The Brief

In Bloomington, a small community of some 24,000 people in unincorporated San Bernardino County, people ride horses next to big rig trucks rushing to warehouses. Solar panels adorn the roofs of homes next to truck yards — the panels sometimes paid for by warehouse developers.

Like so much of Southern California, Bloomington is a place of contrasts.

Over the last 15 years or so, this once-rural town that’s bordered by the cities of Fontana, Rialto and Jurupa Valley has been surrounded by warehouses being built to support our online shopping habits and the supply chain corridor from the ports of L.A. and Long Beach. That pipeline is one of the largest sources of the Southland’s health-harming and planet-heating pollution.

A partially demolished home in Bloomington, where a 213-acre warehouse project is being developed.

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And now, 117 homes and small ranches in Bloomington are being demolished to make way for yet another warehouse — the largest one yet in the community. The project will bring more than 2 million square feet of warehouse space built by Orange County company Howard Industrial Partners. The project is expected to bring more than 1,000 additional big rig truck trips per day.

After years of debate, San Bernardino County supervisors unanimously approved the project in 2022. Today, everyone in the development’s way — the non-numbered streets of Bloomington — have been bought out and homes have already been demolished.

The project was able to happen because back in 2017, the county designated the non-numbered streets of Bloomington as a potential area for re-zoning and development to boost tax revenue to fund more services for the community.

Construction progress has now stalled due to a lawsuit against the project brought by environmental justice groups. (County Supervisor Joe Baca, who represents Bloomington, declined an interview with LAist due to the ongoing litigation).

But those who want to stay in Bloomington worry the warehouse will mean the end of their small town and rural lifestyle. Others say the project is necessary to get badly needed infrastructure improvements.

The site of the future warehouse project, which will bring more than 2 million square feet of warehouse space to Bloomington.

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A changing community

I meet Margaret Razo and her husband Rafael at a park that will be right across the street from the new warehouse project and next door to another warehouse being developed in Jurupa Valley.

The 54-year-old grew up in Bloomington and has watched the community transform.

“Bloomington was so pretty, so beautiful,” Razo said. “And, just driving over here now, it's awful. All the houses are torn down. Childhood homes of our friends. I almost want to cry thinking about how much Bloomington has changed.”

Rafael and Margaret Razo live in a house near the new warehouse development in Bloomington. They regularly receive calls from developers asking if they want to sell.

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When she was a kid, the road in front of her family’s house was dirt. Her little brother and sister played Little League at the park we’re sitting at. The park has changed too … but for the better, thanks to recent donations the county received to improve the park, with a new skate park, children’s play structure and well-kept grass. She loves seeing people ride horses around town.

The warehouse project will be across the street from a park and baseball field. Another warehouse being developed in neighboring Jurupa Valley is also being developed just west of the field.

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“We just never left Bloomington because we loved it,” Razo said. “And it's the first time in my whole entire life that I've ever thought maybe it's time to leave. Because I feel like we're being pushed out by industry.”

Though they’re not within the bounds of this project — they live in the numbered streets of Bloomington — they’re close to it, and Razo said calls from warehouse developers offering to buy the home she and her husband live in are constant.

“It just takes one person to sell,” said Rafael.

But Razo said she can’t blame others for selling.

“My cousin is a teacher at Colton High School and she said she was talking to someone and the guy told her, ‘You know, if they're offering me a million dollars for my house, and I'm going to be able to send my kids to college now, how can I say no to that?’” Razo said.

“At first I was mad at the people who were accepting the money and leaving Bloomington because I'm like, ‘Oh, they don't really love Bloomington,’” Razo continued. “How can you blame them? These big old companies are coming in and just throwing money at people and it's such a poor community. And it just keeps chipping away and chipping away more at Bloomington.”

