Ryan Basgall Memorial Fund #medicaidgap

Today, a mother will be picking out a casket for her first-born son. A grueling and heart-wrenching process she’s all too familiar with since this is now her second son to bury. Late in the evening on Friday, April 8th, that mom was woken up to her son yelling for help, some of his last words being “mama, I can’t breathe, mama I think I’m dying.”

 

Ryan Basgall, 37, died Friday night at a small, underequipped hospital that was so understaffed, police officers were the ones performing CPR. Expectedly, the family still has so many questions as to why and what happened.

 

The morning Ryan died, he had told his mom, “I feel better than I have in a long time. I actually feel like myself today”. A sigh of relief for his mother as Ryan has struggled with mental and physical health ailments for the last two years but was treated sparingly due to his lack of access to health insurance. Last year, Ryan was diagnosed with ulcers and spent nearly two weeks in the hospital. Once stable, Ryan was sent home but without health insurance coverage, consistent follow-up care was just not an option for him. Ryan is the face of the Medicaid Gap. A political nightmare where because his income was too low he wasn’t eligible for individual coverage yet was also not eligible for State Medicaid.

 

For everyone who knew Ryan, you know how, regardless of never having enough himself, he would go out of his way to help the people he cared about. A trait he definitely got from his mother, Angie. If you asked Angie, she’d blame his loud mouth and stubbornness on his Dad ;) He was the type of kid to say “love you mama”, multiple times a day where Angie would be quick to smile and say “I know Ryan, you just told me five minutes ago.” Regardless of her sarcasm, that was the daily reminder that kept Angie going since she lost her 17 year old son, Jesse, in 2004.

 

Facebook just reminded me that today, of all the days, is National Sibling Day. Because not only is a mother picking out a casket, but beside her will be her last child, Jack. Today, on National Sibling Day, Jack will have his final look at his big brother, Ryan.

 

I’m setting up this page as a way to help lessen the burden for the family and also as a way to make others aware of what Ryan was going through due to his lack of access to medical care. In my profession, I help people like Ryan on a daily basis and I’ll forever have the guilt of not doing more. We’ve applied for disability twice with his third application pending now. We’ve applied for Kancare multiple times and even though it’s categorized as “medically urgent” the application has been in a queued status since January 3rd. Every 30 days, when I call in to check the status and express medical urgency, I’m told of the hundreds of other applications that are also marked with medical urgency. The last time I spoke to Ryan, his birthday March 4th, I gave him the most updated information on his case, basically saying it’s still pending but sounding hopeful that this time he’ll be approved. His response “No worries Val, I expected no different. Love you”

I’m so angry. Kansas, do better. Kansans, I plead with you – hold your State Representatives accountable. People are dying. If you’re not able to donate, that’s ok. Please consider sharing as a way to tell Ryan’s story. In Angie’s own words – If Ryan’s story could just help one person, my heart could heal. With all that being said, I’d like to end with less about how the system failed Ryan and more about who he was.

 

Ryan was loud. I say that with love, everyone in the room who didn’t really know Ryan, could still hear Ryan. His voice was unlike most peoples. It was deep and no matter the topic, he’d talk about it with vigor. He knew something about everything. He’d scour the internet researching history, sports stats, political information, ect and would absorb every word. When starting a conversation, you quickly realized Ryan most likely knew more about the topic than you did. He was tech savy and in the last year did what most people would think impossible - got his mother to finally use a smartphone. One thing that was relevant last night was all those little things which Angie depended on Ryan for.  She kept saying how she wished she would have written down the passwords like he told her to a million times.

 

Ryan was born and raised in LaCrosse, Ks where just about everyone is the same. White, republican, Volga-Catholic. My own dad flies a ‘Let’s go Brandon’ flag… not Ryan. You’d hear him calling people “Trumpers”, supporting the BLM, and just in general, representing his own beliefs, not caring who he offended.

 

Most kids in LaCrosse have some tie to agriculture, again – Ryan, completely opposite. In the last decade, he spent time in Colorado, Washington, and Oregon going from club to club as a DJ. He worked as a welder for several years and then when his health deteriorated focused on more remote work he could do from home.

 

His nickname was Whooday and he loved making music, hanging out with his friends, gaming, sleeping sitting up (who does that?!) and I’ll be blunt here – talking shit. The world seems so much quieter today. But for everyone who knows Ryan, you know he is telling his brother, Jesse, every story he’s missed out on in the last 18 years and because of that, I can smile. You’ll forever be missed, Ryan Fidelis Basgall. Thank you to everyone for reading Ryan’s story, making a donation, saying a prayer, or sharing. ❤️