Last week, Little Lobbyists families were invited to participate in a Senate press conference opposing President Trump’s proposed budget cuts to Medicaid. Following Senators Schumer, Murray, Stabenow, and Wyden, Little Lobbyists member Cristina Perez Edmunds (with her son Oscar by her side) delivered an unforgettable reminder of the power of Medicaid:
My name is Cristina Perez Edmunds, and it is an honor to speak here today. I am a proud first generation American daughter of a Cuban refugee, and proud mother to my beautiful son, Oscar. Oscar is a strong, happy, beautiful boy, with big brown eyes. He’s about to turn four. He loves books and bath time and has amazing hair. Oscar was born with an extremely rare chromosomal deletion — there is only one other person in the world with the exact same missing genetic material. Because of this diagnosis, Oscar lives with stage three kidney disease, heart disease, and brain differences which have required endless testing, appointments, and even surgeries. He requires a feeding tube for nutrition, as he has trouble swallowing, and is a wheelchair user — although he works extremely hard to gain mobility skills in his many therapy appointments.
Oscar was born prematurely, and his father and I thought he just needed some time to catch up. Unfortunately, it became clear that we had a much longer road ahead of us than we had anticipated. As parents, our ultimate goal is to raise a son who is independent, and any milestone toward that is cause for huge celebration.
I want you to think of your own children, asleep at night in their cribs or beds. Perhaps the temperature has dropped in the house, and their blanket has made its way to the other side of the bed. I’d imagine your child might wake up, grab their blanket, get themselves cozy, and fall back asleep. Or perhaps, they’d walk to your room, and say, “Mommy, Daddy, I’m cold, can you come tuck me in?” This is a privilege that many of us parents of medically complex children do not take for granted.
My child does not speak and does not have independent mobility. He cannot walk to our room in the middle of the night to tell us if he’s cold, or uncomfortable, or having a bad dream. It has taken four years of intensive therapies to get to where we are now. It was a year before Oskie could sit on his own, two years before he could say “momma” and “dada,” three years before he figured out how to move forward in his walker, and, this year, he learned how to scoot forward.
The opportunity to learn these things comes at a hefty price. An initial consultation for therapy is $500. That’s just for someone to watch him for an hour and discern what he needs from therapy. Each session after that costs about $150 two to three times per week, all year round. The wheelchair he uses costs $6,000, and the gait trainer he has at home is another $4,000. The gait trainer, until a few weeks ago, has been his ONLY mode of independent mobility. Add to that the cost of his formula, which must be administered via g-tube. Just to meet Oscar’s basic needs to eat and to learn how to move, our family is staring at a bill of approximately $30k per year. This total does not include doctor appointments, diapers, ER visits, and the surgeries that lie ahead.
Thirty thousand dollars per year is someone’s salary. For many families like us, Medicaid is literally a lifesaver. Children like mine require full time caregiving — and may require that for the rest of their lives. This usually means one parent has to quit working, like I did, to care for their child full-time. Without Medicaid, families would have to choose between giving their child the opportunity for mobility or making rent; teaching their child how to speak, or fixing the roof; teaching their child how to eat, or fixing their car.
Simply put, without Medicaid, families like ours would be bankrupt.
The other night, when we put Oscar to bed, he grabbed his blanket, pulled it over himself, rolled over, and fell asleep. He is able to do that, in a comfortable home, in a comfortable bed, because of Medicaid.
Yesterday, President Trump released his new budget, including detrimental cuts to Medicaid. This will, without a doubt, reduce, or even eliminate, accessibility to the life-saving benefits that medically complex children, like mine, rely on to survive and thrive.
Cristina Perez is a New Orleans-based singer and mother to three-year-old Oscar, her medically complex and disabled son. She is focused on using her original music to bring light, love, and awareness to her community and to give a louder voice to mothers of children with disabilities and rare diseases. Her latest single, “Lessons I’ve Learned” was released last year as an uplifting anthem for mothers to turn to when things get rough. Cristina also authors the blog “It’s Not Too Complicated,” where she breaks down the trials and tribulations of motherhood, marriage, and everyday life with a medically complex child.
