Surrounded by gravestones, protesters speak out in favor of Affordable Care Act


Before the  Affordable Care Act (ACA), schoolteacher Alaina Comeaux viewed age 25 as a death sentence.

That's the age when she would be ousted from her parents' insurance and forced to try and find insurance on the private market to cover her treatments for Crohn's disease and ankylosing spondylitis. One treatment she receives as many as eight times a year costs $21,000 — per session. 

"My doctor actually tried to hide my diagnosis from insurance companies for more than a year," she said. "[Without regulations related to the ACA] I'd go bankrupt pretty quickly. ... It's pretty hopeless."

Comeaux benefits from key provisions of the health care law popularly known as Obamacare, including its ban on lifetime limits for coverage and its rule that insurers may not deny coverage to people with pre-existing conditions. In Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 on a chilly Saturday morning, she and several other people gave short testimonials on how the ACA has improved their lives.

The Jan. 28 event, organized by Jesuit Social Research Institute, the Gulf Coast Center for Law & Policy and Progressive Social Network, highlighted the grim reality of health care repeal. Public health experts recently have estimated that as many as 43,956 people will die each year if the law is repealed without a meaningful replacement. (They'd fill up  the seats in the Smoothie King Center, two and a half times.) A fact sheet distributed at the event estimated that as many as half a million Louisiana residents could be left uninsured by the law's repeal, which will almost certainly lead to deaths as people forego regular medical screenings and begin to rely on emergency rooms for routine care. 

Nonetheless, barreling through the law's repeal has been a top priority for President Donald Trump and congressional Republicans, though the president and Congress have begun to disagree on what should follow and how and when the law should be replaced. In closed-door meetings, lawmakers are beginning to express trepidation about "owning" health care, especially in the face of angry and, most of all, frightened constituents. 

In the cemetery, a small crowd of about 50 people gathered on the grassy path between crumbling mausoleums to listen to stories of lives changed thanks to the law. 

There was Red DeVecca, the elderly bass player who was able to buy ACA insurance for the first time just before he needed an expensive hernia operation. When ACA-subsidized state insurance markets opened, Whitney Babineaux was able to leave her full-benefits government job to pursue her lifelong dream of becoming an artist.