Back to the Cesspool

Dr. Cathy Dunham is sitting in her Washington D. C. office talking on the phone to me who am on my back deck. Though she lives in Boston, she commutes to the nation’s Capitol where she is working to provide oral health care to homeless children.

A couple of years ago twelve year old Deamonte Driver had an abscessed molar that was untreated because he didn’t have insurance. The infection spread to his brain and killed him. The family’s Medicaid coverage had lapsed because enrollment paperwork had been sent to the wrong address. The Mother tried hard to get her son’s tooth treated by taking him to the Hospital Emergency room.

Doctors operated twice and Deamonte spent several weeks in rehabilitation which is where he died. A relative minor dental procedure could have prevented all of this but most dentists don’t treat Medicaid patients. So the hospital ate the cost of treating an emergency which is one of the reasons health care cost so much.

Cathy is working to fix this.

I first met her eleven years ago when she visited Savannah to inspect our work at Union Mission. Representing the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, Cathy was the founder of their “Community Health Leader” program; an effort to creative health care programs. She also runs the Access Project for Brandeis University out of her back pocket.

We had started the J. C. Lewis Health Center providing both health and oral health care to homeless people.

Cathy liked what she saw and so I was given an award at the National Press Club in D.C. along with nine other people who were really doing creative work (most of us remain very close friends). Part of the award was $100,000 in cash which I gave to Union Mission.

Now she is asking me if I know the story of Deamonte.

“I do,” I replied. “I was in D.C. when it happened. I remember the story in the Washington Post.”

“When are you coming back up here?” she asked.

“Aw I don’t know Cathy,” I stammered. The last place I want to return to these days is Washington D. C. I’ve had my fill of politicians and the “Baskin-Robbins” approach to doing business. You go to Congress, take a number, ask them to help fix something, have to keep returning and asking them, until one day the Congressman becomes convinced that it’s an idea that she or he can champion.

Then they fix the problem, or most often fix some of the problem.

Then you take a new number and go to the back of the line and start all over. That really is how most things happen in Washington!

“You need to come,” she scolded.

Damn! Back into the cesspool of politics?

Then again, I’d do anything for Cathy. She actually did a lot of things to make Savannah a better place. In addition to helping funnel well over half-a-million dollars in funding, she visited often, typically visiting the hospitals to solidify their support of our efforts. She also promoted our work nationally.

So I owe her. Actually, all of Savannah owes her. They just don’t know that they do.

“Micheal,” she said in her lilting, New England accent that always has a hint of laughter behind it, “seriously you could help with all of this. You are really good at this stuff.”

Damn! I’d called her asking for a favor. How did this happen? Then again … she’s Cathy Dunham for a reason.

“OK,” I sheepishly say.

“Perfect!” she laughs.

So now the nation’s Capitol is in my future again.

Dammit!

Then again … I’ve had my break. There is lots to do. Before other little boys and girls die for stupid reasons like money, Dentist profiling, and lack of access to the best health care system in the world.