However, the health care industry in the USA might make a different decision.
He Deserves To Live
This is what I know today—my Uncle Jose is finally being treated right. As a human.
He’s not from here. He came from Zacatecas when he was young. He has no insurance. His failing kidneys didn’t seem to matter. Took five diabetic attacks before a doctor even glanced at him. It didn’t matter that he’s a dad or a father figure to me, his niece. No money—they overlook you No insurance—you might as well be invisible.
I remember the day before my uncle’s operation. They were going to move the tubes for his dialysis treatment into his arm. The left arm just like his mom had it. I could see the fear masked behind his eyes. He tried to keep it together but I could tell he was falling apart.
His eyes are now swallowed by dark around them. His once tanned skin is now pale and colorless. And although he laughs, I can hear the breaths of pain hidden between those moments of joy.
He woke. Weeks had passed. Now he has a longer chance of raising his kids, of seeing them grow up. My Uncle Jose deserves to live.
Dialysis. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. He’ll be okay. I hope.
As long as they see him still. As long as they view him as human. Actually as long as they can turn a profit. ---