer or phone you're using right now blinks its last blink and you drop it off for recycling, do you know what happens? At the recycling center, powerful magnets will pull out steel. Spinning drums will toss aluminum into bins. Copper wires will get neatly bundled up for resale. But as the conveyor belt keeps rolling, tiny specks of valuable, lesser-known materials such as gallium, indium, and tantalum will be left behind. Those tiny specks are critical materials. They're essential for building new technology, and they're in short supply in the U.S. They could be reused, but there's a problem: Current recycling methods make recovering critical minerals from e-waste too costly or hazardous, so many recyclers simply skip them. Sadly, most of these hard-to-recycle materials end up buried in landfills or get mixed into products like cement. But it doesn't have to be this way. New technology is starting to make a difference. As demand for these critical materials keeps growing, discarded electronics can become valuable resources. My colleagues and I at West Virginia University are developing a new technology to change how we recycle. Instead of using toxic chemicals, our approach uses electricity, making it safer, cleaner, and more affordable to recover critical materials from electronics. How much e-waste are we talking about? Americans generated about 2.7 million tons of electronic waste in 2018, according to the latest federal data. Including uncounted electronics, the U.S. recycles only about 15% of its total e-waste, suggests a survey by the United Nations. Even worse, nearly half the electronics that people in Northern America sent to recycling centers end up shipped overseas. They often land in scrapyards, where workers may use dangerous methods like burning or leaching with harsh chemicals to pull out valuable metals. These practices can harm both the environment and workers' health. That's why the Environmental Protection Agency restricts these methods in the U.S. The tiny specks matter Critical minerals are in most of the technology around you. Every phone screen has a super-thin layer of a material called indium tin oxide. LEDs glow because of a metal called gallium. Tantalum stores energy in tiny electronic parts called capacitors. All of these materials are flagged as ' high risk ' on the U.S. Department of Energy's critical materials list. That means the U.S. relies heavily on these materials for important technologies, but their supply could easily be disrupted by conflicts, trade disputes, or shortages. Right now, just a few countries, including China, control most of the mining, processing, and recovery of these materials, making the U.S. vulnerable if those countries decide to limit exports or raise prices. These materials aren't cheap, either. For example, the U.S. Geological Survey reports that gallium was priced between $220 to $500 per kilogram in 2024. That's 50 times more expensive than common metals like copper, at $9.48 per kilogram in 2024. Revolutionizing recycling with microwaves At West Virginia University's Department of Mechanical, Materials, and Aerospace Engineering, I and materials scientist Edward Sabolsky asked a simple question: Could we find a way to heat only specific parts of electronic waste to recover these valuable materials? If we could focus the heat on just the tiny specks of critical minerals, we might be able to recycle them easily and efficiently. The solution we found: microwaves. This equipment isn't very different from the microwave ovens you use to heat food at home, just bigger and more powerful. The basic science is the same: Electromagnetic waves cause electrons to oscillate, creating heat. In our approach, though, we're not heating water molecules like you do when cooking. Instead, we heat carbon, the black residue that collects around a candle flame or car tailpipe. Carbon heats up much faster in a microwave than water does. But don't try this at home; your kitchen microwave wasn't designed for such high temperatures. In our recycling method, we first shred the electronic waste, mix it with materials called fluxes that trap impurities, and then heat the mixture with microwaves. The microwaves rapidly heat the carbon that comes from the plastics and adhesives in the e-waste. This causes the carbon to react with the tiny specks of critical materials. The result: a tiny piece of pure, sponge-like metal about the size of a grain of rice. This metal can then be easily separated from leftover waste using filters. So far, in our laboratory tests, we have successfully recovered about 80% of the gallium, indium, and tantalum from e-waste, at purities between 95% and 97%. We have also demonstrated how it can be integrated with existing recycling processes. Why the Department of Defense is interested Our recycling technology got its start with help from a program funded by the Defense Department's Advanced Research Projects Agency, or DARPA. Many important technologies, from radar systems to nuclear reactors, depend on these special materials. While the Department of Defense uses less of them than the commercial market, they are a national security concern. We're planning to launch larger pilot projects next to test the method on smartphone circuit boards, LED lighting parts, and server cards from data centers. These tests will help us fine-tune the design for a bigger system that can recycle tons of e-waste per hour instead of just a few pounds. That could mean producing up to 50 pounds of these critical minerals per hour from every ton of e-waste processed. If the technology works as expected, we believe this approach could help meet the nation's demand for critical materials. How to make e-waste recycling common One way e-waste recycling could become more common is if Congress held electronics companies responsible for recycling their products and recovering the critical materials inside. Closing loopholes that allow companies to ship e-waste overseas, instead of processing it safely in the U.S., could also help build a reserve of recovered critical minerals. But the biggest change may come from simple economics. Once technology becomes available to recover these tiny but valuable specks of critical materials quickly and affordably, the U.S. can transform domestic recycling and take a big step toward solving its shortage of critical materials.
