I realize I need to be tougher and less caring with Samuel.
So, tough you were born with 1p36 deletion syndrome. I know that in order to learn to walk, talk, feed yourself and function in society you require assistants, aides and therapists, but tough.
Tough, Sammie, because taxpayers don’t care, nor should they.
Take away the assistants, aides and therapists and let children like Samuel sit around and drool and defecate and urinate on themselves from birth to death. Samuel will look and act drastically different at say, 13, without those services, and many disabled individuals will die young, but hey, it’s costly, and typical taxpayers need their money. So, tough Samuel.
I hugged you and said I love you when you said “Dadda,” but a speech therapist helped with that. I know the gait trainer is supposed to help you walk, but I’m gonna have to sell it and reimburse the taxpayers. My heart smiled when I balanced you by your arms and for the first time you put one foot in front of the other as I held you up and you giggled, but that was the result of a physical therapist, so forget about walking, ‘cause that’s expensive.
I can’t afford those services, and it’s not because I don’t work full time, because I do, but they are way out of my price range. I’m already drowning in medical debt because of mine and my family’s medical issues.
Still, I’ve been selfish, and my typical neighbor needs to buy organic this week and gas up the SUV for a weekend in Montreal.
Awwww, Sammie just woke up and is smiling at me from his bed with his big eyes.
There I go again, acting soft when what typical taxpayers need is hard.
Look Sammie-Sam, I know I promised you would walk and talk one day, but, er…tough.
Reach Editor Stephen Bartlett at firstname.lastname@example.org.