In a country that regularly boasts about its superior medical system, such results might be cause for outrage. But although dialysis is a lifeline for almost 400,000 Americans, few outside this insular world have probed why a program with such compassionate aims produces such troubling outcomes. Even during a fervid national debate over health care, the state of dialysis garnered little public attention.

Over the course of more than a year, I reviewed thousands of inspection reports and interviewed more than 100 patients, advocates, doctors, policy makers, researchers, and industry experts to get a grasp on American dialysis care. The findings were bleak: at clinics from coast to coast, patients commonly receive treatment in settings that are unsanitary and prone to perilous lapses in care. Regulators have few tools and little will to enforce quality standards. Industry consolidation has left patients with fewer choices of provider. The government withholds critical data about clinics’ performance from patients, the very people who need it most. Meanwhile, the two corporate chains that dominate the dialysis-care system are consistently profitable, together making about $2 billion in operating profits a year.

One reason that dialysis’s problems have evolved out of the health-care spotlight is that kidney failure disproportionately afflicts minorities and the dispossessed. But given a patient pool growing by 3 percent a year and the outsize 6 percent bite that the kidney program takes from the Medicare budget, we ignore dialysis at our own risk. “We’re offering our patients a therapy we wouldn’t accept for ourselves,” said Dr. Tom F. Parker, a Dallas nephrologist and national advocate for better care. More and more leaders in the field, he told me, “are starting to say this isn’t sufficient.”

As the United States moves to expand access to health care, dialysis offers potent lessons. Its story expresses the fears of both ends of the ideological spectrum about what can happen when the doors to care are thrown wide open: neither government controls nor market forces have kept costs from ballooning or ensured the highest-quality care. Almost every key assumption about how the program would unfold has proved wrong.

The Sharp End of the Needle

Henry Baer went in for his third dialysis treatment on New Year’s Eve day in 2005. It turned out to be his last.

He was only 39, but years of diabetes and high blood pressure had caused Baer’s kidneys to shut down. Built-up waste and fluid were causing his limbs to swell and making him short of breath. He was sent for what’s called in-center hemodialysis, the most common type of dialysis, at a beige-toned clinic near his home in Prescott Valley, Arizona.

His first two sessions were pretty normal. A patient-care technician hooked Baer to a filing-cabinet-size machine, connecting it with plastic tubing to the catheter in his chest. He sat in a lounge chair, still as stone, for about four hours as the machine, whirring gently, pushed his blood through a series of filters, then returned it, cleansed of toxins. It was uncomfortable and boring. “Sis, this isn’t for me,” he told his older sister, Karen Gable, vowing to make himself a viable candidate for a kidney transplant.