Dominion Post
2 days ago
- General
- Dominion Post
Johanna Marie Caruso
Johanna Marie Caruso, 72, of Morgantown, WV, unexpectedly passed away at home last fall, October 13, 2024, from cardiac was a daughter of the late John A. and Marie C. was a 1970 graduate of Morgantown High School, as well as a graduate of West Virginia University with a BA, in German and Spanish and an MA and Ed.D in language education. She devoted her life to teaching for which she had a life-long a teacher at St. Francis High School, she was instrumental in obtaining a Blue Ribbon School award for St. Francis in 1994, where she and Sisters Patricia and Dorothy travelled to Washington D.C. to receive this distinctive honor from the President. She continued to teach Spanish and English at St. Francis High school and then St. Francis Central Catholic School until her retirement in 2019, whereby she continued her interests in substitute teaching for schools in the area. She taught for over forty years in public and private addition to her teaching, she cared deeply for animals in the area often who were rescues or strays, even providing shelter for is survived by her sister, Camille and brother-in-law, James Weiss of Salem, MA and her many wonderful friends and neighbors of whom her survivors are most appreciative.A memorial celebration of her life will be held at Hastings Funeral Home, 153 Spruce St., Morgantown, on Saturday, June 7, 2025, from 1 until the time of the service at 2:30 lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be made to St. Francis de Sales Central Catholic School, 41 Guthrie lane, Morgantown, WV 26508 and/or Animal Friends of North Central West Virginia, Dellslow, WV 26531. Hastings Funeral Home has been entrusted with arrangements and online condolences may be made to the family at
Yahoo
3 days ago
- Business
- Yahoo
How to save higher ed, according to Gordon Gee
MORGANTOWN, — Gordon Gee owns somewhere around 2,000 bow ties. About half are 'in retirement,' gradually being repurposed into quilts for his granddaughters. A couple dozen or so hang in his office at West Virginia University, where he's served as president for the past 11 years. The designs in his collection range from traditional to whimsical — classic stripes and polka dots to flamingos, Santa Claus heads, hearts and flip-flops. Ever since encountering his first bow tie in a doctor's office as a teenager in Vernal, Utah, the accessory has become his signature: a symbol of delight, abundance and a refusal to blend in. It's as eclectic as his leadership style, which has won him both admirers and skeptics throughout his 45-year career in higher education. On the day I met Gee in his office, the campus was winding down for the summer and he was preparing for his final commencement, capping the close of his second tenure leading WVU. He arrived a few minutes late, delayed by sorting through decades of belongings as he prepared to vacate the presidential residence on campus in June. He was gearing up for graduation festivities and dressed for the part: a bow tie emblazoned with the university logo, a yellow vest and blue-and-yellow socks peeking out beneath his trousers. West Virginia is where Gee's career as a university president started when, at 36 years old, he was appointed president. Now, after a 45-year journey leading five major universities — two of them twice — 81-year-old Gee is ending his career where it began. He is one of the most significant — and colorful — figures in modern American higher education. Over four decades, he's led more universities than any other person in U.S. history: the University of Colorado, Brown University and Vanderbilt University, as well as two stints as president of WVU and Ohio State. An ardent champion of public education, he pushed for ambitious changes in each school, raising billions and transforming the universities' structure, governance and athletics. But this charismatic, bow-tied man rarely managed to avoid causing a stir. Most recently, Gee led West Virginia through a sweeping and contentious 'Academic Transformation' in response to a deepening budget crisis and falling enrollment after the pandemic. The overhaul resulted in the elimination of 28 academic programs and about 300 jobs, including faculty and library positions, changes Gee believed were necessary to keep the institution financially viable. The changes drew national attention and sparked fierce protests from students and faculty. Gee recalled waving at them from his office window as demonstrators gathered outside his office in Stewart Hall. Despite the backlash, Gee says his decisions were guided by a central question: Was West Virginia University truly serving its students and the people of West Virginia? 