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last march, my brother-in-law killed himself. he was a lifelong musician and singer-songwriter with no parallel. his impact on the people who knew him lasted. but he was sick for a year and although he went to get treatment and diagnosis, he was constantly turned away by doctors, nurses, ER rooms who didn't say but meant: he had no insurance. let me paint that for you in color by numbers: "i'm sick, i'm in pain, i think i'm dying." "well, i can help you but you have to pay first."

i've been complaining about this problem for years now, here in this blog and elsewhere. i say complaining, i really mean, i'm pissed as hell. i haven't talked about my own experiences here, but i have talked about the treatment of others i knew, including my brother-in-law.

turned out, after an autopsy, that my brother-in-law had advanced pancreatic cancer and must have been in pain beyond describing. my sister says he never rested for the last five or six months; he couldn't sleep from the pain.

that's not just policy talking. that's people that made those decisions. like, you know, you and me. some man, some woman, just turned around and walked away. i don't care if that was policy. or any other incredibly insufficient reason to murder people. not interested. makes you wonder, hunh.

Wind Chases the Sun film