"I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink . . . as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.”
Matthew 25.35a, 40b (RSV)
When GBD Corporation hired me 10 years ago, it was as part of a class of 15. We had 4 weeks training on GBD products then we put on headsets and started answering the phones. I was a smoker at the time, so was my classmate Ken. We were the ones outside the doors, the ones saying the things you couldn’t say inside. Ken helped our class to bond and kept us in touch, organizing group lunches at hiring anniversaries.
Shortly after our first anniversary, Ken suffered a stroke. He convalesced a few months and came back to work, apparently having recovered completely. He quit smoking, lost weight, and took a new job in customer relations. Occasionally he would bring customer machines for me to fix. He would always come up behind me and make himself known by briefly massaging my shoulders. He did that to everybody. As time progressed, years, it became apparent that Ken had lost much of his technical talent as a result of the stroke. He had been a well-paid programmer during the 1980s, but now was having difficulty with the basics.
GBD carried him for a couple of years, but in December 1998 he became one of 25 in the first group to be called into a room and given 30 days to find a new job or “take the package.” He lived in Carrboro and I occasionally saw him. He maintained a positive attitude. If anything, the stroke, which robbed him of so many skills, had increased his spiritual side.
One day, I saw something that I pretended not to see. I’m pretty sure it was Ken, but quickly looked away not wanting confirmation. A man, smiling broadly, had just retrieved something from a dumpster, obviously something of value. My esteemed colleague had been relegated to dumpster-diving to make ends meet.
Last February (2002), a co-worker of his from customer relations broke the news. Ken had been diagnosed with prostate cancer and the outlook was grim. In April, she told us that his doctor had said 6 months. That was not to be, he passed away on May 21, 2002.
Last night, after a frenetic day at GBD, I made a rare stop at the Armadillo on the way home from work. Usually I come home and go out later. A woman I had known as “Jerry’s Friend” stopped in, sat down right beside me, and said, “Hello, Paul, how are you tonight?’ She was uncannily familiar for someone I thought I had only met a couple of times. Then she said, “You used to work with my husband Ken.” My jaw dropped. I had noticed the similarity, but never made the connection.
She told me Ken had really suffered. He had put off medical care until it was unavoidable and by then it was too late. The story was too familiar. The false economy of prudence when unaffordable medical care is truly the only option, I’ve seen it before. If you are struggling to provide food for the table and can’t afford medical insurance, hoping that “this too shall pass” is seductive – especially if you value old-fashioned self-reliance. Cancer does not care about that. Immediate, drastic, and expensive treatment is the only way to stop it and even that doesn’t always succeed.
There are rare moments in life when you have the feeling “this was meant to happen.” I feel that way about my chance encounter with Judy last evening. Ken and I were the first to “hit the phones” 10 years ago and it was this week that the last vestiges of the services we initiated were purged from the site. At one time, there were over 1,000 people doing tech support there, now there are none. GBD is not without a heart. I have seen many like Ken who were “carried” for years until charity could no longer be justified. I respect that, especially in the context of what has become a cutthroat business.
It has become chic to describe those whose genuine needs exceed their means as “lucky duckies.” Yes, I am making a political statement here, but I’ll be gentle. Ken’s life might have been saved had it not been for his fierce independent nature, but people should not be reduced to what is too universally regarded as “begging” for basic health care. While drug companies and HMOs bemoan rising costs, more than a few decent human beings have died from neglect inspired by noble aspirations. Probably more each month than died on 9/11. The war on attitudes, profiteering, and lobbying required is as daunting as the one on terrorism (note to self – you’re getting a little preachy here, lighten up, boy).
It’s all a matter of priorities. A friend or two dying a quiet death does not generate the headlines that an immediate tragedy killing thousands does, but it is a lot closer to home. There is something wrong here, like bleeding where it shouldn’t be, a strange wart, a wound that does not heal, and it affects us all. When good people opt to die rather than face insurmountable costs, something is broken. It is time to get it fixed before it is too late to do anything.
1:58:32 AM 
|
|
