As an abled parent of a disabled child, I’m learning to help my son manage accessibility burdens because our communities and institutions aren’t designed with him in mind.
We can do better for children with disabilities by building more accessible, more inclusive communities and by teaching them how to assert their rights in situations that aren’t in compliance with the law.
California’s expansions of Medi-Cal to cover most low-income children and adults are a major step towards health equity in California.
But expanding health coverage is only the beginning. Now it’s time for California to lead the way again by shoring up quality and access within the system.
Black Californians have one of the lowest life expectancies in California. This is despite the fact that the vast majority of these residents have some form of insurance coverage and consistently demonstrate a strong interest in taking care of their health.
This contradiction begs the question: What is wrong with health care for Black Californians?
I made the choice to continue a high-risk pregnancy, but I honor the choice of any pregnant person who opts to terminate given the same set of facts.
What I don’t like is seeing ableism — that is, prejudice against adults and children with disabilities — rolled into discussions about abortion, as has happened often since the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade.
Like thousands of other Californians, this was not due to any of her own missteps — it was an overreaction of the state as it tries to crack down on fraud.
The unintended consequence is that people like my mom are having to go without monthly checks that, in many cases, allow them to put food on their tables and a roof over their heads.
The baby formula shortage wreaking havoc across the United States is terrifying for any parent who relies on infant formula to feed their child. It’s especially calamitous for babies and children with special health care needs who rely on special prescription formulas that have also been impacted by the supply shortage.
The shortage highlights an ongoing, systemic failure to ensure vulnerable children have secure access to medically necessary, life supporting products and equipment.
Because no one had talked with me as a teen about what a real, healthy relationship looks like, I didn’t know what to do when my boyfriend became abusive.
I eventually escaped and have spent the last several years healing. But I want to help others avoid what I went through, including preteens and teens who are just beginning to explore relationships.
My life changed when I moved away from my hometown in urban Southern California, when I was 27. It was difficult to see it then but being away from my support system meant I had no one close by to turn to when my relationship became abusive.
An even bigger barrier to escaping the abuse was the fact that I couldn’t find anywhere to take my pets. Survivors with pets like myself learn very quickly that most shelters cannot accommodate animals.
AG is a 2-month-old, healthy chubby baby with “Michelin man” rolls and pinchable cheeks, and he’s my patient. I’m a pediatric intern at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center, a safety-net hospital in Los Angeles. When AG missed his checkup in late December, I was worried.
My colleague told me that AG recently had been in our emergency room. He tested positive for COVID-19.
California’s system for providing durable medical equipment and supplies at home is complicated and difficult to manage, even in normal times. During the COVID-19 pandemic, rationing and supply chain disruptions have made things impossible for families of children with special health care needs.
I believe California needs a state oversight office for durable medical equipment to give families and patients a way to resolve problems before they cause harm.