I've seen far too many sick kids in my lifetime; I've visited far too many hospital rooms. Working at a nonprofit that granted wishes meant that my job was to bring a smile to the face of a child who had overcome or was currently facing a life-threatening illness. While we were there to bring joy, I knew there were other moments we didn't see that were less joyful.
With the latest GOP push to change access to healthcare, I keep thinking of the hundreds of children and families I've met during a health crisis. Some parents had traveled from other countries to seek out the best care for their child in the US; some children were born here to undocumented parents. Some parents served as chauffeur to daily hospital appointments while others relied on hospital-provided transportation or housing near the hospital. I met single parents, step-parents, grandparents, and foster parents. I was always surprised to find out some of our parents were younger than me--no matter how much older I got!
Every parent had one thing in common, though: hope. Whether their child had recently been diagnosed or had been undergoing treatment for years, each parent I met had the belief that their child would get better. They were
surrounded by a team of medical professionals--doctors, nurses,
therapists, social workers, and more--who helped them keep believing. That hope fueled every attempt to get the best care.
Healthcare is more than insurance; it is more than a capitalistic market exchange. Healthcare is a system of medical professionals, as overworked and weary as they may be. Healthcare is the nurse who shows you how to change your child's feeding tube or check her oxygen levels.
Healthcare is what my aunt deserved--but did not receive--when she saw a spot on her lungs, years before she was officially diagnosed with the cancer that would kill her at age 45. It's the belief that a child with poor parents should not suffer in a waiting room and that people should not die in our streets from treatable conditions (although many homeless individuals still do). Healthcare is the system that has saved me after a life-threatening car accident without bankrupting my mother. It's the safety net that provided mental healthcare for me and for those I love despite preexisting conditions or status as an abuse survivor.
Healthcare is what my aunt deserved--but did not receive--when she saw a spot on her lungs, years before she was officially diagnosed with the cancer that would kill her at age 45. It's the belief that a child with poor parents should not suffer in a waiting room and that people should not die in our streets from treatable conditions (although many homeless individuals still do). Healthcare is the system that has saved me after a life-threatening car accident without bankrupting my mother. It's the safety net that provided mental healthcare for me and for those I love despite preexisting conditions or status as an abuse survivor.
Healthcare is a basic human right; it's hope.
