My brother Alan
When she read about my brother's situation, a fellow DailyKossack, betson08, suggested we start a ChipIn account to help him and his family.
Here's what Alan is facing:
Here's what Alan is facing:
Alan just spent two weeks in the woods to consider his options. He didn't use the gun. He says he probably won't. But it's an option.
Because of the tumor growing around his spine, Alan can't use his right hand much anymore, so he duct tapes a paintbrush to his hand in order to paint and stain the cabinets and furniture he makes. He has to sell as much as he can; his medications alone cost $700 a month. The pain makes it impossible for him to ride his motorcycle, but he still walks a couple of miles every day, and the local police make it a point to drive past and check on his progress, as Alan's gait isn't very steady anymore and they're a little worried about him out there.
He turns 47 two weeks from today.
What do you say to someone who has to include suicide as a health-care option?
If this story were unique, we could raise money and send Alan to a center of excellence that specializes in the spinal surgery that might or might not work. Unfortunately, he's just one of millions of people in the U.S. who can't afford the $15,000 it's already cost him for testing, let alone the hundreds of thousands it would cost to get him to Minnesota or Ohio for surgery to remove the tumor.
Alan's just another person in the U.S. whose life isn't worth much.
A couple weeks ago, Alan went to the woods by Bryce Canyon. He fasted. He prayed. He did the math on how much it would cost to stay alive through 2008. He found a hummingbird's nest and camped nearby to watch the eggs hatch.
With the use of his right hand dimishing every day, he refigured how long it will take him as a lefty to finish the art project he started last year, a 25-foot-tall picnic table that will double as a camping shelter in a state park. There's a Boy Scout troop helping out so the Scouts can earn their woodworking badges, and several kids from a juvenile detention facility are building some of the components. Alan has a past himself -- a former runaway and drug addict who stole a car when he was 17 to escape an abusive home life. He's very patient with the kids and he's a little crazy, too, but he expects them to be serious about their work, and they respond.
About three years ago, he and his wife Cathy took in one of the boys from the detention facility. Evan's own family wouldn't let him come home after his release. Even though Alan and Cathy have six children of their own (four still school-age) and a grandchild they care for, they readily opened their hearts and home to Evan, who'd helped Alan build some cabinetry for a local hardware shop and who seems to have a kindred knack for seeing possibilities in grains of wood.
Alan does things like that all the time. There's an elderly man in town whose failing eyesight made it hard for him to find things around the house, so Alan build him a custom pantry with Braille labels on the shelves and a special end table with cubbies for his telephone and remote controls. He made a window garden for a little girl stranded indoors while going through chemotherapy and radiation. When a snowstorm paralyzed the small town where he lives, he chopped and hauled wood for many of his neighbors, using a sled he build himself.
But none of that matters to Alan's insurance company. And it doesn't convince the Medicaid people, who've decided that he and his wife aren't poor enough to warrant coverage. Even if Medicaid did pick him up, he wouldn't be sent to Minnesota or Ohio, where skilled surgeons might be able to remove the tumor without paralyzing him. Alan just isn't worth the expense.
Which is why my little brother has that gun. And why he feels he's just a prayer away from its being his family's last best hope.
Because of the tumor growing around his spine, Alan can't use his right hand much anymore, so he duct tapes a paintbrush to his hand in order to paint and stain the cabinets and furniture he makes. He has to sell as much as he can; his medications alone cost $700 a month. The pain makes it impossible for him to ride his motorcycle, but he still walks a couple of miles every day, and the local police make it a point to drive past and check on his progress, as Alan's gait isn't very steady anymore and they're a little worried about him out there.
He turns 47 two weeks from today.
What do you say to someone who has to include suicide as a health-care option?
If this story were unique, we could raise money and send Alan to a center of excellence that specializes in the spinal surgery that might or might not work. Unfortunately, he's just one of millions of people in the U.S. who can't afford the $15,000 it's already cost him for testing, let alone the hundreds of thousands it would cost to get him to Minnesota or Ohio for surgery to remove the tumor.
Alan's just another person in the U.S. whose life isn't worth much.
A couple weeks ago, Alan went to the woods by Bryce Canyon. He fasted. He prayed. He did the math on how much it would cost to stay alive through 2008. He found a hummingbird's nest and camped nearby to watch the eggs hatch.
With the use of his right hand dimishing every day, he refigured how long it will take him as a lefty to finish the art project he started last year, a 25-foot-tall picnic table that will double as a camping shelter in a state park. There's a Boy Scout troop helping out so the Scouts can earn their woodworking badges, and several kids from a juvenile detention facility are building some of the components. Alan has a past himself -- a former runaway and drug addict who stole a car when he was 17 to escape an abusive home life. He's very patient with the kids and he's a little crazy, too, but he expects them to be serious about their work, and they respond.
About three years ago, he and his wife Cathy took in one of the boys from the detention facility. Evan's own family wouldn't let him come home after his release. Even though Alan and Cathy have six children of their own (four still school-age) and a grandchild they care for, they readily opened their hearts and home to Evan, who'd helped Alan build some cabinetry for a local hardware shop and who seems to have a kindred knack for seeing possibilities in grains of wood.
Alan does things like that all the time. There's an elderly man in town whose failing eyesight made it hard for him to find things around the house, so Alan build him a custom pantry with Braille labels on the shelves and a special end table with cubbies for his telephone and remote controls. He made a window garden for a little girl stranded indoors while going through chemotherapy and radiation. When a snowstorm paralyzed the small town where he lives, he chopped and hauled wood for many of his neighbors, using a sled he build himself.
But none of that matters to Alan's insurance company. And it doesn't convince the Medicaid people, who've decided that he and his wife aren't poor enough to warrant coverage. Even if Medicaid did pick him up, he wouldn't be sent to Minnesota or Ohio, where skilled surgeons might be able to remove the tumor without paralyzing him. Alan just isn't worth the expense.
Which is why my little brother has that gun. And why he feels he's just a prayer away from its being his family's last best hope.
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