So there’s this conversation going on at Post Politics.
I know all these people are very concerned about how folks like me are treated, because it always comes up when they’re arguing health care. And it keeps hitting a button with me.
Frank Cagle says
How do we prevent private insurance from dumping all the chronically ill onto the public plan?
Joe Kirkpatrick (Republican Gubernatorial Candidate) says
The only caveat to this plan would be to allow the uninsurable, ONLY those willing to do something for themselves
CAN WE PLEASE STOP TALKING ABOUT “DUMPING” THE CHRONICALLY ILL?!? Can we please stop talking as though our illnesses make us shiftless blobs of lazy sucking on the public teat?
Mr. Kirkpatrick, I am not unwilling to do something for myself. I am not sitting back and saying “eh well. This is fun, this crippling handicap. I think I’ll just enjoy it.” Not a day goes by that I don’t mourn the life I’ve lost. The life that was taken from me by the engines of fate.
Mr. Cagle, I’m not a piece of garbage. I’m a highly-intelligent, hard-working, well-read and well-educated woman who through no fault of her own finds herself unable to use many of her body parts due to AutoImmune Disease.
While I can no longer hold a 9-5 job I still contribute to society in many ways, not the least of which involves making my voice heard through my writing. While I no longer earn money, I continue to provide love and support to many people who do. I continue to engage in many local communities. I don’t receive disability from any government at this time, being blessed in other ways. (God closed the door on my working, but opened windows elsewhere.)
Most importantly, I provide data to science, which allows them to study my condition, to learn to treat it more effectively and hopefully to prevent or better control it in future generations.
I am not garbage. The fact that I get up from my bed every day, struggle down two flights of stairs and type with fingers which feel filled with shards of glass–with a stick between my teeth when my fingers don’t work at all–in order to participate in society should bear witness to my willingness, my tenacity and the fact that I will fight til my last breath to use whatever tools I have left to make a difference in this world.