The American Health System

I have frequently said, to those in the UK, hold onto your NHC.

My favorite little mom-and-pop café in Portland is owned and run by a good-humored couple in their 50's named Robin and Dave. They bought the shop about five years ago, and by working 15 and 18-hour days for this whole time, they have built their little place into hub of conviviality in my neighborhood. Their specialty has been "Friday is Pie-Day," because Robin loves to make pies. Berry pies, fruit pies, cream pies, cobblers, and pies I've never thought about before.

Sue and I had lunch there today, and we missed seeing Robin and Dave. I asked the server, "Is Friday no longer Pie-Day?" 

She gasped slightly and told me, "The pie-maker has Stage 3 pancreatic cancer." 

She pointed out a rather rumpled sign taped to the counter where the pies used to be. In the USA, if you have enough friends with enough money, you might be able to get treatment for cancer. 

The rage I feel about that just magnifies the rage I am feeling about the current Supreme Court nominee, about which I will say no more.