'I think what we did is we reinvented the university — we repositioned it,' he told me. As he prepares to step down, Gee believes he is leaving the institution on 'solid financial footing,' with its bond rating reaffirmed. The new president, Michael Benson, who is leaving a job as president of Coastal Carolina University, is set to take the helm in July. At a time when public trust in higher education is eroding, intensified by the Trump administration's scrutiny of Ivy League schools, Gee believes universities are in the midst of an existential reckoning. The way forward, he believes, is through bold, student-centered change. 'Higher education has been in the same model for so many years,' Gee said. 'The reality is this: we either change as institutions — or we die.' Gee's office inside a Romanesque building on campus resembles an eclectic museum of curiosities. On his desk are a smattering of coins and pins — keepsakes collected from people he met over the years. He works at a hefty wooden desk with hand-carved features, his own 'resolute desk,' a nod to the storied Oval Office original. When he leaves WVU, the desk will go with him. Above it hangs an expansive landscape of Morgantown, painted by a WVU graduate. Gee calls himself an 'accidental president' when reflecting on how he came to the job that became his life's work. In 1981, while serving as dean of the law school at West Virginia, he had a call with the board of governors about the possibility of becoming president. Before hearing back from the board, he spotted the front page of The Dominion Post, a local newspaper, and saw a headline announcing he would be the university's next president. The formal offer came soon after. 'It was something that would not happen in today's world,' Gee told me. 'It was highly unusual, very West Virginia.' Gee may have aspired to a presidency someday, but the promotion came far sooner than expected, said John Fisher, a member of the dean search committee who later became Gee's chief of staff. 'I think people feel very comfortable with Gordon in a very short period of time,' Fisher said. A hallmark of Gee's leadership is that people don't work for him, but with him, he added. Gee was 36 when he stepped into the role. There was no playbook for being a university president, he told me, and he faced a steep learning curve. One of his first tasks was understanding the university's mission as a land-grant institution — part of a national system established under the 1862 Morrill Act to deliver practical education in agriculture, engineering and the sciences. In a state that ranks among the poorest and least educated in the country, Gee came to see the university's mission as inseparable from his own: to spur economic growth, expand health care and bring opportunity to every county of West Virginia. He's gearing up for his last tour of all 55 counties in the state, his annual summer tradition. 'The advantage and the disadvantage of this university is the fact that it is so tied to the future of this state,' Gee told me. 'It represents the hopes and dreams of all West Virginians.' Gee learned how to be a university president by trying things others hadn't. Early on, when he became aware of dust blowing from the air vents in the operating room of the state-owned and outdated university hospital, he knew changes had to be made. Though he had no background in health care, he understood the political risks: If the state Legislature funded a new hospital, they might relocate it to Charleston. So Gee proposed an unorthodox solution — creating a nonprofit public university corporation. He persuaded the West Virginia Legislature to separate the hospital from the university, paving the way for the school to ultimately take ownership of the hospital and build a new facility. The result grew into WVU Medicine, a sprawling system of 25 hospitals. 'We wanted to make certain that no one in West Virginia had to leave the state to get health care.' He later applied the same model at the University of Colorado. Gee's sense of purpose came through leading public universities — at Colorado, then at Ohio State, and ultimately back at West Virginia, where he had the longest tenure. Institutions hired him to shake things up, he told me. 'I made a living on being very disruptive,' he said. At Ohio State, he introduced selective admissions to what had been an open-access institution — a controversial move, particularly in rural parts of the state. Gee said many parents viewed him as 'the devil incarnate' for limiting access. But he believed the old model was failing students and families: Tuition was spent on students who weren't committed, and many would leave without graduating. He also undertook a major academic reorganization, consolidating five arts and sciences colleges — a task he likened to 'moving a graveyard' — and shifted the school from a quarter to a semester calendar. Public universities were more open to change than elite private ones, he found. At Brown University, where Gee served as president for three years starting in 1998 — his shortest stint — his attempts at reform quickly clashed with tradition. 