The question I’ve been asking myself these last four weeks is, why are my husband, Bruce, and I so special?

Bruce went to Thayer hospital on Jan. 14 for what was supposed to have been day surgery lasting about a half-hour. In addition to enlarged tonsils, he had a small mass in his throat that needed to come out.

I knew things hadn’t gone as planned when my wait stretched to four hours. When I finally got to see Bruce, he looked more like a pin cushion than my ballroom dancing partner.

Later that afternoon, I was in Augusta in the Critical Care Unit of MaineGeneral Medical Center, listening to a doctor explaining what had gone wrong. I learned a new word, “laryngospasm,” an uncontrolled/involuntary muscular spasm of the vocal cords that temporarily makes it difficult to speak or breathe. I also learned we would be spending “some time” in the CCU.

“Some time” turned out to be eight days. Six more days were spent in a room on Two West.

Fourteen days in the hospital is an extraordinary amount of time these days, involving an extraordinary number of procedures, medications, professionals and support staff. Each time another med was administered, “cha-ching” registered dimly in the back of my mind.

I was fortunate that I could stay day and night. One of my sisters offered to come from Colorado to be the wife I had always joked I needed. While I spent all my time at the hospital, my sister Janet did our laundry, fed the cats and cleaned their litter, traveled back and forth to bring my clothes, and kept me company.

The care we received at MaineGeneral was exceptional. Each time a staffer left the room, they asked if there was anything either Bruce, once he was out of his drug-induced coma, or I needed. In addition to top-notch care Bruce was receiving, I had access to shower, an amazing cafeteria with healthy, low-cost food, and beautiful art on the walls.

I spent not two minutes during those two weeks worrying about whether I would have a job when this was over, because I have a job with paid sick time and family leave.

Bruce and I also have health insurance. We got married two years ago so that Bruce could quit one of his jobs to devote more time to our small business and be covered by my plan.

Our health insurance coverage is top-of-the-line, thanks to my employer. Medical bills are not going to mean bankruptcy for us. Forty percent of bankruptcies in this country happen because of medical expenses, and in 75 percent of those cases, people had health insurance.

Health insurance also means that we will have the home health care Bruce needs to maintain both the temporary feeding and trach tubes. He will have the tests he needs to monitor his progress and the treatment he needs to survive his cancer.

So, why are we special? Why is it that we deserve this kind of treatment? Is it because we happen to have one good job among the four that we now hold that provides health insurance, sick time and family leave?

I came in contact with lots of people during our stay who work more than one job, sometimes more than 40 hours per week. Don’t those people deserve coverage, even if none of those jobs provides insurance for part-time employees?

What about the people who are laid off from their jobs because their employers close their mills even after they’ve had tax breaks to keep them open?

Why do our governor and many state and national lawmakers call taxpayer-funded universal health care “socialist”? Aren’t our tax dollars paying for their health care? I think the quickest way to solve the health insurance problem would be to rescind their taxpayer-funded health insurance, and then have the debate about who is worthy and what is socialist. I’m fairly certain it would be a short debate.

It took me a while to understand the phrase, “the personal is political.” It became clearer when Ronald Reagan took office and immediately began deciding who could and who couldn’t have an abortion. Women with money will always have the right, regardless of politicians’ anti-choice votes, but why should it be that way?

I can only hope that in the next election, people who are not benefiting from the trickle-down economics of the past 35 years begin to understand the power of their vote, as well as who is looking out for their interests, and who is not.

I’ve come to the conclusion that Bruce and I are not special. We’re just lucky. People’s health and welfare should not depend on that.

Karen Heck is a longtime resident and former mayor of Waterville.