For some people, the buyouts, which have all been at or above fair market value, were welcome. I spoke to one Bloomington resident who lives with his grandmother across from the construction site — he declined to share his name, but said they want to move to Yucaipa due to rising crime in Bloomington and his grandmother’s desire to be in a more rural area. He said they were excited to be in conversation with the developer for a generous buyout, but those discussions have now halted due to the lawsuit.

Razo said if they left, she doesn’t know where they’d go. After all, Bloomington is home. She raised her own children here, her siblings still live here, and her parents are buried here.

“If they start chipping away at my neighborhood, I don't know,” Razo said. “We're gonna be the little 'Up' house [referring to the movie “Up”]. I don't want to leave, but I feel like they're pushing me out. There's going to be nothing left of the character of Bloomington, the place that we grew up in, it's just going to be all gone.”

A rural lifestyle coming to an end

I run into Felipe Ortiz and his daughter Fatima while he’s picking her up from Bloomington High School, which is across the street from the future warehouse project. He, his wife and three kids rent a house in the path of the warehouse. One day they were startled by a bulldozer destroying palm trees Ortiz had planted and fencing on the property. Their landlord didn’t tell them that he’d sold the house to the developer.

Felipe Ortiz shows a photo of his children, who grew up riding horses.

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Felipe Ortiz and daughter Fatima outside Bloomington High School. Ortiz and his family are currently looking for somewhere else to live after their landlord sold the house they rent to a warehouse developer.

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Like many people in the area, they own horses, goats and other livestock and thought Bloomington was a place where they could maintain their rural lifestyle and connection to their Mexican roots. Now, they don’t know what they’ll do.

“It’s hard that we can't find anywhere to go because we don't have the money to buy a house,” Ortiz said in Spanish. “I have to protect my family and my animals.”

15-year-old Fatima said the whole experience has been so stressful she’s had trouble focusing in school.

“I be seeing machines going through, passing by my house, and I be getting scared,” she said. “And then sometimes I get the feeling of not wanting to come to school. Even if I do, I be thinking about the house instead of thinking about my subjects at school.”

Across the street from where I talk with the Ortiz’s, I meet 15-year-old Jose Sanchez and 17-year-old Francisco Plascencia riding their horses, something they do every day. They grew up riding, and even in their short lives they’ve seen other warehouse projects already change the community — more big rig trucks driving the roads, and less open space to ride their horses.

“I grew up here in Bloomington so seeing everything go away … it kind of hurts me,” said Sanchez.

For now, he said, they’ll have to appreciate riding their horses around town as much as they can.

“Just enjoy what we have right now,” Sanchez said. “Until the time comes, if they do end up buying our property, it is what it is.”

Jose Sanchez, left, and Francisco Plascenscia grew up riding horses in Bloomington and have seen the community become more industrial over the years.

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A necessary project? 

Others in the community say the project is desperately needed.

Like many unincorporated areas, Bloomington has a lack of basic infrastructure, such as sidewalks, sewage lines and flood control. That’s led to persistent flooding issues and dangerous traffic conditions. Many community members also worry about public safety with little law enforcement dedicated to the area.

“The residents of Bloomington need better streets, better schools, good paying jobs and law and order,” said Irma Hansel, who's lived in Bloomington for more than 40 years, at the 2022 supervisor’s meeting when the project was approved. “We believe that the Bloomington project is a way to help to achieve prosperity and a better future for the residents of Bloomington.”

“Personally, my family and I would love to go one winter without our house flooding or having a river that builds up in my backyard, [taking] my 68-year-old mom along with it when she tried to redirect the water without success,” said resident Raquel Diaz at that same meeting.

To address the flooding issues, traffic conditions, and public safety concerns, the developer has promised to spend:

• $39 million for 2.2 miles of street improvements like sidewalks and traffic signals (some of those street improvements will also support an increase in truck traffic expected from the project).
• $30 million to build a 13-acre drainage basin and 2 miles of storm drains 
• More than $1 million in tax revenue per year will go to a fund for Bloomington to spend on public safety, code enforcement and parks. $6.4 million in one-time funding will go to a Bloomington-specific infrastructure fund. 
• $45 million for a brand new elementary school because the old one is right next to the project
• 198 apartment units will be built in another part of Bloomington to make up for the homes destroyed and comply with California's housing law. 

