ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Laurie Wood is a U.S. Navy veteran, deputy sheriff, law enforcement/firearms instructor, and stand-up comedian. She works in programs administration with the Virginia Beach, Va.-based Warrior for Life Fund.

When the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS) expanded its competitive bidding program to include urological and related medical supplies, the move was framed as a cost-saving measure, at a time when the administration has emphasized improving health outcomes, strengthening health care access, and lowering costs without sacrificing care. But for people who depend on specialized medical supplies every day, including disabled veterans like me, the real-world consequences could be devastating. What may look efficient on paper threatens the fragile balance that allows many of us to stay healthy, stable and independent.

I don’t approach this issue abstractly; I understand exactly what’s at stake because I live with the consequences of supply instability every day. I served our country for 18 years between active duty in the U.S. Navy and the Reserve, and after 9/11, I was mobilized twice and deployed to Afghanistan. Military service shaped who I am. Discipline, responsibility and service to others have always been central to my life, and even after leaving the Navy, that commitment to service continued when I went to work with the Sheriff’s Office, where I was ultimately injured.

I am now a T10-T12 paraplegic living with a spinal cord injury and complex, lifelong medical needs — an injury I have lived with for more than 13 years. Like many people with spinal cord injuries, my disability affects far more than mobility, reaching into nearly every system in my body, particularly bladder and kidney health. Managing those systems safely is not optional or occasional; it is constant.

To manage my bladder safely, I rely on intermittent catheters six to eight times every day for the rest of my life. This is a reality that leaves no room for error or substitution. These supplies are not optional, and they are not interchangeable. The right catheter allows me to manage my health discreetly, prevent infections, protect my kidneys, and live independently, making it possible for me to work, travel, socialize, and fully participate in life rather than constantly reacting to medical crises.

When everything works as it should, I can focus on living, but I know firsthand how quickly that stability disappears when the wrong supplies are forced on patients. I have repeatedly received catheters that are poorly suited for my body or lower in quality, and using the wrong catheter increases my risk of urinary tract infections, pain, trauma, and long-term kidney damage. These are not minor inconveniences; they can escalate quickly into emergency room visits, hospitalizations, missed work, and lasting health consequences, turning what should be routine care into preventable medical emergencies.

That lived experience is why the expansion of competitive bidding is so alarming. Catheters are not one-size-fits-all, and small differences in design, coating, and fit matter, especially for people with spinal cord injuries. If access to the specific catheter that works for my body were limited or eliminated, my health would be at immediate risk, with forced switches leading to more infections, more time in hospitals, and less independence. It would be a step backward in health, dignity and quality of life.

Some may assume this policy won’t affect me because I receive my supplies through workers’ compensation rather than Medicare, but Medicare policies shape the entire medical supply marketplace. When Medicare reimbursement changes, manufacturers respond by reducing product lines or leaving the market altogether, and when that happens, options disappear for everyone, regardless of who pays. Competitive bidding doesn’t just affect Medicare beneficiaries; it affects availability.

Restricting access to the right supplies will not lower health care costs in the long run; it will drive them higher. More infections mean more antibiotics, more emergency room visits, more hospital stays, more home health care, and greater caregiver burden. Preventive care through appropriate supplies is far less expensive than treating avoidable complications, and while competitive bidding may appear to save money on paper, it creates higher costs and worse outcomes in real life.

Disabled veterans have already given years of service to this country, and we should not be forced into one-size-fits-all care that puts our health and independence at risk. The administration must act to ensure safeguards are built into the competitive bidding program, including strong medical-necessity exceptions and protections for specialized supplies, because policies meant to save money should never come at the cost of preventable harm. Veterans deserve care that protects our health, our dignity, and our ability to live full, independent lives.