'They wanted to remain a wonderful Ivy League institution, and when I started the disruption, I could tell that it was going to be hand-to-hand combat,' he said. After Brown, he became chancellor of Vanderbilt University, where he eliminated the athletic department and consolidated several programs — part of a broader effort across his career to streamline operations and cut bureaucratic redundancy. Gee believes higher education has grown 'isolated' and 'arrogant.' He points to the ongoing maelstrom at Harvard University. While he disagrees with the Trump administration's 'sledgehammer to a problem' approach, he's unequivocal about one belief: To regain public trust, universities must commit to self-examination and meaningful change. Instead of acting as 'architects of change,' universities have become victims of their own inaction, Gee said — unwilling to address thorny issues like free speech, open inquiry and cultural change. Now, he said, those problems are catching up with them. 'We need to make sure we're constantly asking the right question of how we make the institution better,' Gee told me. 'And how do we do it in ways that make common sense for the public that supports us?' Gee's disruptive streak — and his affinity for rural communities — took root in his upbringing in Vernal, Utah, a small town that didn't yet have a movie theater or television when he was growing up. His family owned an oil business that was started by his grandfather, along with several car dealerships and the only bank in town. For a time, all signs pointed to Gee becoming a third-generation banker. But eventually, the family sold the bank. Gee's childhood revolved around The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the Boy Scouts and 4-H. His family emphasized the value of education. His mother was a schoolteacher, and Gee became a voracious reader and a regular at the local library. He served as student body president in both elementary and high school, graduating as valedictorian. 'I was the guy that everyone loved to hate,' Gee told me. At the University of Utah, where he studied history, Gee's path took a decisive turn. Although Gee initially considered a medical career, his plans shifted after meeting Neal A. Maxwell, a prominent educator and future member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Maxwell became a close mentor and friend, encouraging Gee to consider law as a route to leadership in higher education. Even in college, Gee's ability to work the room and befriend others stood out. 'He liked practical jokes, often on himself as well as anyone else,' recalled Cecil Samuelson, the former president of Brigham Young University who belonged to the same fraternity as Gee at the University of Utah. 'He was comfortable in his own skin, and he always wore a bow tie,' Samuelson said. After serving a mission in Bavaria, Germany, Gee earned both a law degree and a doctorate in education from Columbia University, completing both in four and a half years. He went on to clerk for a federal judge before becoming a judicial fellow and staff assistant to Chief Justice Warren Burger, a conservative on the Supreme Court who had been nominated by Richard Nixon. Gee later returned to Utah, where he joined the J. Reuben Clark Law School at BYU as a professor and associate dean before moving to West Virginia to become the dean of the law school and within two years, a university president. In 2006, Samuelson invited Gee to give a speech at the BYU Forum. 'Everything I know about being a Latter-day Saint, I've learned from running universities,' Gee said in the address. 'If you think this is a popularity contest, you're in the wrong business.' Gordon Gee While he was cognizant of politics, he managed to stay above the fray. 'He was not viewed as a political figure,' Fisher said, but as a president 'working to try to make the university the best it could be.' Throughout his career, Gee became known for his fundraising prowess — or 'friend-raising,' as he calls it. During his tenure, the West Virginia University Foundation raised record-breaking funds — in the last fiscal year, it brought in more than $282 million, the most ever in the foundation's 70-year history. He's viewed his presidency more as vocation, not a job — even a kind of ministry. Nearly every night, he spends two to three hours writing notes and emails to people he has met that week. Benson, who will succeed Gee on July 15, told me he's gotten a note from Gee after every single interaction and meeting he's had with him. 