Monthly Archives: February 2017

Doctor In The House.

As you will no doubt be aware, the Fucktard in Chief has been  spewing crap about the Affordable Care Act, and how he is going to replace it, and in fact, has a plan that is almost ready, (Not!). What really cracked my up was his comment about reforming healthcare – “Who knew it would be so difficult?” Well, just about anyone with a sixth grade education.  I’m covered by the ACA, and have been for a couple of years. It’s worked pretty well for me, in that my prescriptions and office visits were free. I hardly ever need to see the doctor, and the only time I’ve needed medical care in the last 12 months was last autumn when I found myself one Saturday afternoon shivering like a bowl of jelly in an earthquake and freezing under several layers with a temperature of 104.5F – the result of a bladder infection.

Alas, when it came to renewal time,  my policy was not one of the options, so I was forced to find a new one. The choices were not fantastic, and due to my straitened circumstances I was forced to pick the plan with the lowest monthly payment, there being no option that was fully funded. I signed up and waited for my card and confirmation which duly arrived in the goodness of time. So far, so good, you may say,  but hold on a minute.

I have a couple of daily medications that make it possible for me to function as a human being. Those who knew the un-medicated SingleDad will tell you that I was not a pleasant person to be around. Okay, so I’m not very pleasant to be around when properly medicated, but at least when experiencing better living through chemistry, I am someone around whom it is possible to be. I refilled my meds late last year and received a 90 day supply of each for a total cost of bubkas. Zilch. Costenlos. Free. Nice, eh? Especially as I was used to only getting a 30 day supply with  each renewal.

About two weeks ago I walked up to the clinic to update my details and was told that as my doctor was not part of the network, he was not a preferred provider, so although I could see him, it would cost me more than seeing an in-network doctor. Ugh. The thing is, I like my doctor. He’s a thoroughly nice chap,  knows his stuff and is always willing to hear me out, respond to questions and provide useful advice, so I saw no need to go physician hunting after having him as my M.D. for  over a decade. I also asked the receptionist to pass on the message that I needed a refill on my meds, and she duly made a note and a few days later I received an automated message from the pharmacy informing me that my refills were ready for pickup.

I walked up there a couple of days later, and  was told by the 12 year old assistant that with my insurance, the cost for a 30 day supply of both meds was $64. Let me repeat that: $64 WITH MY INSURANCE. I would say that this put me in a bind, but that would be a complete and utter lie, as due to my finances, $54 a month is well beyond my means, so I told her I couldn’t afford them and left. Well, that’s not entirely the truth. You see, I could have afforded them had I selected one of the following options:

  1. Not pay my electricity bill
  2. Not pay my phone bill
  3. Not pay my internet bill
  4. Not buy any food for the kids.

I already don’t  buy food for myself except for essentials, so that last one isn’t me being mean. Which option would you have chosen? Please send your answer with an explanation not exceeding 100 words on the back of a $20 bill to…No, hang on, better make that the back of a blank cheque.

So, I’m fucked. And when I say fucked, I mean fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked. I do have a small secret stash, the result of having to stockpile a couple of years ago in anticipation of my ex cutting me from her insurance, but that won’t last forever. Thankfully, one of my meds is in traditional pill form, so I have been able to split them, allowing me to take half a pill every other day. “Yikes”, I hear you say, but seeing as I started out on 1/3 of my current dose,  and the effect was like flicking a switch, and the pills are extended release, I should be fine for a while. My other medication is in capsule form, so I will leave them until the pills run out and then take one every other day. On this schedule I reckon I have enough to last a couple of  months, although I have some trepidation about lowering my dose to essentially 1/8 of my required regime.

It’s not a pretty thought, but I have to make them last as long as possible. I did have an online interview last week, but seeing as I was told they would be making a decision some time early this week and I have yet to hear from them, I can pretty much guarantee that they won’t be offering me the job, but that’s a subject for a different pity party.

It will be interesting, in a morbid sort of way, to see which runs out first – the money or the meds. To be honest, I’m trying very hard not to think about it, for obvious reasons, but as you can imagine, both subjects are looming large, no matter what I do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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(WE DON’T NEED THIS) FASCIST GROOVE THANG.

Well, that didn’t take long, did it? Normally, one would expect a new head of state to spend a couple of weeks coming to terms with the position, perhaps give the tyres a kick, adjust the seat and the mirrors and then take a short drive around the block, but no! It would appear that Der  Trumpfer jumped straight into the drivers’ seat, slammed the accelerator to the floor and set off on what appears to be a reenactment of the goriest bits of “Deathrace 2000.” I thought, presumably like a lot of other right minded people, that a lot of his blather on the campaign trail was simply red meat thrown to the mob, but it appears that he actually meant what he said. Who’d a thunk it?

Thankfully, those  who don’t watch Fox “news” had an instant Howard Beale moment and made sure everyone knew about it. It was gratifying to see that the attendance at the Women’s March in D.C. exceeded by a considerable amount the attendance at the inauguration, and at so many other marches not only around the U.S, but all over the world. Of course,  baby threw a tantrum when the U.S. Parks Department posted a picture of 45’s inauguration crowd alongside that of President Obama’s first inauguration. No one in their right mind would have believed that more people came to see the Oompa Loompa sworn in than any of the previous 44  presidents, but to ban the parks department from publishing anything in public.?It’s the typical reaction of a spoilt brat who  is caught out, and then resorts to red-faced hysteria in an attempt to blame others for his lies.

