Everyone is the Same

As I sit here finishing off my breakfast with a cup of strawberry yogurt in my hospital bed, I know fortunate I am to have the health coverage that I do. At the same time I also recognize the blatant unfairness of a system that links healthcare benefits to employment status.

I have heard all of the arguments down through the years about how this system is allegedly “fair”, but those arguments have never convinced me. For many people, they have jobs, but healthcare benefits either aren’t provided, or those benefits are small and insignificant. For those who work independently, or are out of work the situation is critical because costs are driven by corporate greed and not by medical necessity. If there were valid medical reasons for the costs, other countries would have the same obscenely expensive health care that we do.

Most of the developed world sees healthcare as a right, but we still treat it as a privilege. This is morally wrong. No one should lack access to healthcare because of their employment or financial situations. We need to rid ourselves of the corrupt way of providing healthcare to the fortunate few and focus on providing this same level of excitement healthcare to everyone.

Just What I Needed

As I laid in my hospital bed yesterday and watched my phone battery slowly drain away to nothing I realized how dependent I’ve become on my iPhone to compose blog entries on the go. When Hal visited me late in the afternoon, he brought my charger and life became digital once again.

Hal also brought something else that I treasure just as much, and that is my own personal journal. I still love to actually write even though the things I write in my journal will most likely never be transcribed to my blog.

My Journal

Once Hal had to leave, I grabbed my journal and started writing. I wrote about how it felt to fear that I wasn’t going to live to see another day. I wrote about what made the fight to stay here worth fighting for. I wrote about ways I can try to beat this situation. Pages filled rapidly. The nurses said that they had never seen someone write in a journal before. They all had seen people pecking away on their phones like I’m doing now. One of them asked me what I wrote about, and I told her “Life” and all the struggles and glories that we each go through every day. I explained that what I was writing was intensely personal, and she said she wished she did something like that for herself.

She told me that she hesitated about buying a journal like mine. I laughed and told her that my journey of journaling started with school notebooks that were what she bought for her children each school year. I don’t know if there was a lightbulb in her head moment, but I can hope.

The writing experience and encounters like the one with that nurse, the true everyday life stories about Hal and The Stooges, all make my journal Just What I Needed.