'He does it in genuine ways,' Benson said. 'Gordon has a unique trait to make everyone feel important.' Although Gee and Benson had known each other, Gee didn't know that Benson had applied for the job. 'He's going to be a great president,' he said. Sure enough, the day after I met Gee, I received an email from him, which said: 'As you can tell, the university presidency is a wonderful world in which to live but it is also very intense.' I asked Gee what it was like, personally, to watch his university community reeling from the upheaval that followed the announcement of layoffs and program cuts which included language programs. The experience, he said, was painful. 'If I didn't grieve for them, then I obviously wouldn't have a sense of human kindness in me,' he said. 'But I believed in the higher purpose.' In 2023, the university faculty voted no confidence in Gee, a move which is largely symbolic. While the the Board of Governors backed Gee, the faculty resolution accused Gee of financial mismanagement and failure to protect the academic integrity and mission of the institution. He anticipated the fallout, Gee said, and had calibrated the process and its timing: In 2023, he first announced his retirement, and shortly after, rolled out the sweeping academic cuts to address a $45 million budget shortfall or a structural deficit, which is a more accurate term, according to Gee. 'We determined that we were going to be very transparent, which is very difficult,' he said. 'Universities are very opaque institutions.' He believes that the cuts were essential for the long-term stability of the institution — and for preserving future jobs. 'There are many people now who have jobs who would not have had jobs had we not made those decisions,' he said. Gee stands by the choices he made: 'I believe that people of good will, if they had the same information that I have, would make the same decision.' Over the years, Gee has grown accustomed to criticism — from scrutiny over what some considered lavish spending at Vanderbilt to offhand remarks about Roman Catholics and questions over his administrative decisions. But Gee, whose self-effacing nature seems to make him only more relatable, is quick to admit his mistakes. 'Sometimes there was legitimate criticism,' he acknowledged. 'You always learn from those kinds of things.' Without thick skin and 'nerves like sewer pipes,' a university president doesn't stand a chance, he told me. 'If you think this is a popularity contest, you're in the wrong business,' he said. Samuelson told me one of the biggest challenges of being a university president is earning the trust of diverse constituencies — faculty, students, donors. 'And I think that's one of the things about Gordon Gee. People would say: 'Maybe we didn't always agree with him, but we felt he was fair and trustworthy. We could count on him to do what he said he would do.'' I asked Gee what accomplishment he was most proud of throughout the span of his career. 'After 45 years, the fact that I survived,' he joked. Then, in a more serious tone, he spoke about building a robust, high-quality health system in West Virginia that now serves about 90% of the state's residents and includes facilities like a new children's hospital and a planned cancer center. 'I came to realize very early on that without a healthy population, we can't do any of the other things,' he said. As we stepped out of the historic Stewart Hall, the college's film crew was waiting outside for Gee, ready to film his farewell message to the graduates, who were mingling for various end-of-year festivities. He then floated from one picnic table to another, chatting with students about their highlights at West Virginia and their plans after graduation. It was already 80 degrees and wasn't yet summer, but Gee didn't seem fazed. 'It's time to sit by the pool,' one woman told Gee. 'Sit by the pool?' Gee responded as if such a thing was utterly inconceivable. 'Not a fat chance. I'll do something.' After losing his first wife to cancer and his second to divorce, he's now engaged to be married again. In May he told graduating seniors, 'my best days lie ahead.' Gee hasn't committed to the next project — he's considering several possibilities, all of which would keep him in West Virginia. Before we said goodbye, I asked Gee where his audacity comes from. Some of it, he said, came with age. He couldn't have imagined carrying out the changes at West Virginia as a 36-year-old president. He would have been too worried about public perception, he said. Not anymore. What changed? He paused before answering. 'I wish I knew. It's in my DNA,' he said. 'I have no fear.'
