Crystal Wise
Barry Corbin has played sheriffs, generals, and gruff-but-wise old cowboys. But the Fort Worth actor’s most heartfelt role these days isn’t on screen — it’s in the real-life drama unfolding around Texas Medicaid. And this time, he’s not reading lines. He’s making a personal appeal.
“You might know me from the screen,” Corbin said in a recent public message, “but my most cherished role is being grandfather to Jordan. Cook Children’s was a lifeline for him, and their care meant the world to our family, just like it does for so many in Texas.”
Corbin, a longtime Fort Worth resident and grandfather to a former Cook Children’s patient, is lending his voice to a growing chorus of Texans sounding the alarm over a seismic — and largely under-the-radar — shift in the state’s health care system. At stake is the Cook Children’s Health Plan, a nonprofit insurance program that currently serves more than 125,000 North Texas children and pregnant women, including thousands with complex medical needs.
“We are facing a critical deadline — June 2nd,” Corbin continued. “Unless you act, 1.8 million Texans… could lose access to their trusted doctors. Lawmakers, your urgent legislative action is needed.”
His call comes amid what advocates are calling the largest Medicaid upheaval in state history. In 2024, the Texas Health & Human Services Commission (HHSC) denied contract renewals to three Texas-based, nonprofit children's hospital plans: Cook Children’s, Texas Children’s in Houston, and Driscoll Children’s in Corpus Christi. Despite a combined six decades of proven service, all three were passed over in favor of out-of-state, for-profit insurers — publicly traded companies beholden to shareholders rather than local families.
According to data provided by cookchildren’s.org, the consequences would be profound. Not only would nearly two million children and expectant mothers be moved off their current plans, but nearly 2,000 Texas jobs could be eliminated. In Tarrant County alone, more than 10,000 medically fragile children — including over 1,700 kids who use wheelchairs and 170 who depend on ventilators — could face delayed or disrupted care.
That’s not just a policy failure — it’s a moral one, Corbin suggests.
He’s not alone in thinking so. Community health advocates warn the move would also drain millions in economic activity from Texas. According to the HHSC, every Medicaid dollar generates $5 in economic return — a multiplier that vanishes when funds are funneled out-of-state. Local investments like Cook Children’s nine neighborhood health centers, maternal health programs, asthma prevention, and child safety initiatives would all be in jeopardy.
“I’m speaking directly to our lawmakers in Austin,” Corbin said. “We risk losing local jobs and sending Texans’ tax dollars out of state. Please remember the crucial role of these community health plans and act now to protect our children before our time runs out.”
The solution, according to advocates, lies in swift legislative action. They’re calling on the Texas Legislature to pass a bill this session that would extend the current nonprofit plans’ contracts through 2027, give families a choice to remain with their trusted providers, and prioritize past performance and quality in future procurement decisions.
Meanwhile, supporters are encouraged to visit www.savecookchildrenshealthplan.com and to post short videos on social media using hashtags like #savecookchildrenshealthplan, #protecttexaskids, #txlege, and #protectcommunityhealthplans.
Corbin, for his part, continues to advocate not as a celebrity, but as a grandfather. As someone who’s seen firsthand the difference this kind of care can make.
“They treat every child like their own,” he said of the Cook Children’s staff. “That’s the kind of care we need to protect.”
