Empathy is a Made-Up Word

There is a drug called Charlotte’s Web that is legal in Colorado and nowhere else.  It is an incredibly effective treatment for epileptic seizures and is legally available in but one state.  I don’t remember any of the Pfizer, Astra-Zeneca, or Merck products looking to solve the world’s small bladder, varicose vein, and impotence problems being available in limited areas.  Don’t get me wrong, if I couldn’t get it up, I would gladly take a drug for that, but while corporations have tackled the type of First-World problems that get Americans ridiculed, the availability of a potentially life-saving drug has been delayed far too long.  I say delayed because I don’t know that drugs like these won’t become available in the days to come; I hope they will.  And I say potentially because as the critics will tell you, the testing on these “healers” has been limited.

And while onlookers can see the big picture, await the testing, and applaud generously when government finally concludes in their favor, the individual suffers.  The masses may be okay with waiting out the appropriate processes, but those with a horse in the race would like to see the finish line before hope is lost. 

And testing has been limited, forcing even the most ardent of supporters to urge caution.  Potential might not sound like much, but for those with little hope, for those without control, it means everything.  Potential is better than nothing, and when you feel you have nothing to lose, the unknown that might help is a hell of a lot better than the known that doesn’t.

Imagine this, imagine you’re a parent, and you watch your child struggle every day in pain, and you know there is little you can do.  I believe that is that sort of thing that could drive a parent to insanity.

Now I understand that empathy is a made up word, and sympathy is hard to come by, but if it were me I’d do right by those who suffer.

And I don’t want to hear that It’s just not possible, or that We’re not there yet, or that These things take time, or There’s a lot of red tape involved.   Make an exception, make it happen, get off your infallible high horse and do some good. 

There is no doubt in my mind that if I were one of these parents I would break the law.  I would drive, fly, or walk to Colorado to get this drug.  I would do whatever I could for my child and for myself.  And if I was pulled over, if I was caught I would laugh whole-heartedly.  The idea that I was doing something wrong, that I was an evil-doer to be locked up with those who have inflicted harm upon others is so utterly ridiculous it defies reason. 

And then I imagine I’m the cop.  I took an oath to uphold the law; to be a moral man.  If it cost me my career I wouldn’t arrest you.  How would that make me the good guy?  Secretly I would hope it might come to that. 

Whether I was the cop who refused to do his duty and arrest a user of illegal drugs, or the holder of those drugs taken into custody of the state, I would raise such a stink it would almost make the injustice worth it.  I would use the opportunity to build momentum for change.  I would be proud to have done such good.  And in the meantime I would painstakingly watch as those who suffered continued to wait.  I would be immersed in the struggle; nothing could be done fast enough to relieve my pain.

Perhaps it is easier to ignore.  It is easier for the masses to ignore the problems of the few.  For this is a drug for the few.  It is not the cure to cancer.  It will not positively (or negatively) affect the lives of the masses.  But to the mother, the father, the family of a suffering child, that doesn’t matter.  Statistics don’t matter to the individual.  One in ten-thousand or one in a million is still one, and for that one, the fact that he or she is the only one doesn’t make it any easier, instead it makes it harder.