Entitlements

I hate the first day of winter. That was the day my older sister could no longer stay at home and had to go back to the hospital. She had done so much for me—helped me get through school. I had debt to be sure, plenty of it, but without her help I couldn't have made it at all.

Really she was the smarter of the two of us, but she chose not to go to college because she knew how bad I wanted to go. She'd always treated me that way. God, how how I miss her. I miss her so bad when winter arrives.

She was never one to get sidetracked—always knew her goals and wouldn't let anything stop her. Until she got ill. She insisted on working up until the very end. And she sent me school money even though I begged her not to because I knew she didn't have it. But finally it was too much for her and she couldn't work anymore.

If she'd seen a doctor earlier she'd be alive today. But she held off for so long because she couldn't afford insurance that now it was too late to save her. She didn't like the idea of begging, but I insisted that she get Medicaid. I even helped her apply for it. I'm glad I did. It was one less thing for her to worry about in those final days. She was glad she didn't have to burden her husband with debt as well as a child to raise by himself.

They call them entitlements. But I consider them small mercies. But if people like my sister were paid better, and could afford insurance, these small mercies wouldn't be as necessary. Or, I guess if we had universal healthcare, then low pay would be more tolerable. But they say that's socialism, even though a lot of developed countries have it. I recently heard a politician say that people should save more for emergencies like health crises. Really I don't see how.