I was going to write a screed here on the American health care system. On how we take care (or fail to take care) of our most vulnerable citizens, those who are unable, for one reason or another, to take care of themselves. On the 'compassion' that lets us write off our employees (and therefore remove their health care) the moment they become too ill to work, and force those who have recently become disabled to jump through an often-humiliating and always ridiculously difficult series of hoops in order to receive what should be a human right.
But you know what? As I think about it, the story I have to tell is really a story of 'it could have been worse'. At every single point, it really could have been, and for tens of thousands of Americans every year, it was. So maybe I'll just tell that story, instead, and let the screed sort of stand, mostly unspoken.
This is a story of a man named Jim (note: name has been changed to at least somewhat protect his privacy), who had an accident. Well, sort of an accident. Just remember: unless you happen to be independently wealthy, it probably could just as easily have been you. And unless you were pretty lucky, it could have been worse. Much worse.
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