It’s a new bill (this Graham-Cassidy repeal bill), but the same, old story.
Curb healthcare to the poorest, the sickest, the oldest, the neediest, the youngest, and the disabled to cut costs. But without healthcare, without Medicaid, not only will costs soar, most importantly, real people will suffer. I think of my own family–without private duty nursing provided by Medicaid, especially those overnights–we’ll surely be in the emergency room with our medically fragile child far more often. If Medicaid is removed and we’re forced to rely on our private insurance, even if we run through our savings, we’ll still seek healthcare for our daughter, and we’ll continue to struggle to care for her at home (which is why Medicaid exists), because that’s what families do.
Simply put, the welfare of our nation is hardly improved by an assault on the most vulnerable. And if this is the American way, our country will soon be defined not by its dreams and its opportunities, but by its exclusion of those in need.
Yesterday, my daughter and I struggled to get around in a crowded place–I had to get out to push shopping carts out of the handicap parking space (good thing I could even do so) and I struggled to push her wheelchair through a sea of tight twists and turns. Few people moved their chairs, and as we endured looks of disgust, glances of pity, and the fundamental unwelcome of barriers to entry, movement, and accommodation, my eyes filled with tears. As I sat down next to Lucia, I took her face in my hands and kissed her. I whispered in her ear, “They don’t know how special you are, but I do, and I’m so glad.”
As I wrote about recently, no matter how hard they try, no politician nor party nor hospital nor inhospitality can ever take away our family’s joy. But as I look around the already trying, precarious nature of Lucia’s fragile life, I sure wonder why they try so hard–why they target families for whom society is already so unkind, for whom another year of life is hardly certain, families who know all too well pain and fear and heartache and who now face even more fear and uncertainty–financial, medical, and even physical.
You, politicians, cannot take our joy, but you are playing hard and fast with our very lives. As you go to vote this week, may we as the people continue to remind you that your task is actually to protect the weak, guard the sick, provide for the poor, rather than trade them for your own political gain. You are not doing right by my daughter and my family and something much more basic than our joy–her human dignity–is what’s at stake.
What will you do to make this world more inclusive? To give my daughter more opportunities and grant our family more dreams? Or will you continue to deny her the basic healthcare she needs to live her life? Will you not even give her that human dignity?
Take your cue from families like ours. With everything we’ve been through, we never give up on one another. Don’t you dare give up on us.