Making something right in at least one corner of this vast house of wrongs

Okay, so I was going to write about how much I want to assasinate Lindsey Graham, but now I have decided that he is not worth my addressing his idiocy.
So instead I am going to talk about how Maine has just recently signed into law this nations' first universal state health plan. Within the next five years, Dirigo Health Program, will enroll 190,000 uninsured Maine citizens, funded by the State Treasury of Maine as well as changing Maine Care (medicaid) standards to include more poverty line families that did not qualify before. And this makes me very happy, because if Maine can do it, then maybe others will follow and we'll see how nice it is not to have to worry about how we are going to afford to take our kids to the doctor when they get sick.
On another note, one of my friends told me, without having to think about it, that she was very satisfied with the fact that because she could afford better insurance than the person in line ahead of her in the emergency room that was on Medicaid, she would be seen first. It made me so horribly sad because she honestly thought that this system where superior health care is given to those who can afford it was better and more just than a system where everyone had fair and equal coverage. Because in the latter type of system, all patients being equal, you might actually have to wait your turn to have your gall bladder removed, where as it is now, your money and good insurance could get you bumped up in the line. Now this friend is not a bad person. But I have seen what my culture has done to her, feeding her line after line about the value of a bought and sold world, that money equals happiness, that hardwork and determination equals money, the laziness and ignorance equals poverty, that life is a race in which everyone is the enemy and no one is our friend. And that's no way to live, or at least I can't see how it is. My mother has good state employee insurance, and it's hard to pay those pharmacy bills yes, but if my little brother comes down with a bad ear infection, she doesn't have to think twice about taking him to the doctor and getting him put on antibiotics. But I had to stop going to my pulmanologist for my asthma when they stopped taking our insurance. But when push comes to shove, my family doesn't have to worry about not being able to keep themselves in good health. So my culture tells me that I should feel proud and happy that once a year I go into a nice smelling office to get my 300 dollar gynological exam where the nurses make me feel welcome, and the art on the wall's not half bad, and I don't have to pay but twenty percent of that price. Should I just shut up and thank my lucky stars that I wasn't born in a trailer park to parents who worked sixty hours a week and got an expensive HMO plan only if they were really lucky. So easily I could have been, at no fault of my own.
These are the embarrassments of privilege, I refuse, as so many of the lucky ones do, to embrace them. I will not wear these chains with pride, but I will shake them as loud as I can on the streets so that if nothing else, we start looking up from our cafe lattes and trying to find out what all the noise is about.