Guido warns me about this post before I even write it. “Do you EVER want to get laid again?” she asks. “Do you know how long EVER is?”
In response, I say: nothing, Zero. Zilchophonic. I have read Paradise Lost, all 12 books, and damn it, I’ve learned something about eternity. Besides, well, read on, and you tell me….
Two days after disclosing her fight with cancer, Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schultz launched into advocacy Monday, championing legislation that calls for greater awareness of breast cancer among younger women.
”It is my hope that by sharing my story, we will pass the [bill] and further reduce the death rate of young women diagnosed with breast cancer,” said Wasserman Schultz, 42. “We have to ensure that every young woman can rely on more than just luck.’ ‘– Miami Hurled
Debbie, I’m with you. Let’s reduce the incidence of breast cancer to its minimum, and help ease the suffering of the unfortunately afflicted. Anything you can do to achieve this objective is to your credit, and I wish you every success.
Your story is intriguing. You discover your cancer and take appropriate, if radical but necessary steps to survive. As the story reveals, you schedule your surgery to ensure minimum interference with your professional activities, and keep your family affairs private. At the appropriate moment — this week — you share your experiences with the world to achieve maximum impact to address a genuine problem that you now commit to resolve.
So why am I uneasy with this?
As a member of Congress, your health care was beyond ideal, better than that of any of the rabble you represent who paid for it. Like ordinary people like me and my spouse, who have gone through breast cancer on our own time and dime.
How many times did you, as a member of Congress, attempt without success to contact your physicians, insurance company, hospital representatives, etc? As a member of Congress, with power and the best medical coverage your constituents could purchase for you with their our tax dollars, how many hours/days/weeks did you spend waiting for a call back, an appointment, a conversation with a knowledgeable professional, to discuss your case? Think your position of power had any effect on your care and treatment?
Did you ever wait for hours to speak to your surgeon, only to get a lame excuse about the delay in the return of lab reports which determined whether or not you would need chemo or additional life-threatening surgery? Did your husband need to physically intimidate the surgeon in his examining room before the sonofabitch would give you a straight answer about a life and death circumstance the way my spouse’s did while she looked on in horror and despair?
Do you imagine your position as a member of Congress has nothing to do with the way your capacity to handle your cancer influences your attitude, energy, confidence, and function as a mother, spouse, and professional?
Was this issue of any even minor significance to you before you discovered your own cancer? So despite your statement that “it’s not about me,” it is, in fact, only about you, and moving forward, it is likely to remain so, something to gain political points, perhaps?
Yes, I think maybe it has something to do with this. But that’s just me, a cretinous citizen of the United States with the minimal health insurance coverage I can afford, dealing with the physicians and hospitals on my plan as best I could. I’m glad I had that much. After all, not everybody can afford the coverage and care we buy for our elected officials, who go on to crusade for a cause they personally endured.
Best of luck, Debbie. I’m on your side, and happy for your recovery. Just maybe it will lead to something universally more worthwhile. Now that your eyes are open, let me know if I can help.