The fate of a stimulus-funded clinic hinges on the nation's health care future.

UNHS had received nearly $1 million of stimulus funding, and Bufwack had to find out online. One morning she awoke to headlines that two local health clinics had received extra stimulus grants. (Every health clinic in the country got some money, but only some got extra to build new facilities.) She got angry. Then she read on. UNHS was one of the health clinics getting the funds. She got confused. She certainly wasn't going to complain, but she hadn't asked for any stimulus money, so why was UNHS on the list?

She spent all day trying to figure it out. The other health clinic that got a grant didn't know why, either. She called her local congressman's office, but it didn't know, either. A half-hour later, it called back and said it could tell her how much she was receiving but not why she was getting it. Finally, late in the night, somebody from the government called and explained. It was for a forgotten project; it was for Dickerson.

Now, five months later, the facility is being born into a far different world than 2007's. The only public hospital in town had to reduce its budget by 10 percent—a cut that trickles down to the health clinics, which now have to provide more services to make up for the hospital's reduced care. Perhaps more importantly, insurance plans are withering. Before the economic downturn, 16 percent of Nashville was uninsured. Now, thanks to 15,000 layoffs in the city, Bufwack estimates it's more like 25 percent. When people lose their jobs, they lose their insurance. And when people lose insurance, people need health clinics.

Dickerson is still two and a half months away from opening. For now it's barren—white walls, flickering fluorescent lights, window shades crookedly drawn low. It resides inside an old hardware store, the sign of which now co-mingles with Dickerson's. Amusingly, "Hardware | Plumbing | Supplies" is still relevant to the site's new purpose.