PREAPPROVED FOR DENIAL

PREAPPROVED FOR DENIAL: THEY WILL UNDERSTAND, AT LAST BY MATTHEW LUCAS BECKETT “I've been labeled as subhuman for fifteen years simply because I had a traumatic brain injury when I was ten years old from that skiing accident,” I told Paul one night. “All I want is to be treated like a Human Being by Health Insurance Companies. I haven't had a problem related to my brain injury that required any kind of medical expense in more than thirteen years, so it is really silly for them to consider me high risk anyway, but be that as it may, The Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act specifically bans the exclusion, while none of your side's proposals even acknowledge that the exclusion exists. So I ask you once more, why does your side refuse to put forward any proposed alternatives that addresses our needs or even acknowledges that we exist?” “Because,” said Paul. “The only solution that would work for you is the one that has been done, and we can not acknowledge that because that would mean admitting that we are wrong. Besides, we are not wrong. You are all subhuman and you should all just be put to death or kill yourselves.” I couldn't quite believe I was hearing this from a member of my own family. Someone who was supposed to love me. But then, Paul has always put politics above family and above people. “Well, just keep calm and don't make trouble,” my mother told me later that day. “We've got a family dinner on Sunday, and we don't want any friction.” Returning to my bedroom, I closed and locked the door and then pounded away on an enemy on my Video Game. 'No friction!,' I thought. “I've been labeled subhuman for ten years, since turning twenty-five, because of a skiing accident when I was ten years old. Now there's a law in place that restores my very humanity, and all half the country can talk about is undoing it and replacing it with something that does absolutely nothing for those of us left behind by Profits Over People, and I'm supposed to keep calm and not make trouble.' I stabbed at the enemy with a particularly vicious thrust, causing it to scream and explode. 'If only taking care of real opponents was that simple,' I thought. At Sunday dinner, Uncle Edger started laying into 'Obamacare' as they call it, and I at last could take it no longer. I stood and cleared my throat very loudly. All faces turned in my direction. My parents shook their heads imploringly, but there comes a time when one simply has to make a stand. “You know, Uncle Ed,” I began. “At least President Obama DOES care about those of us with Preexisting Health Conditions. The real question is: Why do you not care? With that skiing accident when I was ten years old, I suffered a traumatic brain injury. Because of that, since getting to old to be covered through Dad and Mom, I have been unable to retain Private Health Insurance, and have had a Risk Pool that state law requires always be twice the rate if comparable,private coverage and even at that rate the lowest deductible I can get is $1,000, as my only option. The Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act specifically bans the preexisting conditions exclusion, while nothing from your side of the isle even acknowledges that we exist. According to your son, Paul, we are all just subhuman and we should all just kill ourselves or be put to death. So, is that your position as well? And if not, I repeat, at least President Obama DOES CARE about those of us for whom Profits Over People as a Health Care System did not work. Why don't you?” “Because you are subhuman and you should be dead, by your own hand or another's does not matter,” he replied after a moment. Both of my parents leaped to their feet, along with several others. “You can't talk to our daughter like that, Ed!” they both said in unison. “You're supposed to care about your niece.” Ed opened his mouth to reply, but then the whole table erupted in shouting, pronouncements and accusations, and his words were lost in the confusion. I looked around the table with mixed emotions. I was sorry I had had to spoil a family lunch like this, but on the other hand at least my parents and others who claim to love me were at last showing it by fighting for what is right in this field, and knowing that I am no longer alone is a good feeling. At least at last they seem to truly understand.