The project is also expected to generate more than 3,200 permanent local jobs and some 5,450 union construction jobs, as well as $500 million in tax revenue for the county over 30 years.

A FedEx truck drives past a trucking terminal in Bloomington. The new "Bloomington Business Park" isn't the first warehouse development to come to Bloomington, but it's the largest.

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A spokesperson for the developer said in a statement to LAist that the property will be landscaped with mature trees and drought-tolerant plants and that electric charging infrastructure will be installed to power electric forklifts and other heavy duty electric equipment onsite.

“If you're going to get infrastructure improvements, it's going to come out of one of two sets of hands — it's either going to come out of the business and development community," said Gary Grossich, a 45-year Bloomington resident, "or it's going to come from the residents. The residents don’t have that kind of money."

Meaning, taxes. Unincorporated areas often lack basic infrastructure because they have less tax revenue, and the revenue that does exist is stretched across an entire county.

Truck yards like this one are common in Bloomington.

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“So unfortunately — you can maybe call it a trade-off — for these types of infrastructure improvements that the community needs, we have to rely on the development community to bring in these types of projects because that's the only thing that's going to pencil out for that type of a huge, tens of millions of dollars of investment in a community,” Grossich said.

Grossich owns a pizza restaurant in neighboring Colton and has lived in Bloomington for 45 years. His home is near the development.

Grossich said he’s been against past warehouse projects in the community, but he thinks this one is the gold standard and will bring more benefit than harm.

Bloomington resident Gary Grossich stands outside his restaurant in Colton. He believes the warehouse project will bring more benefit than harm to Bloomington.

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A dream of becoming a city that can keep warehouses out

Grossich serves on the Bloomington Municipal Advisory Committee, or MAC, a non-voting group of community members that liaison between the community and county supervisors.

Gary Grossich owns a pizza shop in Colton, where he grew up, and moved to Bloomington 45 years ago after purchasing his dream home with his wife.

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He says that’s part of the problem — because Bloomington is unincorporated it has too little political representation. He worries that if Fontana and Rialto continue to build warehouses on Bloomington’s borders — multiple projects are planned, with land already leveled to make way for them — those cities will be able to annex Bloomington and turn all of it into warehousing space.

“The idea is that we want people that live in Bloomington to make these decisions, not people from outside,” Grossich said. “For Bloomington to ever get to the point where we can make our own decisions, it is going to be necessary to find funding. It was never the intention of the MAC to make Bloomington into any type of a warehouse central or anything like that. As a matter of fact, we wanted to preclude that from happening.”

Ultimately, he sees this project as a necessary step for Bloomington to generate enough revenue to become its own city, so it can ideally elect people from the community who will keep further warehouse development out.

He envisions a city that has some warehouses, but also has a thriving downtown corridor full of local businesses, restaurants and homes.

“Each individual project, you gotta weigh the pros and cons,” Grossich said. “All projects have impacts, no matter what it is. You can build a church, it's gonna have impacts. The question really is, can you mitigate the impacts to beyond a significant level.”

The foundation of a home demolished where the future warehouse project is planned.

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A dangerous precedent?  

Joaquin Castillejos, an organizer with the Center for Community Action and Environmental Justice, worries that relying on warehouse development for necessary infrastructure improvements in unincorporated areas sets a dangerous precedent, and that there are not enough protections in place now to prevent future warehouse expansion into the numbered streets of Bloomington.

He said it’s up to the county to find the needed funding for building safe infrastructure without approving a project that brings more heavy truck traffic and pollution near residential areas, schools and a park.

People walk along a residential street. The green fencing on the right is where part of the warehouse development will be. The developer purchased a palm tree nursery.

