A Waste of a Life

As an almost 45-year, Type-1 diabetic, healthcare has been my lifeline. The only semblance of a pancreas I’ve had since I was 16 is a squatter spot in my body paid for by Blue Cross/Blue Shield. Each year, I spend close to 2K keeping myself alive. If I didn’t have health insurance, it would be more like 20K, and I would not have the money to live — and live. I am a diabetic who can afford a house, a car, and the occasional vacation. It’s a good life.

As much as I hate my chronic disease, I am so thankful for the financial assistance from my employer/healthcare provider, as well as the research that has made managing my blood sugars SO MUCH EASIER. I now wear a VERY SMALL insulin pump that operates from an app on my smartphone. It’s genius. I am thankful for the monies being spent seeking a cure for diabetes (I would not wish it on anyone) and developing tools to make managing this disease um … manageable.

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I also recently had cervical cancer. Throughout my “cancer journey” (which was really a cancer “jaunt”), I came to very much appreciate the care and expertise of my oncologist (Dr. Nakayama), the wonderful medical team who got me through a hysterectomy at West Penn Hospital, and the group of cool young women who comprised my radiation crew. Their care and antics made me laugh as the tube went round and round my body every day for 6 weeks.

I am lucky.

I would not be alive today if it weren’t for our healthcare system. Do I wish everyone had access? YES. Would I pay more in taxes to know that EVERYONE had access to healthcare? YES. Does that make me a socialist? Call it what you will.

I feel the same about education and food — for EVERYONE.

Needless to say, watching our current admin slash all our country’s safety nets under the guise of cutting waste is abhorrent — and scary. Especially since the cuts are meant to feed the military and the rich (guns and money, Warren). 

It’s kind of like Robin Hood gone bad.

It’s kind of like someone saying, “Your life is a waste.”

• • My poetry is useless.
  • The fact that I cofounded HEArt — Human Equity through Art — the premiere journal of art and literature devoted to fighting injustice and promoting equity — meaningless.
  • My professional contributions to thriving Pittsburgh businesses like the Squirrel Hill Cafe, Giant Eagle, and Libsyn are worthless.
  • I clearly serve no emotional value to my friends or family.
  • My efforts to prevent suicide — meh.
  • My brilliant son is inconsequential.
  • My support for the LGBTQAI community and wildlife rescue, well, that counts against me. What was I thinking?