The High Price of Staying Alive in America

Why We’re Turning to GoFundMe to Save Our Loved Ones

There’s a quiet crisis unfolding in America—not the kind that makes nightly headlines, but one that’s eating away at families, bank accounts, and human dignity every single day. It’s the crisis of catastrophic medical need in a country where insurance doesn’t mean protection, Medicare doesn’t mean coverage, and Medicaid doesn’t mean you’re safe.

My family is living that crisis right now.

Over the past two years, my brother Ross and his wife Claudine have seen their lives unravel in slow motion. Not because of bad choices. Not because of neglect. But because of illness. And because the so-called safety nets we all assume will be there—insurance, Social Security, Medicare—just aren’t enough. Not even close.

Claudine and Ross are not just patients—they are people who gave their lives to helping others.

Claudine was a high school English teacher for nearly three decades. One of those rare souls who didn’t just teach novels and grammar—she taught self-worth. Students remember her not for the grades she gave but for the hope she offered. After retiring, she continued that mission with the Connecticut Department of Education, working to help kids and teachers statewide.

Ross was a career public servant, helping people find jobs as a strategist with the Connecticut Labor Department. He lifted up the unemployed, the underemployed, and those society often forgets.

Now they’re the ones being forgotten.

The Human Cost of a Broken System

Claudine was diagnosed with colon cancer five years ago. It spread to her liver. She’s been through seven hospital stays and countless rounds of chemo. Her endurance is heroic—but cancer doesn’t care about heroes. It keeps coming.

Meanwhile, Ross has been battling a rare neuromuscular disorder that causes carbon dioxide to dangerously accumulate in his body. He’s been hospitalized eleven times. He’s now on oxygen and staring down the need for constant care.

Their daily lives revolve around medications, treatments, oxygen machines, home aides, and bills—so many bills.

And here’s the catch: most of it isn’t covered.

Despite Medicare. Despite insurance. Despite a lifetime of paying into the system.

Two years ago, when Claudine had a severe setback, they had to bring in in-home care—at $7,000 a month. Transportation to medical appointments cost $150 per trip. That wiped out their savings. They’ve been living on credit cards and desperation ever since.

Today, Claudine is in hospice. But even hospice doesn’t cover the overnight help she now needs. That’s another $3,000 a month—money they simply don’t have.

They are good, honest, hard working people—my family—and they’re going broke just trying to stay alive. This isn’t some distant tragedy. It’s personal.

We’re not alone. Millions of Americans are in the exact same position right now, fighting to survive in a system that treats illness like a financial punishment. And it’s only getting worse—because those in power, from the President to Congress to the profiteers running the medical insurance industry, continue to treat human suffering as a budget line or business model instead of a call for compassion.

The Insurance Illusion

Most Americans believe some version of this myth: “If I get really sick, insurance will cover it.” That’s simply not true.

Private insurance is full of traps—caps, exclusions, high deductibles, and endless denials—that can turn a major illness into financial ruin. Medicare doesn’t cover long-term home care. And Medicaid? It only kicks in after you’ve spent down nearly everything you have. Trying to appeal a decision is like navigating a bureaucratic maze with no exit.

Now, a bill in Congress threatens to make things even worse. If Trump’s so-called “big, beautiful bill” passes, it would all but eliminate Medicaid, putting nearly 50 million people at risk of losing the care they depend on to survive, including my brother and his wife.

These systems were built to manage ordinary illness. They are not equipped for the relentless, expensive, chronic care required for things like advanced cancer or neuromuscular disease.

So people fall through the cracks. Thousands of them. Every single day.

And now, with upcoming federal budget cuts, those cracks are going to become chasms. Millions more will lose access to critical services. More families will be forced into heartbreaking choices. Stay in your home, or pay for medication? Hire help for your dying spouse, or buy groceries?

This isn’t theoretical. It’s real. It’s personal.

Why We’re Using GoFundMe

GoFundMe was never supposed to be the American health care system. But for millions of families—including ours—it’s the last resort.

That’s why we’re trying to raise $30,000 to help Claudine and Ross cover the care that insurance won’t. Not for luxuries. For basics.

• Paying for the loving aide who helps Claudine every day—and soon, every night

• Covering oxygen equipment, medications, and co-pays

• Keeping their electricity on, their fridge stocked, their dignity intact

• Paying down medical debt from hospitalizations where insurance bailed early

This isn’t about charity. It’s about justice. About supporting two people who have spent their lives supporting others.

And they’re not alone. A study by the American Journal of Public Health found that 66.5% of all bankruptcies in the United States are tied to medical issues. Let that sink in. In the richest nation in the world, getting sick is enough to ruin you.

A Plea for Compassion—and Reform

We are asking for help, yes—but we are also raising a red flag.

No one should have to beg strangers online just to afford the most basic care. No one should spend the final months of their life worried about money. No one should have to choose between breathing assistance and heating their home.

If you can donate, please do. Every dollar helps Claudine and Ross stay in their home, with dignity, in this final stretch.

To contribute: Go Fund Me

And if you’re reading this and feeling rage, you should. Use it. Talk to your elected officials. Demand better. Because sooner or later, it won’t be someone else’s family. It’ll be yours.

In a country as rich as the United States, letting people die poor and alone isn’t just a policy failure—it’s a moral one.

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Until we meet again, let your conscience be your guide.