Don’t you think it interesting that the nylon haired one is so obsessed with size? Be it walls, crowds, ties, aircraft or  whatever, he always claims that his is bigger than anyone else’s. I wonder if he is trying to compensate for some kind of inadequacy or trying to deflect attention away from something of which he is ashamed or embarrassed. Oh, I see my error. He doesn’t experience shame or embarrassment, only anger, contempt, pride, smugness and hubris. I mean, don’t his staff have access to Photoshop? Even Stalin had a team dedicated to altering photographs. My favourite has to be that of Stalin winning the 100 metres gold medal in the 1936 Olympics. It’s the best retouching job the KGB ever did.  (Apologies to Alexei Sayle).

Of course, that was just the appetiser. The main course was right behind it, and oh, wasn’t it the most incredible, enormous shit sandwich you’ve ever seen? I’m talking of course, about the (absolutely not a) Muslim ban ( honestly). I mean, did he really think, even for a minute, that he would get away with it? Not go all Bill Hicks on you, but the balls on that guy! He must have to wear specially fitted trousers with balls that big. Does he have to use a wheelbarrow to carry around those enormous balls?

Of course, the outrage  was instantaneous. I heard that one placard being held outside JFK airport read” “First they came for the Muslims, and I said “Oh no you don’t motherfucker!”” Pastor Martin Niemoller must be very proud of that person. And the owners of art and office supply stores must be very happy. Have you tried to buy poster board, wide tipped Sharpies or any kind of paint recently? Had I the money, I’d be buying stock in Office Depot and Michaels.  A blind man on a speeding horse could see the unconstitutionality of the ban, yet as soon as Judge James Robart, a Bush 43 appointee, no less, struck down the ban, the tiny fingered one denigrated him. But then again, that’s nothing new, just ask Judge Gonzalo Curiel.

Trying to deflect blame for any future event is also straight from the Despots’ Handbook, as is singling out a specific religious group,  threatening the press and surrounding oneself with ideologues who lack basic competence. Rather than draining the swamp, as he claimed, he is filling it with the most revolting, foul slime imaginable.

It would not surprise me if he were to find an excuse to impose martial law and put troops on the street. Seriously, he has no concept of self control or that he is doing anything untoward. I think he genuinely believes his  own publicity and that this is his destiny.  No one has ever said “no” to him, hence his apoplectic responses to anyone or anything that doesn’t go his way. I’m genuinely concerned for the future of this county. I don’t think we can afford to wait two years until the mid-term elections to try to redress the balance. One of my biggest fears is that Bannon et al see him as a useful puppet and are planning to have him impeached or resign and then have Pence replace him as president, with Bannon as Veep. I know this all sounds like a whacko conspiracy theory, but if  the alternative is that he is doing all this himself, then what?

He’s already questioned the legitimacy of the judicial and legislative branches and is issuing edicts at a rate that would make Kim Jong Un jealous, and I wouldn’t put it past him to give himself even more control. To quote Abraham Lincoln, who must now be spinning in his grave at the thought of those grubby, tiny digits on his bible, once said, “Any man can handle adversity. If you want to see his true character, give him power”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?

I’m now entering what Sir Alex Ferguson, one time manager of Manchester United Football Club once famously described as “Squeaky bum time”. You see, ever since early February, when my hours were cut in half, I’ve been living on borrowed financial time. When working 40 hours a week I was earning enough to cover my bills and leave a bit over, sometimes, at the end of the month. Not so now. I did a quick calculation and as things stand at present, I will have to move out at the end of April.

I’m applying for jobs like crazy to no avail, I’ve sold my wedding and eternity rings, cashed in all my change and cut my spending to a bare minimum. I’m living off what I have in the fridge and pantry and with the exception of essentials, only  buy food for the kids. All this is not really going to help, but what are my options? I will have to find some way of paying for a storage unit and keeping gas in the car, but how long can I keep that up? My job contract runs through August, but if I’m living in the car – which is a very real possibility – how long can I keep it? If I lose the job, the situation becomes exponentially worse, and I don’t see someone like me lasting long on the streets.

I’m 52 and in fairly reasonable health, but without my meds, I’m sure to go into a tailspin. Those of you who knew me at school will attest to the fact that the un-medicated NWSD is not the kind of person who can cope, even when well fed and housed.To make matters worse, it means that I will lose contact with the kids. I can’t spend time with them if all I have is the car and nowhere to take them. I won’t have access to laundry or washing facilities, and having worked downtown, I know how quickly people deteriorate without access to basic services.

Unless I can find a job by the end of March, I am royally fucked. Seriously, this is an existential crisis that shows no sign of resolving itself in any kind of positive way. I don’t have a social network on which I can fall back, and I’m by no means certain that my sweetie will be willing to take me in until I can get a decent paying job and get a place of my own again. I would hope that she would, but if she took me in and I didn’t find a job before the money ran out, there’s no way she could support both of us on her wages.

Just writing this is making me depressed, so I am going to sign off now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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