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“The county has a responsibility to the residents of Bloomington to keep up with the infrastructure, to fix our streets and to make sure that it's a livable area,” he said.

The county said in a statement to LAist that it's made "significant investments" in Bloomington in recent years, including street improvements, an affordable housing project, a sewer installation on Valley Boulevard, a new park and additional dedicated sheriff's deputies to the area, among other things.

"There are challenges throughout the County, as with any government agency, to meet all the needs with funding not being unlimited," the statement to LAist read. "However the County has done well toward investing in Bloomington."

Castillejos said this new warehouse project is different from others for its scale and because the county rezoned a residential area to industrial to make way for the warehouse project. Unincorporated areas in the Inland Empire such as Bloomington have been some of the few places left in a state with rising housing costs where people, like Castillejos’ family, can still afford to buy their own homes.

Castillejos grew up in Bloomington after his family moved there from an apartment in south L.A. to achieve their dream of buying a house in the early 2000s. He lives in Pomona now, but his parents still live in Bloomington, two blocks from another large warehouse project that was built in neighboring Fontana.

Warehouses dominate the Inland Empire

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Courtesy of Riverside Art Museum

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“There's nothing that they can say to justify creating an industrial zone in the middle of a residential area, but that's exactly what they did,” he said. “This project will just be the beginning of more types of developments like this, where they target residential areas in other unincorporated areas in the county.”

Though homes have already been demolished, Castillejos hopes the current lawsuit against the project at least sends a message to future warehouse developers.

“I'm hoping that this lawsuit shows all other developers that if you want to do a project like this,” he said, “there's going to be consequences.”

Joseph Babbitt of Springfield, Mo. has a pretty good deal when it comes to health insurance. He works as a senior financial controller for West Plains Veterinary Supply, which employs about 50 people and distributes pet food, toys and vet supplies across the region.

Like about 157 million Americans, Babbitt gets insurance through his job. Unlike most Americans, his job has exceptionally generous benefits. "Our owners are very nice — they give all of our employees healthcare and they pay for it," he says. The company offers several different plan options and covers most or all of the monthly premium cost.

So why, even with free premiums, does it still feel like health costs are way too expensive? "Everybody talks about healthcare and how much it's costing them," says Babbitt. He explains that even without monthly premiums, a high deductible can be brutal — that's the amount the patient has to spend out-of-pocket before the insurance company starts paying for doctors visits and procedures, etc.

Now age 60, he remembers a time when it wasn't so bad. "Back in the '90s, our deductibles were $250 [or] $500 — now they're $5,000," he says. "That seems like a lot."

"We are the only country on our planet that forces people into bankruptcy because they get sick," he adds.

The cost of a new car, every year

Healthcare costs are rising fast in the U.S., and even workers with solid healthcare benefits through work are feeling it, according to an annual survey of nearly 2,000 employers about their health benefits. The report was published Thursday by KFF, a nonpartisan health research organization.

"The average health insurance premium for a family of four is now $28,000, which is just a ton of money," says Matthew Rae, associate director for the Health Care Marketplace Program at KFF. "It's basically the cost of a new car every year just to keep a family of four insured." Of that total for family premiums, workers pay about $7,000 per year on average and employers pay the rest.

A glimmer of positivity is that the costs for plans isn't growing as fast as it has in years past, he explains. "We're seeing a 5% increase in family health insurance premiums, which continues a period of modest growth," he says. That increase is roughly on par with worker wages and inflation.

However, "a 5% increase on a big number is still a lot of money," Rae points out. Plus, the growth for the portion of the premium costs that workers pay was 9%. "If this is the beginning of a shift of costs onto workers, that would be a big deal in terms of affordability," he says.

"We are asking people to chip in a lot of money," Rae adds. "Many people are committing a big chunk of their income to health insurance."

The uninsured rate is rising 

Another report published Thursday demonstrates the way these high costs affect people's health. The survey, conducted every two years by the Commonwealth Fund, a nonprofit foundation that supports independent research, is entitled "The State of Health Insurance Coverage in 2026."

