Until January 1993—the same month Bill Clinton was inaugurated—“health care” was an abstract concept to me. “Health care” meant my wonderful pediatrician Dr. Hill, a red lollipop after every checkup, and the drama that ensued every time my brother was due for a shot (sometimes it took four heroic nurses to hold him down).
But that January, midway through my sophomore year of high school, I got up too quickly from my bed one afternoon and woke up I don’t know how many minutes later with a pile of books strewn across my body and my mother yelling for my dad to come. I had lost consciousness and careened into my bookshelf, the first sign that I’d been born with a congenital heart defect.
The next six months of my life were a story of great good luck. I was lucky because, just the year before, electrophysiologists had pioneered a relatively non-invasive procedure that allowed doctors to correct my condition, Wolff-Parkinson-White Syndrome, without slicing open my chest. I was lucky because I lived less than a mile away from Texas Children’s Hospital, one of a handful of institutions in the whole country that could perform this breakthrough procedure at the time.
But most of all I was lucky because my parents had good health insurance. Over the next six months, as I went in and out of the hospital for three procedures to correct the defect in my heart, I worried that the beta blockers I took would make me fall asleep in chemistry class (they did), and I worried that the wired ECG monitor to track tachycardiac episodes would invite invasive questions from strangers (they did), and I worried that I wouldn’t be allowed to go to Galveston for Spring Break (I could!).
But, while I heard my parents talk a lot about deductibles and I never failed to notice the huge envelopes from the hospital that arrived at the house what seemed like every day, I never worried that I would be denied access to the health care I needed to save my life.
No 15-year-old should, and neither should a 5-year-old, nor a 50-year-old.
That’s why I’m running for Congress, and why I’m fighting for single-payer health care. If you agree, please support our campaign with a donation today.
That fall, when President Bill and First Lady Hillary Clinton unveiled their plan to expand health-care access to more Americans, I paid more attention to the news than I would have the previous year. Thanks to advances in medical technology, brilliant doctors, and my parents’ insurance plan, I was able to start my junior year unencumbered by medicine or monitors. My heart condition became a footnote in my life, not -- as with far too many Americans -- the end of the story.
All Americans deserve this outcome, and that’s why I’m in this fight. If you agree that health care is a human right, will you support my campaign by donating today?
It’s an uphill battle to take, and I will face opposition from many quarters — people who are profiting from the status quo. But if you stick with me, know that I’ll never back down, and I’ll never stop fighting to get Americans the fair health care system they deserve.
Your friend in the fight,
Laura Moser
Saying she is for single payer, no equivocation, and being able to personalize it makes it a good mailing. The two paragraphs seeking contribution were each linked to her ActBlue page. Consider helping that candidacy.