It was two years ago today that I got the news Mike’s cancer was back. The doctors had hoped to give him another year, but the cancer didn’t respond to chemo and he died six weeks later, on April 1.
I got the call on my way into work, and Rob and I dropped everything and went out to Cary, about a four-hour drive, to be with him. He was tired and stunned, and for several days, he didn’t laugh or crack jokes.
But even that came back to him after a week, and he was playing the “I’m dying” card. We all went along with Mike being Mike, except for chemo days, which reminded us how short his time would be. After two treatments — four weeks after we discovered the cancer was back — we found the chemo wasn’t working and I brought him home to be with me.
I wanted every moment with him. I wanted him to live as long as we could nurture him along. I knew he was dying, but each day he survived, I thanked God for one more day with him.
My passion to fix this broken health care system is renewed every time I look at his picture. I can almost hear him urging me on.
And then to almost lose my husband to the system last week … I’m even more determined.
I’m not watching the health care summit today because it’ just a dog-and-pony show. What we need is for the Senate to pass the public option through reconciliation. Republicans used it 22 times during the Bush administration, including for two tax cuts and Medicate Part D, which will cost $1 trillion by the end of its first decade.
The Congressional Budget Office has said the public option will cut costs over the next 10 years. It will pay for itself. C’mon, kids, let’s put on this show!
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