This First Person article is the experience of Scott MacMillan, who lives in Dumfries, N.B. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
I watched the plane disappear into the sky, carrying my 15-month-old daughter to a hospital where her life could hopefully be saved.
Hours earlier, we were in the emergency room in Fredericton, surrounded by sombre nurses. Doctors were attempting to drill into Rosemary’s bone marrow to get fluids into her tiny body. The on-call specialist was hours away. The doctor told us our child was in diabetic ketoacidosis. That meant her pancreas wasn’t producing enough insulin and her body was shutting down. This was 2022, so pandemic protocols were broken to let me into the hospital as this might have been goodbye.
Rosemary was so strong; she held on until she and her mother were airlifted to the hospital in Halifax. I hadn’t slept in three days, but I had to be next to my daughter. I drove five hours alone, trying to outrun an incoming snowstorm, unable to think or speak.
When I finally arrived in Halifax, my partner, Katie, reassured me that Rosemary was stable but the next few days were critical to ensure there was no brain or kidney damage. Our daughter was connected to countless wires and machines. There was still a long road ahead. Rosemary had been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.
That was when the health-care team asked about our insurance.
I had just started a new job as an engineer-in-training and was only six weeks into a one-year contract. Katie worked seasonally and picked up casual winter work. I thought I had benefits — at least, I assumed I did but at some previous jobs, I had needed to be employed for six months before coverage kicked in.
I had never considered that I might not be covered.
That moment hit me like a brick. I had been ignorant. I had been privileged. I had always taken health coverage for granted, and now my daughter’s life depended on it.
It was the moment I realized: Canada’s health-care system isn’t truly universal — not until pharmacare is part of it.
Canadians love to boast about our health-care system. It’s part of our national pride — something that makes us different from our southern neighbours. We like to think we take care of each other and consider health care a right.
But what good is a doctor’s visit if you can’t afford the medication they prescribe?
In Rosemary’s case, the airlift, specialists, machines, medications, devices, infusions, blood transfusion and the three-week hospital stay were all covered under medicare.
But the life-sustaining medication and devices she will need daily to live with Type 1 diabetes? Those aren’t guaranteed under medicare.
In fact, Canada is the only universal health-care country without universal drug coverage. Different provinces provide varying levels of drug coverage and often have separate programs for different types of medical supplies. Some people rely on private or employer-provided insurance plans, creating the need to co-ordinate between provincial systems, insurers and medical companies. It can be a difficult system to navigate.
That’s why, as a voter, I’m looking for a federal party that supports universal pharmacare.
The Liberal government, with support from the NDP, passed legislation for a nationwide pharmacare plan in October 2024, committing $1.5 billion for birth control and diabetes medications. It’s progress, but pharmacare remains fragile and needs political will to survive. Each province and territory must sign on. Manitoba was first in February, with B.C. and PEI following in March.
Type 1 diabetes has no cure. For Rosemary, this isn’t temporary care — it’s a lifelong need, and it’s expensive. Type 1 diabetes can cost up to $18,306 per year out-of-pocket. Millions of Canadians ration insulin, cut pills in half or go without medication because they can’t afford it.
Without insulin, Rosemary would die. Without glucose monitors, we’d be flying blind, constantly fearing dangerously low blood sugar levels that could leave her unconscious, seizing or dead in an instant. These aren’t optional supplies — they are essential to her survival.
We haven’t yet seen the full benefit of pharmacare — it’s still in its infancy. It needs nurturing to grow into something that can care for us and care for my daughter long after I’m gone.
And yet, its future feels uncertain.
The Conservative Party voted against the act initially and its leader, Pierre Poilievre, said he would “reject the radical plan for a ‘single-payer’ drug plan.'” Since the election was called, he said that no one currently receiving benefits, such as dental care, would lose them. Because no pharmacare benefits have been technically issued yet (given that provinces and Ottawa are still working out the details), his wording leaves the door open to ending the program before it even begins.
The Liberals frame pharmacare as something “for everyone who needs it,” which also feels like a step back from the party’s earlier commitment before its leadership changed. The NDP and Greens continue to support universal pharmacare, while the Bloc defends Quebec’s right to maintain its own separate system.
As a professional engineer, I have experience with preventative maintenance in asset management. People need regular care too — crises are always more costly. That’s why I support pharmacare; there are economies of scale in bulk-buying medications, and universal pharmacare is designed to take advantage of the lower costs.
But beyond the numbers, pharmacare would also provide true freedom for my daughter and me.
Freedom to take a job I prefer, not just one that offers a drug plan. The freedom to chase opportunities or start a business without worrying when benefits kick in. The freedom for my daughter to celebrate her graduation and not worry about insurance. Freedom for parents like me and Katie to focus on their child’s health without stressing about our bank balance and struggling to pay other bills.
Right now, we don’t have that freedom. As long as I’m here, I’ll fight for Rosemary’s health, but I fear the day she’ll have to fight alone. Medicare saved my daughter. Pharmacare will keep her alive.
No parent should have to stare at an emergency airlift and wonder if they can afford the drugs and medical supplies to keep their child alive.
That’s what I’ll be thinking about when I cast my vote in this federal election.
What’s the one issue that matters the most to you in this federal election? CBC News will publish a range of perspectives from voters who share the personal experience shaping their choice at the ballot box. Read more First Person columns related to the election here.
