How taking care of my father after his cancer diagnosis inspired me to embrace the ideas and policies of the Left.
It’s been three years this week since I last celebrated my father’s birthday while he was alive. I remember the day vividly. Brothers, sisters, in-laws, grandchildren and even childhood friends were scattered about under one roof. There was a palpable undercurrent of grief; I think in our hearts, we knew this would be his last birthday. Nonetheless, we embraced levity, ate, drank and filled every moment with each other and my father with an urgent sense of love and immediacy. I saw my parents reach for each other with profound tenderness, babies embraced and laughter that momentarily quieted the perpetual tumult characteristic of our lives.
But there was something missing that day. There weren’t hushed discussions about paying for treatment, arranging for care, scraping money together for prescriptions. We weren’t trying to figure out how to borrow from Peter to pay Paul. We were immensely stressed and overwhelmed with my father’s health, his ability to eat and enjoy the food we cooked, his comfort, his fatigue. But the specter of the cruel and inhumane “healthcare” system with which we all live in this country every single day did not show up to my father’s birthday. In fact, it was largely absent from the grueling, heartbreaking, harrowing experience of taking care of him as he was diagnosed with and ultimately died from cancer. We didn’t have to spend hours on the phone attempting to navigate a deliberately convoluted system of coverage, deductibles, and co-pays. We didn’t have an exponentially growing pile of unpaid hospital bills staring us in the face, and admittedly, this was its own blessing and burden.
Instead of being forced to deal with collection agencies, putting our house up for sale and maxing out credit cards, my family and I were afforded the luxury of just simply being with my father in the last years of his life. Instead of feeling pressured to work every possible shift to make every last dollar to pay for a single prescription pill, I was able to walk into nearly every doctors appointment and every radiation treatment alongside my mother and father. And in so doing, I was forced to confront my own complicated feelings about the man who was slipping rapidly away from me. I examined my fear, anger, long-held resentments. I researched the end of life process, read poems about grief, and found comfort in the arms of my friends. I embraced the fluidity of my sorrow and found my way to forgiveness.
In short, my family and I were able to “get through” the process of my father’s diagnosis, treatments, and ultimately the end of his life, with our own lives relatively intact. How? First, my siblings and I had the privilege of job security, thanks in no small part to the fact that we just happened to be born straight and white. While I didn’t have Paid Family Leave as part of my employment (this should be mandatory by the way), I was fortunate enough to have a job that allowed for last minute changes necessitated by urgent, unpredictable trips to the hospital and lunch breaks spent crying in a bathroom stall; not once was I concerned about being fired. There was a tacit agreement between me and my employer that so long as I showed up to one degree or another, my position was relatively secure. How many Black, Hispanic, Asian, LGBTQ workers can say the same when caring for a dying family member?
Second, and most importantly, we were able to maintain relative financial security because of Medicare and Medi-Cal, two tax-payer funded programs. I have YOU to thank for keeping a roof over my head and covering the cost of the hospital bed my father died in. Medicare is a federal program that primarily covers people over 65, no matter their income level. But it doesn’t cover everything. That’s where Medi-Cal comes in, as it serves low-income people of every age in California. You see, my parents did not have investments, savings or a retirement fund. And this has absolutely nothing to do with their worth and dignity as human beings, let alone what they’ve contributed to society, not just in terms of their own tax dollars, but in terms of the children they raised - or (if we want to be especially mercenary about it) the “consumers” they raised. If not for Medicare and Medi-Cal, these two safety nets, these “radical, left-wing, communist” policies, my family and I would surely be bankrupt right now.
I don’t know about you, but I fervently hope that every friend, loved one, and especially stranger I have the privilege of meeting is secure, safe and stable within their own lives. Why? Because their security directly impacts my own. If the person bagging my groceries has adequate, comprehensive health care that enables them to not just greet me, but go out into the world and be a contributing member of a democratic society, I am better off because of it. To say it more plainly, I was able to show up to work, spend money on goods and services, feed, clothe myself and pay my rent - and thereby pump money back into the economy - DESPITE THE FACT THAT MY FATHER WAS DYING OF CANCER. This may not seem that profound to some of you, but as a member of the 99%, I assure you, it’s a big deal. Maintaining some sense of normalcy in the face of cancer and the profound pain it causes is a feat. Coming out of it with a roof still over your head, and a car to drive to work is a miracle. The reason this is NOT the norm for EVERYONE is due to destructive policies that tie health insurance to our jobs while benefiting corporations that put profits over people.
As we approach November 3rd, I urge you to think critically about what’s at stake not just for you, but for me, acquaintances twice-removed, and especially the stranger that bags your groceries. This administration is actively hollowing out Medicare by senselessly slashing payroll taxes. Unhappy that 1.45% of your payroll taxes go towards Medicare? Wish you didn’t have to pay for the healthcare of people like my father who are a “drain on society”? I have three words for you: TAX THE BILLIONAIRES. If that’s too much of a stretch, than at least vote for the administration that isn’t going to slash the Affordable Care Act, which as of writing this, has played a significant role in “reducing racial disparities in health insurance coverage” by “having created several new options for health insurance unrelated to employment” even as Covid-19 has decimated millions of jobs. In other words, thanks to the ACA, thousands of people have applied and been approved for health insurance despite not having a job. All this being said, the ACA doesn’t go far enough, and Medicare as it stands today, is still far too limited. Now, more than ever, we need #MedicareForAll. Biden wasn’t my first choice, but with him in office, we stand a chance to at least preserve the ACA while also pushing him, his administration and the Democratic Establishment towards #MedicareForAll. The alternative is quite literally deadly.
You could say that caring for my father as he died from cancer “radicalized” me. Really, it just crystallized an already deeply held belief. Every moment spent with my father, witnessing his pain, holding my family’s grief, while NOT being crushed under hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical debt, revealed to me what it would mean if we could all live and ultimately one day die in a truly just, equitable society. A society in which, as the DSA proposes, “a single standard of quality healthcare free at the point of service without financial barriers” is the norm so that patients can “get the care they need, not just the care they can afford.” I want this world not just for those who think like me; I want this for EVERYONE regardless of political affiliation, income tax bracket or citizenship status. Every Amazon employee should have the same healthcare plan as Jeff Bezos. The undocumented woman who picks the fruit that’s sold to your local grocery store should have the same healthcare plan as the CEO of the company that owns that grocery store. It’s as simple as that.
If you’re having trouble wrapping your head around what this looks like, head on over here to read about Everybody In, Nobody Out. While you’re at it, make sure you’re registered to vote, and do so early, and get familiar with the policies endorsed by your down ballot candidates. It’s going to take every last one of us to not just right this ship, but set a new course for a future built on social solidarity, racial and economic equity, and environmental sustainability. I’m in. I hope you are, too.