ALLENTOWN, PA. (AP) — Junior Clase’s cluttered kitchen table paints a picture of his life in the United States. Scattered across it are bottles of deodorant and conditioner that he sends back to the Dominican Republic, a Spanish-language Bible and a plastic medical brace for his wife, Solibel Olaverria.
Olaverria began having intense headaches and vomiting five months after she joined her husband in the U.S. In the emergency room, she was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm; during surgery to stop it from rupturing, she suffered a stroke and was induced into a coma.
She left the couple’s Allentown row house in December 2022 and has yet to return. Clase worries she never will.
In February 2023, Clase said, hospital administrators suggested transporting his still-comatose wife to a facility back in the Dominican Republic – an option he refused.
“They told me that they could send her back to my country,” he said – even without his consent. “At that moment, she was missing a piece of her skull. … If they put her in an airplane or a helicopter, it was possible that she would die.”
Though the federal government is the only entity with the jurisdiction to remove people from the U.S., hospitals across the nation sometimes return uninsured noncitizen patients in need of long-term care to their countries of origin.
Advocates call this “medical deportation.” Hospitals and medical transport companies refer to it as “medical repatriation.” By either name, the practice exists in ethical and legal gray areas – without specific federal regulations, widespread public knowledge or a national tracking system.
Facing limited options for care, some immigrant patients and family members may voluntarily decide to continue treatment outside of the U.S. Other times, experts say, the process occurs without full consent.
Experts believe medical deportation happens more than tracking efforts account for, and some worry cases could now increase, given that the practice sits at the intersection of health care and immigration – two systems undergoing drastic change in the second Trump administration.
In May 2023, Olaverria was transferred into a long-term care facility in Allentown. Two months later, she woke up from the coma. She still cannot walk or use the bathroom on her own, and she can speak only a few words.
Later that year, Clase and his wife obtained medical deferred action, which allowed them to temporarily remain in the country and access necessary medical assistance.
As Clase balances work and frequent hospital visits, his devotion to Olaverria remains strong; he dedicates his life to caring for her during their continuing fight against a system that often overlooks immigrant healthcare needs.
Olaverria began having intense headaches and vomiting five months after she joined her husband in the U.S. In the emergency room, she was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm; during surgery to stop it from rupturing, she suffered a stroke and was induced into a coma.
She left the couple’s Allentown row house in December 2022 and has yet to return. Clase worries she never will.
In February 2023, Clase said, hospital administrators suggested transporting his still-comatose wife to a facility back in the Dominican Republic – an option he refused.
“They told me that they could send her back to my country,” he said – even without his consent. “At that moment, she was missing a piece of her skull. … If they put her in an airplane or a helicopter, it was possible that she would die.”
Though the federal government is the only entity with the jurisdiction to remove people from the U.S., hospitals across the nation sometimes return uninsured noncitizen patients in need of long-term care to their countries of origin.
Advocates call this “medical deportation.” Hospitals and medical transport companies refer to it as “medical repatriation.” By either name, the practice exists in ethical and legal gray areas – without specific federal regulations, widespread public knowledge or a national tracking system.
Facing limited options for care, some immigrant patients and family members may voluntarily decide to continue treatment outside of the U.S. Other times, experts say, the process occurs without full consent.
Experts believe medical deportation happens more than tracking efforts account for, and some worry cases could now increase, given that the practice sits at the intersection of health care and immigration – two systems undergoing drastic change in the second Trump administration.
In May 2023, Olaverria was transferred into a long-term care facility in Allentown. Two months later, she woke up from the coma. She still cannot walk or use the bathroom on her own, and she can speak only a few words.
Later that year, Clase and his wife obtained medical deferred action, which allowed them to temporarily remain in the country and access necessary medical assistance.
As Clase balances work and frequent hospital visits, his devotion to Olaverria remains strong; he dedicates his life to caring for her during their continuing fight against a system that often overlooks immigrant healthcare needs.
