VA Slashes 35,000 Healthcare Jobs—Are Veterans the Next to Suffer?

Paul Riverbank, 12/14/2025VA slashes 35,000 jobs, sparking fears about rising workloads and care delays for veterans.

"I can't remember the last time we weren't shorthanded," says Sharda Fornnarino, a registered nurse who’s witnessed the slow drip of staff departures across Colorado. She’s been a voice for her colleagues in the local union, but even so, the message from management feels detached from the on-the-ground reality. “We get told that empty jobs don’t need replacing,” she says, “but the patients don’t disappear just because no one was hired.”

According to Pete Kasperowicz, a spokesperson for the VA, most of these positions were created amid the turbulence of the pandemic. “The vast majority of these positions have not been filled for more than a year, underscoring how they are no longer needed,” he explained last week. It’s a line repeated across agency memos: no layoffs, no impact on patient care; just a sensible clearing out of old listings.

But that rationale hasn’t offered much comfort in places like the sprawling VA system in San Diego. Workers there—many already stretched thin from last year’s waves of buyouts and retirements—learned that 322 open posts will vanish, along with any hope for backup. "The idea that relief isn't coming is really, really disappointing," one staff member said, asking not to be named. In the mental health department alone, nearly half of their open slots are getting struck. The kicker: in San Diego, veterans wait as long as 90 days for mental health appointments, sometimes longer.

Staffing headaches at the VA aren’t new, but the circumstances are getting more tangled. In just the last year, the VA’s applicant pool shrank by more than half. Part of the puzzle is the surprising uptick in demand spurred by the PACT Act—legislation expanding benefits for veterans exposed to toxic burn pits. As eligibility grew, so did enrollments. Yet keeping up has meant fighting the same workforce shortages dogging hospitals everywhere.

An internal message circulated to regional bosses spells out the target: slim the entire VA health workforce by roughly 10 percent, dialing down to around 372,000 people. On the ground, some call that a blunt instrument, fearing it could flatten morale and pile more work onto an already weary team.

In Phoenix, the numbers are no less stark—358 slots axed, affecting every department. “We’re already behind on basic appointments,” said one nurse based in the city, sounding resigned. The concern: when you chip away at open positions year after year, at some point, the skeleton crew paying the bills and seeing the patients runs out of bandwidth.

The politics swirling around this are familiar. Secretary Douglas Collins, under pressure from Capitol Hill, had already scaled back ambitions for a deeper round of cuts. Congress intervened to protect critical units, barring the VA from slashing suicide prevention jobs or dipping below minimal staffing for processing claims. Still, the agency hopes a leaner management layer—less bureaucracy, fewer regional offices—might free up resources for frontline services, though union leaders call the process rushed and opaque.

Thomas Dargon Jr., who speaks for the nurses’ union nationally, was blunt when he heard about the looming changes. “The VA has been chronically understaffed for years,” he said. If the trend keeps up, the agency may end up asking the same tired group of workers to stretch even further.

For now, VA leadership insists that these job cuts—targeting roles left empty long before—should not touch the level of care veterans actually receive. Yet among those who know the waiting rooms best, skepticism lingers. The reality, as several frontline staff told me: “The work isn't going anywhere.”

Veterans who bank on the Department of Veterans Affairs for medical care are watching a new round of job cuts unfold with a mix of worry and exhaustion. This month, the VA is moving ahead with plans to eliminate up to 35,000 healthcare roles nationwide—a move that, on paper, mostly wipes out positions that have sat vacant, some for more than a year. But many inside the agency wonder where the relief will come from, as the demands on clinics remain stubbornly high."I can't remember the last time we weren't shorthanded," says Sharda Fornnarino, a registered nurse who’s witnessed the slow drip of staff departures across Colorado. She’s been a voice for her colleagues in the local union, but even so, the message from management feels detached from the on-the-ground reality. “We get told that empty jobs don’t need replacing,” she says, “but the patients don’t disappear just because no one was hired.”According to Pete Kasperowicz, a spokesperson for the VA, most of these positions were created amid the turbulence of the pandemic. “The vast majority of these positions have not been filled for more than a year, underscoring how they are no longer needed,” he explained last week. It’s a line repeated across agency memos: no layoffs, no impact on patient care; just a sensible clearing out of old listings.But that rationale hasn’t offered much comfort in places like the sprawling VA system in San Diego. Workers there—many already stretched thin from last year’s waves of buyouts and retirements—learned that 322 open posts will vanish, along with any hope for backup. "The idea that relief isn't coming is really, really disappointing," one staff member said, asking not to be named. In the mental health department alone, nearly half of their open slots are getting struck. The kicker: in San Diego, veterans wait as long as 90 days for mental health appointments, sometimes longer.Staffing headaches at the VA aren’t new, but the circumstances are getting more tangled. In just the last year, the VA’s applicant pool shrank by more than half. Part of the puzzle is the surprising uptick in demand spurred by the PACT Act—legislation expanding benefits for veterans exposed to toxic burn pits. As eligibility grew, so did enrollments. Yet keeping up has meant fighting the same workforce shortages dogging hospitals everywhere.An internal message circulated to regional bosses spells out the target: slim the entire VA health workforce by roughly 10 percent, dialing down to around 372,000 people. On the ground, some call that a blunt instrument, fearing it could flatten morale and pile more work onto an already weary team.In Phoenix, the numbers are no less stark—358 slots axed, affecting every department. “We’re already behind on basic appointments,” said one nurse based in the city, sounding resigned. The concern: when you chip away at open positions year after year, at some point, the skeleton crew paying the bills and seeing the patients runs out of bandwidth.The politics swirling around this are familiar. Secretary Douglas Collins, under pressure from Capitol Hill, had already scaled back ambitions for a deeper round of cuts. Congress intervened to protect critical units, barring the VA from slashing suicide prevention jobs or dipping below minimal staffing for processing claims. Still, the agency hopes a leaner management layer—less bureaucracy, fewer regional offices—might free up resources for frontline services, though union leaders call the process rushed and opaque.Thomas Dargon Jr., who speaks for the nurses’ union nationally, was blunt when he heard about the looming changes. “The VA has been chronically understaffed for years,” he said. If the trend keeps up, the agency may end up asking the same tired group of workers to stretch even further.For now, VA leadership insists that these job cuts—targeting roles left empty long before—should not touch the level of care veterans actually receive. Yet among those who know the waiting rooms best, skepticism lingers. The reality, as several frontline staff told me: “The work isn't going anywhere.”