America has become accustomed to talking about what divides us. We debate taxes and tariffs, immigration and education, healthcare and climate change. Cable television reminds us what separates us. Social media rewards us for disagreeing more loudly than yesterday. Yet, beneath those disagreements lies something quietly remarkable.

Some experiences strip away nearly every political label we wear. One begins with a phone call in the middle of the night: A husband develops crushing chest pain, a daughter is rushed to an emergency department after a car crash, or a mother hears the word every family fears: cancer. In those moments, yesterday’s arguments suddenly become distant.

A hospital bed has no political party

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Fear has no political party. Neither do hope and love. When someone we love becomes ill, nearly every person wants the same things: timely, safe care, clinicians with the time and support to provide it, and the confidence that if something goes wrong, someone will notice. Imagine two members of Congress recovering in neighboring hospital beds, one Republican and one Democrat. Only hours earlier, they may have been debating healthcare legislation from opposite sides of the aisle. Now neither asks how the nurse voted, whether the surgeon supported the last presidential candidate, or whether the respiratory therapist watches Fox News or MSNBC. They ask the questions every patient asks: “When will the doctor be back?” “Why am I still waiting?” “Am I going to be........

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