By the time Teresa Hunt finished her second cup of coffee, she’d already taken three calls from patients asking if the clinic would still be open next month.
She didn’t have an answer.
Asher Community Health Center is the only medical facility in Wheeler County, Oregon—1,700 square miles of high desert and hard winter, home to just over 1,400 people. It’s been here for decades. But after the Trump administration’s sweeping federal health cuts this spring, it may not make it through the summer.
“Without the federal money… there’s no way we’ll be here.”
The cuts came fast. In March, the federal government canceled $117 million in Oregon public health grants. Asher lost $3 million overnight—nearly one in every twelve dollars it had. The clinic also depends on the 340B drug pricing program, which lets it buy medications at discounted rates and use the savings to fund services like physical therapy, dental care, and a weekly mobile clinic. But 340B has been gutted too, choked off by new manufacturer restrictions and stalled federal enforcement.
That left Asher with two choices: cut services, or close. Neither is theoretical.
Already, the community health worker program is gone. The mobile unit has been grounded. The weekly medical shuttle from Christmas Valley—130 miles round-trip—was suspended, stranding patients with no way to get to La Pine for labs or specialty care. The fallout is immediate and intimate.
“Peace and quiet can’t treat diabetes or heart disease.”
One of the clinic’s patients, Bobbie Nicoliadis, had relied on that shuttle for years. She used it for blood draws, checkups, medication pickups. Now she’s not sure how she’ll get the care she needs. She’s not the only one.
Asher serves over 1,100 patients annually. Sixty-eight percent live below the federal poverty line. Nearly half rely on Medicaid—coverage also on the chopping block under the administration’s budget proposals. The next closest hospital is a three-hour drive over mountain passes that ice half the year. There’s no urgent care. No backup.
This isn’t some exotic edge case. It’s the healthcare system for an entire county.
And it’s coming undone.
“We’re choosing between care and no care.”
Hunt has tried everything. She testified in Salem. She helped launch the “Save Our Clinic” campaign—50,000 petition signatures and counting. She spoke with lawmakers and sent letters to pharmaceutical companies. She met with local officials to brainstorm workarounds. But money doesn’t materialize from meetings. The bills are still due. Staff still need to be paid.
The clinic employs 47 people—nurses, clerks, lab techs, drivers. In Wheeler County, where there are only 347 full-time jobs total, losing Asher would mean more than losing a doctor’s office. It would be an economic shockwave. But that doesn’t show up in the budget memos. There’s no line item for collapse.
“Everyone’s trying to draw off the system… like a run on the bank.”