Yahoo
26-05-2025
- Health
- Yahoo
Patients navigate an ‘absolutely insane' maze to afford weight-loss drugs
Laura Davisson is an obesity medicine doctor and professor at West Virginia University, but a growing part of her job is not something she trained for in medical school: looking for the best deal she can get for her patients. 'It's crazy,' she said of the ever-changing insurance landscape for weight-loss medications. 'It's absolutely insane to try to keep up with it all.' Subscribe to The Post Most newsletter for the most important and interesting stories from The Washington Post. Across the country, doctors who treat patients for obesity are being forced to develop what amounts to a subspecialty in navigating health coverage for the most popular class of weight-loss medications, known as GLP-1 drugs. The spotty insurance coverage for obesity is dividing patients into classes of haves and have-nots as many insurers throttle back access. With list prices in excess of $1,000 a month, the cost of a single prescription is not extraordinary for health plans and employers, but the pressure of millions of patients seeking them is creating a major financial drain. So insurers are capping expenses by erecting a variety of hurdles before covering a GLP-1 drug for obesity - or ending coverage altogether. Doctors and patients are mounting insurance appeals, hunting for lower-cost alternatives and devising strategies to ration doses of their drugs. More patients are turning directly to drugmakers Eli Lilly and Novo Nordisk, which offer discounted cash prices for those who lack insurance coverage. 'The cash-pay option, in my mind, is becoming so much more appealing for people who can afford it,' Davisson said. Still, the discounted price - which runs to $6,000 a year - puts these drugs beyond the reach of an untold number of patients. 'We're talking about long-term care here. It's very hard for people to afford medicine that costs hundreds of dollars a month,' said Katherine Saunders, co-founder of FlyteHealth and an assistant professor at Weill Cornell Medicine. Insurance coverage for obesity medications 'seems to be getting a bit better,' she said, but the continuous changes have caused anxiety for patients and extra work for clinicians. The patchwork of insurance coverage means doctors must track changes in coverage and sometimes help patients transition from one drug to another with the shifts, said Jaime Almandoz, medical director of the Weight Wellness Program at UT Southwestern Medical Center. 'What we see is widening disparities in terms of access to care,' said Almandoz, who consults for Eli Lilly and Novo Nordisk. 'It places additional strain on clinical teams that not only delays access to care but really strains the infrastructure of care within the office.' Patients with GLP-1 prescriptions for obesity filled just 28 percent of them in 2024, while health plans denied coverage for 62 percent of such prescriptions, according to data analytics firm IQVIA. At the same time, the firm clocked a sharp jump in patients paying cash, with 53 percent of prescriptions filled that way, up from 11 percent in 2023. CVS Caremark, a large pharmacy-benefit manager, this month negotiated a deal with Novo Nordisk to get a discount on the drugmaker's Wegovy in exchange for making it the preferred option on its national menu of drugs covered by commercial insurance. The change will probably force thousands of patients to switch from Eli Lilly's Zepbound, which had superior efficacy to Wegovy in clinical trials. Blue Cross Blue Shield plans in Massachusetts, Michigan and Pennsylvania are among insurers that have stopped covering GLP-1 drugs for obesity or plan to, citing excessively high costs. The federal Medicare insurance program does not cover the medications for obesity but does cover Zepbound for sleep apnea and Wegovy for reducing cardiovascular risk. Many patients who lack insurance coverage have turned to cheaper, pharmacy-made imitations of Zepbound and Wegovy that are not approved by the Food and Drug Administration. But these are becoming less available since the agency directed pharmacies to cease making them in bulk. Davisson, the West Virginia physician, has sometimes resorted to prescribing Ozempic - a diabetes drug that has the same active ingredient as Wegovy - to patients for weight loss because it comes in an auto-injector pen that can be dialed to nonstandard doses to extend its use. The practice, called 'click counting' - in effect, rationing - works only for patients who can lose weight on a smaller dose. The reckoning over the high cost of these weight-loss drugs has played out most visibly among health plans that cover state employees. North Carolina's health plan stopped covering Wegovy and Zepbound last year for state workers after officials determined