My Brother and Me
It still amazes me that Jimmy Kimmel’s impassioned plea, the story of his son’s neonatal problems, didn’t move the needle enough to retain the Affordable Care Act. It amazes me that anyone could have listened to it and come away thinking, “Jimmy Kimmel sure is an entitled asshole”. It amazes me that despite numerous calls from constituents and with swing districts up for grabs in 2018 that enough representatives voted for a deeply unpopular bill they could not possibly have read in the 10 hours it was available. It even amazes me how brazenly these same representatives will lie through their teeth about the bill’s contents even though a CBO score will likely refute them. What really amazes me, however, is that the concept of universal healthcare in America is still a debate.
I was originally going to write about the complexities of the healthcare argument, but Kimmel’s monologue drove home how little discussion there really should have to be. One of the many issues I’ve faced in trying to convince people opposed to the idea is that they don’t believe they know anyone who would be affected by an ACA repeal. Now while I think this demonstrates an extreme lack of empathy, I also have had a hard time recognizing who in my life would be adversely affected by the Republican legislation. Then Jimmy spoke, and even though he was talking about his son, there was only one person I immediately thought of.
My brother Mitchell was born May 14, 1992. I was only 3 years old at the time and I had no idea anything was wrong about this date, but to be fair neither did my parents. Based on ultrasounds and prenatal tests they expected him to be born around this date, and the fact he had been kicking excessively the day before made it clear he was ready to come out. There was only one problem. Mitchell wasn’t ready — he was one month early, with severely underdeveloped lungs and had mysteriously lost 50% of his blood supply. Within two minutes my brother was taken from my parents to be placed in a medically induced coma and intubated. He needed to develop his lungs. He needed a blood transfusion. He needed expensive medication to prevent vocal cord damage. He remained in the NICU for a month before being taken home.
I remember visiting Mitchell in the hospital many times, not realizing that what was happening wasn’t normal. My parents did an exceptional job of reacting calmly to what had to be a nightmare for them — even if my brother was likely to survive he would probably deal with some complications over the years. There was a good chance he might develop asthma (he did), would have trouble eating and swallowing (he did), and a small chance he could contract HIV from the transfusion (he did not, thankfully). Even with the top-line health insurance we had it still cost $115,000 to keep Mitchell alive and bring him home safely. I shudder to think what a less fortunate family would have had to pay.
In all likelihood, my brother’s birth would count against him as a preexisting condition. Just like Jimmy Kimmel’s son (who needed a surgery Mitchell, thankfully, didn’t), he was born into a family with plenty of advantages. My parents could afford amazing healthcare that drove the exorbitant costs down to that still huge number. My dad even worked at the hospital Mitchell was born in; he knew the doctors, the nurses, had even worked with patients from the same NICU. But I know most families do not have the same privilege.
I know that Mitchell’s story isn’t unique. According the CDC, 9.8% of all births in the United States are preterm, which usually results in neonatal care of some kind. Even if everything goes well and the family can afford to keep their child alive, the story doesn’t end. Once that child is grown they have to find healthcare coverage of their own. The ACA ensured that they wouldn’t have to pay more than anyone else for the same care. The potential passing of AHCA puts all of that in jeopardy. 24 million people stand to lose their health coverage, if not more. That’s 7% of the entire US population. I promise you that, even if you don’t realize it, you have somebody in your life, someone you care about, who will be hurt by this abhorrent legislation.
One week from today Mitchell turns 25. He is a college graduate with a full-time job. I shouldn’t have to worry about his future, but I do. If AHCA passes, will his employer be able to include him on their healthcare benefits package? If so will he have to pay higher premiums because he kicked his way into existence to save his own life? The story my parents always tell me is that, when we finally brought Mitchell home from the hospital, I turned into the world’s most protective brother. When the neighbors came over to have a look I tried to stop them from getting too close. By then I knew what he had gone through and, even at 2 and three-quarters, I felt the instinct to protect my brother. It didn’t matter if they were strangers, friends, or even family. I was compelled to keep my new brother safe at all costs. Almost 25 years have gone by since then. My instincts haven’t changed one bit.
