A coworker once told me that a Republican is a former Democrat who just got his first paycheck. Apparently, as soon as we see the deductions from our paycheck, we will fight to the death to keep every dime for ourselves because we are all that selfish. He further claimed that a conservative is a former liberal who became a parent. WTF? Because once we bring life into this world we suddenly stop caring about planet earth? Because we suddenly embrace war? Because as parents we are no longer concerned about people, but about corporate profits?
He was wrong. Motherhood made me an unabashed flaming liberal. I have no use for the Republican fear tactics, duplicity or lies. I loathe their politics of exclusion and prejudice. I want full acceptance for my kids – for everyone's kids. I want a government that works for us. I want healthcare for all.
I wrote about my Fear and Loathing before summer began. The intervening months have not quelled my anxiety because the Republicans got crazier – and my life got scarier.
At dinner on my daughter's 11th birthday, her nose began to bleed. She said it had been happening all week for no apparent reason. Then she mentioned that there was a flash of light across her left eye whenever she opened her eyes. I watched and waited.
The nosebleeds subsided, but the flash of light progressed to pain around the eye and a sharp pain through the eye. We saw the pediatrician. We were sent to an ophthalmologist. Neither could explain her pain. Over the next ten weeks, the symptoms began to multiply. After having her eyes dilated, her vision in her left eye never returned to normal. The occasional headache was now every night. The minor headache was now painful. Her left ear began to hurt. The pediatrician thought it could be the beginning of migraines which often start around this age. She referred us to the Headache Clinic at Children’s Hospital.
We met with the neurologist on a Friday afternoon. We were told that this may be from a bug bite or, well, we'll know more after we do an MRI. I mentioned migraines; she said we’d consider that if... well, let’s just wait... As soon as I got home that evening, I checked out Children's website and read about headaches. It actually says, bold print and all "you should worry about your child's headache if:" and then lists four symptoms. Kgirl1 has three. It also says that for the majority of headaches doctors typically will not do imaging tests of the brain. And there were those words that had been rolling around in my head all summer long: brain tumor. She was being sent for an MRI because they think "a brain tumor is a realistic possibility."
I follow clinical advice: I worry.
Last summer, the only thing I would be worried about is my daughter. But I’ve learned a lot about the insurance industry recently, so now I also worry about how we will fare if Kgirl1 is sick. What will they cover? What will they deny?
What I learned this summer is that we are indeed fortunate. My husband’s insurance plan is through the behemoth company that owns the small company where he works. He just loved working at a small company and was somewhat bitter when it was acquired, but now I am extremely grateful it was. We will not be dropped from our plan nor will my husband be fired if we have a major illness. Until this summer, I did not know that insurance companies could drop someone when they became seriously ill. I did not know insurance companies could charge a million dollar premium to a small business as soon as one employee was diagnosed with a serious illness – and the company would mostly likely fire that person or lose insurance for everyone. I learned that MrKgirl cannot start that business he has talked about for so long; he cannot take a job at a startup. He cannot lose his job.
This summer I learned that medical care is a rich man's game. I can take my daughter to the doctor just because I think she’s too skinny even though she eats more than anyone in the family. I can take my daughter to a headache clinic because they may offer better insight to living with migraines. I can okay any test the doctor wants to run just to rule out things because we can afford to pay the 30% the insurance company won’t cover. And we can discover that our youngest has cystic fibrosis. And we can discover that our eldest may have something far worse than migraines. My daughters are getting the care they need because we can afford to pursue an answer.
This summer I learned anger is easier than fear. Fear is debilitating. Fear consumes me in the stillness of the night.
I fear that the doctor's suspicions are correct. I fear that I will fall apart when my daughter needs me most. I fear that I will not have enough left of me for Kgirl2.
My husband travels internationally two weeks out of every month. I fear that I cannot do it all in his absence. I fear that he will lose his job if he stays home with us. I fear that we will lose our insurance.
