It’s really hot in the Rose Garden and I am standing behind President Obama, trying not to fidget. I don’t know where to look, so I stare at the back of his head. It’s a nice head.

He’s talking about the Affordable Health Care Act, which everyone can start signing up for today, October 1. When I had a job, affordable health care had always seemed like a great and necessary thing to me. I supported it. I voted for it. Now I needed it.

Here’s why.

April 2011, New York

As I came out of the subway, I saw a flurry of texts from my cousins. I was late for a doctor’s appointment, so I decided to call when I got out. In the doctor’s office, I glanced at the buzzing phone in my bag. It was my dad. I took the call. He was in the late stages of cancer, and I was concerned about him.

My dad was in the emergency room, but he was calling about my mom. Speaking carefully, he said, “Your mother has had a stroke. I need you to come home.” My dad always wanted me to come home. But he never needed me to come home. I got on the train.

My mom never recovered from the stroke. She never spoke again, she never hugged again. My dad died ten days later. And after three months in the ICU, my mom died, too.

When I walked out of that doctor’s office in the middle of the appointment, I didn’t think I was leaving my home and my job in New York. But I couldn’t return to them. I didn’t stay in D.C. to take care of all the things kids have to do when their parents die. I stayed because my brother needed help. And there was no one else.

My brother was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 1984. I was diagnosed in 2006. We have different forms of MS, but a huge difference in the symptoms of our disease is the treatments that are available now. I do a monthly infusion (like chemo) that keeps my disease in check. When I don’t do the infusion, the lesions in my brain come back. Lesions lead to problems and eventually to a wheelchair. But for now, the medication works. Simple. Reliable.

And expensive. The infusion costs over $5,000 a month.

May 2013, Washington, D.C.

After I quit my job in NYC, I started looking for work in D.C. doing digital strategy and marketing, but I was not seeing the kind of jobs I wanted. My former position, head of marketing for a blog network, had been my dream job. I wanted my next job to take those skills to an organization that worked for social good. I didn’t want to derail my career because I had put my family first. But I needed health insurance.

As I kept looking, people started to ask me to help them: to get the word out about their startup, or create educational programs for teens at risk, or just explain Twitter. I launched my own consulting business, and when I had too much work, I hired other people to help out. Things were looking up.

But health insurance was still an issue. For me, one of the lessons of my mom’s stroke was that she devoted herself to taking care of everyone else, and her health and wellbeing came after that. I had done that myself. And I was determined not to make that mistake again.

I had maxed out my 18 months of COBRA, which I thought was pricey at over $700 a month, until I started looking for a policy of my own. I was denied coverage by most plans because I had a pre-existing condition. The only one that allowed me to see the doctors who were keeping me miraculously healthy came in at $1,200, which I thought was a typo. With no other options, I signed up. And I thought “Maybe there will be alternatives in 2014.”

October 2013, Washington, D.C.

When I realized I was going to be living in DC, I went on Facebook and friended the friends of people I knew who lived here. I’m sure most of these strangers thought I was spamming them, and I was OK with that. I had left behind my support network in New York and knew I needed to connect with nn MomsRising.org, which does the kind of do-gooder community advocacy work I am interested in. I became a member right away. And when a few months later Gloria asked if anyone was signing up for affordable health care on October 1, I said “Hell yeah!” She sent my story to the White House.

On October 1, I stood behind President Obama, trying not to fidget while he talked about me. Then I walked home and started signing up for health care that would cost $300 instead of $1,200 a month. And I got back to business.

You can reach Amanda at @amandabarrett and AmandaBarrett.com.