Lydia Chung

A Comfortable Illusion

As someone who has lived in the United States their entire life, I never really thought of healthcare as a risk. Even though my dad is a freelance photographer and we have never had the best coverage, there was always some clinic within driving distance. If it was an emergency visit, a sprained ankle, or possibly something serious, there was always care just a short drive away. 

But as I matured, I came to understand that not everyone around me had shared the same experience.

The View from the Roadside

My father’s photography is more likely to lead us off the highway – quaint villages, endless stretches of highway, and villages that fail to show up on most travel maps. As he is photographing vintage diners or landscapes, I have had the opportunity to share small and meaningful conversations with village citizens. It was there that I started hearing stories I could not stop thinking about.

Stories of families having to travel over an hour for a mere check-up. Of seniors who do not receive treatments because they lack transportation. Of neighborhoods that once had a hospital or clinic, but lost them — gradually, one by one. 

One of the mothers I interviewed described how she had to drive two hours at night to take her child to the closest pediatric urgent care. Another person expressed how the local ER vanished and now they had no idea what they would do if there were an actual emergency.

These were not just individual hardships. They were pieces of a much larger puzzle.

A Crisis Hidden in Plain Sight

Rural healthcare in America is in crisis – but it often gets overlooked. According to the National Rural Health Association, rural Americans face higher rates of chronic disease, poverty, and uninsurance than their urban counterparts. And they are far more likely to live in what the United States Department of Health and Human Services defines as “Health Professional Shortage Areas” (HPSAs) – areas where medical professionals are in dangerously short supply.

Since 2010, over 140 rural hospitals have closed, with many more at risk due to financial instability and lack of staff. Even when a facility remains open, it might be understaffed or unequipped for emergency care. In fact, 25% of rural Americans say they have had to delay or forgo care because of distance or transportation problems.

This is not just inconvenient — it is life-threatening. Studies show that people in rural areas are more likely to die from preventable conditions like heart disease, stroke, and cancer — not because such treatments do not exist, but because they simply cannot access them in time.

When Access is the Barrier 

The ones most affected are not always visible:

The elderly who can no longer drive.

Pregnant women with no OB-GYN within 100 miles.

Children who miss developmental screenings or early care that could shape their future health.

Patients with chronic illnesses who silently deteriorate because the nearest clinic is out of reach.

That was when it really struck me: health access is not so much about carrying insurance — it is about geography, infrastructure, and equity. It is about whether or not you can physically reach the help you need.

I have come to view healthcare inequity not as some far-off issue, but as something deeply personal. The people I met were kind, generous, and resilient – but also tired. Tired of waiting, traveling, and worrying. And I could not stop thinking: what if that was my family? What if we had no clinic around the corner?

Rural, Urban – and In Between

While my reflections have been shaped by rural America, it is important to recognize that geographic isolation is not the only factor behind healthcare inequity. Many people living in urban areas — especially in low-income neighborhoods – also face barriers to care.

Urban “medical deserts” exist where hospitals have closed or never existed. Long wait times, underfunded public hospitals, language barriers, and lack of culturally competent care all contribute to healthcare inequity in cities. Even in areas densely populated with clinics, care can be out of reach due to insurance discrimination, provider shortages, or cost-related delays.

In both urban and rural settings, people are being left behind — not because care does not exist, but because systems fail to bring that care to the people who need it most.

Healthcare inequity, I have realized, is not just about distance — it is about design.

A Spark Towards Change

This experience made me realize how fragile our healthcare system can be, especially for people outside big cities. It pushed me to start learning about the ways technology, like telemedicine, and policy reforms could start to bridge these gaps.

I do not exactly know where this interest will take me, but I do know this: no one should have to drive two hours to see a doctor. No one should feel forgotten because of where they live. And if I can play even a small part in fixing that, I want to try.

Because healthcare should not be about luck or location – it should be about people.