ALLENTOWN, PA. — 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, 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.
... [The article continues exploring the dynamics surrounding medical deportation, personal stories, and ongoing legislative efforts.]