Even for workers fortunate enough to have health benefits, "about 43% of them said that they didn't get healthcare because of cost over the past year, and about 31% reported that they had medical debt," says Sara Collins, lead author of the report.

Another key finding was that the overall uninsured rate rose in the last two years. Collins says that's significant but not surprising, because of federal policy decisions like letting extra federal subsidies for people enrolled in Affordable Care Act plans expire, and people losing Medicaid after the pandemic emergency ended.

Federal data shows millions of people have lost health coverage already from either Medicaid or the ACA marketplaces. When work requirements take effect next year, millions more people are projected to lose Medicaid.

"There is a, I think, a strong feeling across the country that something probably does need to be done to the situation that people are facing in their health and health insurance — both on the cost side and then also on these coverage losses," Collins says.

"We asked people whether the federal government has a responsibility to ensure that all Americans have coverage and nearly three quarters said yes to that — that included about 45% of Republicans, 93% of Democrats and 76% of independents."

Copyright 2026 NPR

Mike Obedoza’s Lumpia Smash Burger begins with the flavorful marinade his mother uses for making lumpia, a crispy Filipino spring roll. He folds it into a beef patty, then tops it with a fried lumpia wrapper, creamy avocado slices and fresh jalapeño.

For Obedoza, who grew up in Carson as the son of Filipino immigrants and now resides in Tustin, the burger is more than a winning recipe. “This is me on a plate,” he said.

Fresh off back-to-back Best Burger wins at the Old Towne Burger Fest in Orange County, Obedoza has landed a residency at Grand Central Market in downtown L.A. as Banger Lumpia.

He attributes his current success to the broader Filipino American food moment happening in Southern California, from Lord Maynard Llera of Kuya Lord winning Best Chef: California at the 2024 James Beard Awards to other Filipino food business upstarts' local success, including San & Wolves in Long Beach.

Mike Obedoza works the griddle, making Filipino-American Smashburger dreams come true.

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“I’m one component of a whole movement that’s happening right now,” he said.

His residency closes this weekend as part of Filipino American History Month, capping off a whirlwind couple of months Obedoza doesn’t take for granted, especially the love he's received from his own community.

“We get a lot of Filipinos that pass by us glowing. … They’re stoked that there’s some Filipino representation,” he said.

Building the burger

Before Banger Lumpia, Obedoza’s pop-up was called Banger, and he folded Filipino flavors like sisig into tacos. Once customers learned the food was Filipino, they kept asking for the classics. “Where’s the lumpia? Where’s the pancit?” he recalled.

Since lumpia filling is marinated ground meat, a burger felt like the natural next step. Obedoza took the marinade from his mother’s lumpia recipe (onions, carrots, soy sauce and fish sauce) and worked it into an all-beef smash patty.

Back-to-back wins: Obedoza’s Lumpia Smashburger took home Best Burger at the Old Towne Burger Fest in 2025 and 2026.

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Jalapeño and avocado add a California finish. “It’s like this perfect blend of being Filipino and Californian,” Obedoza said.

The idea has deep roots in Southern California. Obedoza points to Kogi, the Korean taco truck Roy Choi launched in L.A., which Choi said drew on a kind of local terroir. “I don’t see mustard plants and sheep grazing,” Choi said in a 2014 CNN segment with Anthony Bourdain. “I see barbed wire and telephone poles.”

“It’s a representation of the soil we were raised in," Obedoza said. “I think the Lumpia Smash burger is just my version of that.”

From skater to chef

Growing up in Carson, Obedoza found his creative outlet in rollerblading, competing and filming for sponsors. His favorite skater was Jon Julio, a Filipino American legend of the sport. “That was big for someone, a Filipino growing up in America,” Obedoza said. “I can’t think of anyone else at that time that was a representation of that.”