I fear that my marriage will not survive because in stress and tragedy, I need comfort while he needs distance. I worry about the emotional wellbeing of the family; he worries about our financial wellbeing. We have to figure out how to do our part without feeling as though we've failed each other.
Right now, all of this is just my fear run amok while I wait for the doctor's phone call. One by one, explanations of my daughter's pains have slipped away. She has not torn her retina; she does not have a bug-related disease; she does not have thyroid problems or anemia or blood sugar disorders. She had her MRI yesterday, but we will not know the results until tomorrow. I am afraid for her. I take solace in the fact that only 2,300 kids in the US will be diagnosed with a brain tumor in a given year, so the odds are in our favor. I cry when I learn that only 60% of them will survive.
I have tried to face my fears so that, should I get the call I am so dreading, I will be prepared. But I know I am not. Despite everything I've tried to plan for or think about, I know that deep down I am convinced my daughter is fine. I watch her play golf or ride a horse or smile and I just know that she's fine. I don't know how I face tomorrow if she's not. I know that families are living this nightmare right now, everyday. I am in awe of their strength and courage because I fear that I do not possess it.
Anger is easier than fear. Anger motivates me so I try to bury my fear and concentrate on my anger.
I am angry with those Senators who suggest that healthcare is a privilege, not a right. Who suggest I am more deserving of this privilege because my husband has a job at a large company. And my family would somehow be undeserving of decent healthcare if he took a job at a smaller company or if he lost his job.
I am angry with every person who believes they have the right to Medicare, but claim that others have no such right. I am angry that my daughters will not be able to get health insurance as adults because of pre-existing conditions, yet Republicans and Blue Dogs are concerned with insurance companies’ ability to make a profit.
I loathe every congressperson, Republican or Democrat, who voted for a completely unnecessary war without once asking how we would pay for it, yet refuse to consider a public option unless it is budget neutral. That feel healthcare reform should wait until after the recession, even as thousands lose their jobs, lose their insurance, lose their lives while they wait for Congress to act...
I am angry that whenever a reporter has the courage to ask "what will you do for the 40-50 million without insurance?" the answer is that "the number is bogus because 10 million are illegal immigrants and another 10-20 million are people who choose not to have insurance." I am angry that that non-answer is enough for "journalists" to move on to the next question. I am enraged that the question "Which is more important to you: the health of your constituents or the health of the insurance industry?" is never asked.
I am furious that the Republicans and insurance companies have manipulated the stupid and gullible to work against their own best interests. They are masterful at whipping up fear, providing a scapegoat, then unleashing the anger. Instead of an honest discussion, we have hysterical mobs descending upon town hall meetings, trying to silence those of us who want a better, fairer system for all. They do not want to pay more taxes; they do not want government involvement; they are against anything small d and capital D democratic. They do not want to admit that it could happen to them.
I fear that those who are most in need of healthcare reform are too exhausted or shattered to take on this fight. So I will fight. I fight for my kids; I fight for those parents who are sitting next to their child's hospital bed, praying for one more day.
Today my daughter starts Middle School. This summer she met a boy who has a wicked crush on her. She loves golf with a passion and shoots in the low 80’s from the women’s tees. She hates to read. She wants to learn to snowboard now that she's (mostly) overcome her fear of the chairlift. She's already picked out the car she wants to drive when she's old enough. She is certain that she'll never marry, but she'll probably have kids. She's going to play on the LPGA tour. Or open a restaurant. Probably both... She has absolutely no idea why her doctor ordered an MRI and I have no idea what to say. I hope I never have to explain. Maybe I am naively optimistic, but I believe my daughter will have the chance to realize her dreams. I grieve for all the parents that cannot say the same thing.
A parent should never lose a child, this I know. That there is even a single death because someone couldn't afford treatment is this country's shame. That any representative of "we, the people" is placing their loyalties with the insurance industry instead of their constituents is a disgrace.
UPDATE: The doctor called and there is no sign of a brain tumor. They think it could be fluid on the brain and they want to do a spinal tap on Thursday.
Thank you one and all for all your prayers and well-wishes. I love this community!!!!!!!