Health Care in America and why I'm thankful for it
Friday night, after I had to do the hardest thing at work since I’ve gotten to Haiti (tell someone not to come back on Monday—not fire him, he was there for training and just didn’t make the cut) I got a Facebook message saying my grandpa (who has been fighting cancer for a while and has been off chemo since January) was admitted to Hospice in the hospital because he was barely eating anything. I tried to act normal, eat dinner, and help out at a tent city tap tap wound clinic, but my mind was elsewhere. I keep picturing the last time I was home and saw my grandpa. I keep seeing the last time I saw him, the last time we sat and had a conversation, and the last time I hugged him. I then woke up Saturday morning to a Facebook status from my dad that said my seven month old nephew had to go to the ER in the middle of the night because he couldn’t breathe. Holy cow, I wanted to be with my family right then and there. After breakfast I called my mom and found out my nephew was okay he had ...