This makes my blood boil:
If we can help little #CharlieGard, as per our friends in the U.K. and the Pope, we would be delighted to do so.
— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) July 3, 2017
Imagine the following conversations:
“My husband is dying of Black Lung disease and we can’t afford the treatments anymore!” “If we can help … we would be delighted to do so.”
“Our daughter was injured while playing, and we have to sell our house to get the treatment that will make her walk again!” “If we can help … we would be delighted to do so.”
“I have this sore that I’m very worried is cancer, but I can’t afford the deductibles for a disease like that, so I can’t even get it checked out!” “If we can help … we would be delighted to do so.”
“My son was born with a heart defect that can be fixed, but we’re too poor to have insurance!” “If we can help … we would be delighted to do so.”
“My mother has Alzheimer’s and we have to care for her at home, it’s bankrupting us because I had to quit my job to do it!” “If we can help … we would be delighted to do so.”
“My child is born with a rare defect that is destroying his body and brain and we need help!” “If we can help … we would be delighted to do so.”
Compassion isn’t caring only for the one case in front of you. It’s trying to fix the system so everyone like that is cared for. Why is it so easy to look at one case and be sympathetic, and yet harden your heart to the millions of others like it? Why should you be delighted to help one suffering family, but propose throwing 32 million people off their literal lifeline? (Yes, he proposed 32 million, even more than the 22 million in the Senate plan.)
We can afford universal care. I’d be delighted to do so. Wouldn’t you?