I have a feeling the Wall Street Journal is going to get a lot of feedback about this unbelievably muddled piece by a Greenwich, Conn., neurosurgeon who ultimately sings the praises of an illegal alien with tuberculosis.
A social worker tracked down the illegal alien’s friends and family. They all tested positive for TB and, get this, were all working “behind the scenes” in local restaurants. How appetizing. No word on whether the illegal workers’ employers or local public health officials were informed.
The neurosurgeon’s patient ended up at Greenwich Hospital “because the one in the town where he’d settled, the neighboring and much less well-to-do Port Chester, had shut down after going bankrupt. That hospital had cared for a large number of patients just like him: no insurance, no English, no papers.” Sound familiar?
After racking up $200,000 in hospital costs, the patient was released. I’ll quote the end of the piece without comment:
I thought I’d never see this young man again, but I was wrong. Six months after surgery, he walked into my office. Walked in. No wheelchair, no walker, no cane, not even a limp. Not only that, he told me (through a translator) that he was looking for a new job. I thought about all the American workers I’d operated on, for far less serious problems, who were quick to bring in disability paperwork after surgery, hoping I’d deem them permanently disabled, unfit for any line of work. And at that moment, the resentment I’d felt six months earlier was replaced by something quite different–admiration.
If columns like this one are intended to bring readers around to the Journal’s pro-illegal alien amnesty views, the editors (like the illegal alien march organizers) are more galactically out of touch than I ever imagined.