they would need to double premiums to pay for GLP-1 costs. Colorado's health plan will cease covering GLP-1 medications for weight loss in July after costs more than quadrupled in the last six months of 2024 from a year earlier, though employees actively taking the drugs will be grandfathered in. The health insurance industry's trade group, AHIP, said health plans and employers must balance cost and health outcomes. While the weight-loss drugs work well for many, it said in a statement, 'others have difficulty tolerating these treatments, experience complications, or simply choose to discontinue use.' The Institute for Clinical and Economic Review, which analyzes the cost-effectiveness of prescription drugs, said in an April paper that while the popular obesity drugs 'represent a reasonable value to the health system, the rising tide of GLP-1 use and the scale of potentially eligible individuals has raised serious affordability concerns among both public and private payers.' These cost pressures are what drove CVS Caremark to strike the deal with Novo Nordisk to cover Wegovy instead of Zepbound. About a third of Caremark's clients have opted not to cover GLP-1 drugs 'because of the high cost of these medications,' Prem Shah, a CVS executive vice president, told financial analysts May 1. The agreement will save its clients 10 to 15 percent, according to the company. But for patients, it could mean losing less weight. A clinical trial funded by Eli Lilly found that participants taking its drug, Zepbound, lost 50 pounds on average compared with 33 pounds for those taking Wegovy over 72 weeks. CVS said that 'clinical trial results often differ from use in a real-world setting' and that it will grant exceptions for 'medical necessity' on a case-by-case basis. Given such changes, some are ditching insurance and filling their prescriptions directly from drugmakers. Eli Lilly launched its discounted self-pay option last summer with vials of Zepbound that patients have to draw and inject with syringes, instead of its typical auto-injector pen. The company brought in more than $200 million in revenue during the first three months of 2025 from self-pay patients, who accounted for about 25 percent of new Zepbound prescriptions over that time. Novo Nordisk launched its own direct-to-consumer pharmacy in March, offering a discounted rate for all doses of Wegovy in its standard pen. On Thursday, the company unveiled a promotion for self-pay patients to get any dose of Wegovy for $200 for the first month, targeting people who had been taking pharmacy-made versions that often sell for that price. Still, there is a profound difference between paying $500 and having a $25-a-month co-pay, which is what Kevin Sykes had been paying for Wegovy until early this year. Sykes, a 56-year-old employee of the Defense Health Agency, was prescribed Wegovy to help control his blood pressure. He is covered by the Blue Cross Blue Shield plan for federal workers, which also paid for Wegovy for his wife and daughter. All of them had lost considerable weight and were happy with the treatment. But the health plan put Wegovy on a less-preferred tier starting this year, which Sykes discovered when his daughter went to refill her prescription and the pharmacy told her it would cost $700. 'She just left it there and walked away,' Sykes said in January. The Blue Cross Blue Shield plan for federal employees has explained the change by saying that 'the rapid increase in the use of weight loss GLP-1s is the main factor increasing costs' and that it had to make adjustments to maintain its premiums. Sykes, who has a master's in health care administration, decided to push for a waiver for himself and his family members through their doctors. When that failed, he and his wife tried a non-GLP-1 drug called Contrave for several weeks at the health plan's insistence. Sykes said he gained back weight and experienced dizziness, and his wife also had side effects. In late April, the health plan granted Sykes and his wife a tier exception, and they are able to take Wegovy at the previous rate for six months, he said in an interview Friday. Because he has been off the medication for three months, his doctor prescribed him a much lower dose than he had been taking. 'I gained 20 pounds,' Sykes said of the time between stopping and restarting Wegovy. 'My blood pressure went up,' he said, adding that his understanding of the system helped him prevail. 'Some people don't have insight on how health systems work, so they give up,' he said. Switching treatments was 'a needless hurdle.' Related Content The D.C. plane crash took her mom and sister. She turned to her piano. Johnson again corrals GOP factions to pass Trump's sweeping tax bill Trump is canceling protections for thousands of migrants. But some remain unscathed.