Obedoza studied hotel and restaurant management at Cal Poly Pomona, where a broken ankle from a skate competition pushed him to get serious about cooking. After graduating in 2007, he completed an accelerated program at the Culinary Institute of America in Greystone in St. Helena. Then, in 2008, he took a trip to the Philippines with his dad that reshaped how he saw himself.

From the skate park to the griddle, Banger Lumpia’s Mike Obedoza puts his whole self on the plate.

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“In the States, I’m Filipino. But when I go there, I’m American,” he said.

Back home, he cooked at hotels including Hyatt and Terranea Resort before moving into marketing and e-commerce. In 2022, he started serving tacos at skate parks under the name Banger. He went full-time in 2023 and has been popping up in L.A. and O.C. ever since.

That same cultural tension carries over into his food. While his Lumpia Smash burger has won praise, Obedoza says some Filipino customers pick apart the more traditional dishes on his menu: the lumpia isn’t made right, they say, the dipping sauce and adobo need more sugar, the adobo isn’t dark enough or has no bone.

“I guess I win on the burgers, but I’ll never win on being Filipino enough,” he said.

He said his cooking reflects his parents’ style and their home region of Central Luzon, north of Manila on the Philippines’ largest island. If it doesn’t match what someone grew up with, he says to get it from their own family.

Despite those differences, Obedoza says that lumpia is “the gateway drug to Filipino food” and hopes that his customers will feel emboldened to try the rest of the menu. He sees the Grand Central Market residency as a test run for an eventual brick-and-mortar. Whatever comes next, he credits one choice: “I went all in on being unique.”

Julia Feinberg feels like she’s living in a sinister version of Groundhog Day. For the second year in a row, California lawmakers have made it tougher for seniors and people with disabilities to qualify for state-funded health benefits.

Feinberg, 37, who has a degenerative neuromuscular disorder, said without Medi-Cal she would be confined to a nursing home rather than living and working as a therapist in Oakland.

“We keep having to have the same fight over and over and over again,” Feinberg said. She requires a power wheelchair and about 19 hours of caregiving each day, which Medi-Cal covers.

California is cutting Medi-Cal after a decade of expansion, part of sweeping federal and state cuts that experts estimate will kick more than 2.2 million Californians off coverage in the next four years, doubling the state’s uninsured rate.

The latest cut came in June, when state leaders approved a budget that will lower the asset limit for low-income seniors and people with disabilities to $21,000 to qualify for Medi-Cal, starting in July 2027. Feinberg, who has built up emergency savings, will have to spend about $10,000 to get under the cap.

In 2024, the state eliminated longstanding Medi-Cal asset limits, but since then lawmakers have chipped away at that policy. At the beginning of this year, state leaders reinstated an asset limit of $130,000, and the June budget lowered it further.

A primary residence and one vehicle are exempt from the new limit, but people 65 and older as well as those with disabilities cannot own a second home or car, and they can’t have more than $21,000 in savings accounts, certain retirement accounts, life insurance policies or even burial plots. They must still meet Medi-Cal income eligibility limits of about $1,800 a month for a single person.

Advocates say the rules unfairly target older people and those with disabilities.

“It’s really expensive to be disabled,” said Elizabette Guéçamburu, 44, who like Feinberg has spinal muscular atrophy and requires a power wheelchair as well as daily caregiving.

Guéçamburu said she’s saving up for a used wheelchair-accessible van, which costs about $75,000. Home modifications such as adding ramps and making bathrooms accessible also cost tens of thousands of dollars, none of which are covered by Medi-Cal. Guéçamburu said those expenses would be impossible to afford if she couldn’t save.

Guéçamburu lives on her family’s farm in Patterson where they grow walnuts, almonds and alfalfa. She works part time as the farm’s bookkeeper. In 2024, doctors diagnosed Guéçamburu’s father with prostate cancer, and he could no longer act as her caregiver. The same year, California eliminated asset limits for people with disabilities and seniors — Guéçamburu cried, able to qualify for Medi-Cal for the first time.

