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Where’s Mine?

Well, of course.

I mean, did anybody really think these teabagging excuses for human beings meant they should get sick and be unable to see a doctor because of some horrifying combo of “you’re between plans right now” and “that isn’t covered” and “your princess is in another castle” and whatnot?

Granted, they usually don’t just come right out and say it. It’s implied, the whole “I got mine, so screw your poor self” thing. It’s implied by how rich and white they are and generally how smug.

According to an unnamed congressional staffer quoted by Thrush, Harris stood up at the meeting “and asked the two ladies who were answering questions why it had to take so long, what he would do without 28 days of health care.”

Well, to quote Alan Grayson who I already miss, what you’re gonna do is not get sick. If you do get sick, die quickly.

That is the plan you want for everybody else, after all. You want the rest of us out here to just sit around and pray daily that everything stays okay, that nothing starts to twist or ache, that nothing already wrong gets worse or changes, that all the medications keep working, that they stay the same price, that the doctors don’t move or quit or go on leave, that that one person in the insurance office who actually understands what we’re talking about is the one the phone system shunts us over to, that the insurance doesn’t get more expensive, that the job holds out until another one comes along, that we can patchwork together something if it doesn’t, some hideously expensive combo of state buy-in programs or private individual if-I-get-hit-by-a-bus go-on-bone-me-I-like-it $5,000 plans.

That we can survive, scraping by, scared all the time. That we can manage for a while. That’s what you’re supposed to do without health care for a month, for the pathetic 28 days until my tax dollars keep you in meds and meals.

You’re supposed to do exactly what you want the rest of us to do. Suck it up, and suffer.

A.

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