YO! I was chopping with my brother a few moons ago. (Translation: I talked with my brother a couple of days ago.) The subject was healthcare. He has it; I don’t. Sure; my family has healthcare, I don’t. Everyday, I do battle with the forces of evil, aka life’s B.S., without medical insurance. See; in his eyes, folks without healthcare aren’t victims of circumstance and he’s sick of the tax consequences. My brother is like a lot of people, unaware or unsympathetic. I’m NOT attempting to convince readers of anything. I’m just sharing a story.
In reality, having no healthcare isn’t a life of monthly emergency medical visits at the cost of taxpayers. We KNOW we ain’t got healthcare and none of us have time to be begging/arguing/fighting/praying that some hospital or doc will work with us unless it’s the most dire situation. Honestly! We. Do. Not. Nope and naw. In reality, having no healthcare is a tragic game of fear and pain. I’m terrified of getting sick because it hurts to avoid my own sick children or wife. Yup, I said it. I’m terrified of getting sick because it hurts to avoid my own sick children and/or wife. It wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always a scary Dad running from fevers and snot. Before those late 2016 diagnoses, I was the Dad who always picked up sick kids from school, took off work for dr. visits, stayed home to medicate them while playing videogames, watching movies and eating ice cream. HELL, I HAD HEALTHCARE! Now? I strategically place myself on the opposite floor of sick family members. This is the truth behind no healthcare. I’ve done quite well myself, 0 dr. visits in 13mo, but I shouldn’t help with anybody else either. That is the pain. It hurts. It hurts something awful and it gets on my head.