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John,
My daughter, Shalynne, was a force of nature.
She was funny. She was smart. She was a go-getter, a hustler, filled with ambition, and excited to achieve her dream of becoming a nurse. My daughter had her entire life ahead of her.
But then in June of 2015, she was taken from us— needlessly .
She was in the process of moving home from Kansas City to finish her schooling. Following the 22-hour drive to Las Vegas, Shalynne started experiencing excessive swelling, redness, and pain in her leg, so she went to our local ER here in Las Vegas.
My daughter was Black, she was on birth control, she had sickle cell trait, and she had recently injured her ACL before making that long drive—all risk factors for a blood clot. But when she presented with her painfully swollen leg, none of that mattered. With one simple question, her fate was sealed.
They asked her, “Do you have insurance?”
Shalynne was crying out in pain, pleading with them to perform the appropriate medical screening she had come in for. Instead of performing an appropriate medical screening, they denied the tests and relief she pleaded for. She reported to them an 8 out of 10 on the pain scale, but they wouldn’t even give her a Tylenol.
They simply told her, “Go get insurance and see a specialist. We’re not a doctor’s office.”
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The call came at 4am in the morning. It was her father, Roscoe. Shalynne was flying back to Kansas City to finalize her move, and while in the air, the blood clot in her leg dislodged. Roscoe kept repeating through tears, “Shalynne’s coding. She’s coding.”” I’ll never forget the fear and devastation in his voice. He didn’t know if she was even alive at this point. I didn’t even know what “coding” meant, but we soon found out.
Shalynne was having a massive pulmonary embolism, and we had to leave for Kansas City immediately.
The first thing that hit me when I walked into her hospital room was the overpowering smell of blood. My little girl was hemorrhaging. It was too late. By the time I got there, Shalynne was already brain-dead. Her major organs couldn’t even be donated.
I was there with her through the end when the doctors removed the breathing tube. I couldn’t let my daughter die alone.
For 30 minutes, I held Shalynne and sang the songs I used to sing to her as a baby. I let her know we were there with her, and as took her last breath, I made her a promise.
I told her, “You will not have died in vain.”
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My daughter died needlessly, and she spent her last conscious moments on this earth alone, afraid, and in agonizing pain in the back of an ambulance. All because she could not provide adequate proof of insurance at the Emergency Room in Las Vegas.
At first I struggled to make sense of her death. I would think to myself, “how could this have happened?” I didn’t know right away how I would ever be able to make good on my promise to her, but soon the pieces started to fall into place. I soon realized that Shalynne’s death wasn’t just a one off tragedy; that tens of thousands of people die needlessly every year—just like my daughter did—entirely due to a lack of health insurance.
When the scale of this systemic injustice became clear to me, I knew what I had to do to prevent Shalynne from simply becoming another statistic. Since then, I have woken up every single day with a mission: fight with every fiber of my being for justice. And not just justice for Shalynne; not just healthcare justice, justice for all.
I know I can’t save my daughter, but I am determined to do everything in my power to save those we still can so that, one day soon, no one in the United States will die needless, preventable deaths.
And I do that everyday for Shalynne. In Shalynne’s name. For her legacy.
From ending the profit-motive and greed in our healthcare system to dismantling systemic racism and the deadly consequences we see from it everyday; from fighting the climate crisis and building a sustainable future for our children and grandchildren to fighting tooth and nail to finally deliver comprehensive immigration justice and a pathway to citizenship, we have so much work to do to achieve true justice for all.
I’ll never be the same Amy I was before I lost Shalynne. Her death at the hands of our broken, profit-driven healthcare system opened my eyes. It showed me how all of our struggles are intertwined. It reminded me that we are all only as safe as the most vulnerable among us. It keeps me going day in and day out, knowing that until we achieve justice for everyone, we won’t have justice for anyone.
Now that my eyes are open, I can never close them.
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The grief of losing my daughter will never go away, and Shalynne will always be my “why.” She’s why I do what I do everyday. She’s the reason I’m running for Congress. And when I ask for your support, it’s not for me. It’s for all the countless people who have died, needlessly. And for their families and loved ones whose lives have been upended by preventable tragedy and loss. It’s for all those out there who we still can save, together.
It’s for Shalynne.
And so today, John, I’m asking for your financial support. For Shalynne. [[link removed]]
Thank you for fighting alongside me,
Amy Vilela
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Amy Vilela is running for Congress because—from COVID to climate change—the political status quo is not doing enough to provide for those with the least. It’s time for political leaders who will fight like lives depend on it, because they do. Amy knows that. She’s running because Nevadans deserve more.
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Amy Vilela for Congress
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Las Vegas, NV 89112
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