“The timing was a godsend,” she said.

Now, her aging father is unable to take care of her should she lose Medi-Cal, and Guéçamburu is struggling to figure out what to do with money left to her by her grandmother. She’ll likely have to put it into a special needs trust controlled by a family member and give up financial independence. She also had her family strike her from inheriting any portion of their 100-year-old farm. Private home care costs thousands of dollars a month, making it hard for lower- and middle-income people to pay for it out-of-pocket.

“I have to surrender our legacy just to have medical security and have the ability to live my life,” Guéçamburu said.

Asset limit flip-flop

Gov. Gavin Newsom eliminated Medi-Cal asset requirements in 2024 after a yearslong campaign by senior and disability rights advocates. In a statement before the elimination, Newsom said he was proud of the “bold investments” his administration was making to “protect life savings and homes.”

But two years later, faced with a $12 billion budget shortfall, Newsom proposed reinstating the former $2,000 limit, arguing that more than twice as many people enrolled as previously estimated. The Legislature opposed that proposal and compromised at the current higher limit of $130,000, lowering it again to $21,000 starting next July.

Lindsay Imai Hong, California director for Hand In Hand, an advocacy group supporting families that need caregiving, said organizers are looking to the next governor for change.

“We would love to see the asset test permanently taken off of the chopping block,” Imai Hong said.

Republican gubernatorial candidate Steve Hilton said in a statement to CalMatters that he opposes asset limits. He criticized the state for extending other Medi-Cal benefits beyond what it could afford, including coverage for immigrants without legal status.

“Seniors and people with disabilities shouldn’t lose their coverage because they’ve managed to save some money. They’ve done the responsible thing. Why punish them for it?” he said.

Democratic gubernatorial candidate and front-runner Xavier Becerra did not answer specific questions about the asset limit policy, but a campaign spokesperson blamed the Trump administration’s federal cuts for “squeezing” California’s Medi-Cal program.

Becerra will be “focused on protecting access to care and demand savings that are real, measurable and sustainable,” spokesperson Johnathan Underland said. On the campaign trail, Becerra has called himself California’s next “healthcare governor” and has previously floated raising taxes to reverse Medi-Cal cuts, but has not released detailed health policy plans.

Camille Nguyen, an attorney with the Legal Aid Society of San Mateo County, said most people who struggle to stay under the limit have little financial security.

“They have all of their life savings in cash savings instead of a house. That's their retirement. That is the amount they are expecting to live off of for the rest of their life,” Nguyen said.

State data shows about 600 people lost Medi-Cal when California reinstated the $130,000 limit. Advocates expect many more to lose Medi-Cal at the lower limit, but the state never released budget estimates before lawmakers approved the $21,000 limit. If the state reinstated the much lower $2,000 limit, the Department of Finance estimated 62,000 seniors and people with disabilities would lose Medi-Cal over two years.

Limit fuels anxiety, anger among people with disabilities

Feinberg said the prospect of losing Medi-Cal is especially scary because she would also lose access to a special disability program that pays for extra caregiving hours and has a multiyear waitlist. Caregivers help Feinberg get in and out of bed, dress and prepare her meals.

Before the limit was erased in 2024, Feinberg said she checked her bank account every day to make sure the balance was low. At the time, Feinberg was a graduate student and did not earn very much money. Now, as a licensed therapist Feinberg has been able to squirrel away some money.

“I don’t want to spend down that money. I want to save that for retirement, maybe buying a house in the future,” Feinberg said. “The prospect of not being able to have a nest egg is very unsettling.”

Guéçamburu said she’s angry and frustrated that the state views services for people with disabilities as expendable.

“It’s exhausting to have to justify your existence every legislative cycle,” she said.

Supported by the California Health Care Foundation (CHCF), which works to ensure that people have access to the care they need, when they need it, at a price they can afford. Visit www.chcf.org to learn more.

This article was originally published on CalMatters and was republished under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license.