Re: Poverty a subject

Posted by Amaranth Rose on Jan 29, 2004 at 19:42

Re: Poverty a subject (Kelly)

Where else would I speak from but "personal experience"? Does a person who walks into a building drenched from a rainstorm drip on the ceiling?

It worries me that I have been subjected to such bureaucratic idiocy and governmental insanity that I find myself driven to inspect the situation from that perspective in such a detailed and dispassionate manner.

Writing is virtually the only pleasure I have left in life at this point. If that is taken from me because some bureaucrat who barely passed high school Biology and understands nothing of Biochemistry and genetic variance decides that the state will pay for drug A, which is resulting in a steady exacerbation of the inflammative state at the cause of my particular case of polyarthritis, and not for drug B, which will ameliorate it but which the state deems "too expensive" for it to pay for, it would seem natural to take the exit. We put animals out of their misery when they can't hobble to their food bowl and yelp with pain when they are touched. If my hands and feet were to suddenly drop off or be severed in some industrial accident, there would be a much different reaction. Heck, they'd probably even give me medicine for the pain. But when one observes one's self gradually losing the ability to tie one's shoes, to fasten a button, turn a doorknob, turn on the stove burner, stir a pot, turn a screwdriver, pull a wine cork, or open a childproof medicine container, or bend a limb without severe pain, one begins to question the rationality of it all. When one is flying solo, the nets are smaller and the falls much harder.

Where is the point of bearing the whips and scorns of time, the pangs of despised love, the the proud man's contumely, the insolence of office, the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes, until one can no longer make one's one quietus by any means? I have no desire to end my days an inmate in a warehouse for the dying, my nostrils clogged with the acrid stench of cold, stale urine and other wastes and antiseptic mingled with the coy, cloying stench of chemicals intended to "refresh" which I find only nauseating and allergenic. I have no desire to be reduced to a pathetic creature searching hopelessly for the sight of a sympathetic or familiar face, clinging desperately to the hand of any visitor that happens to find the time to make their way to my domain. I have seen the end of life for others in this country; I want no part of it. I pray, with every fiber of my being, that I have the good sense and fortitude to pull the trigger before I am so disabled I no longer can. Those who know me will understand, and those who don't understand don't know me. And if you must assess blame, start at the Nebraska Statehouse, with the Medicaid offices, and ask them why they kill people with pain a millimeter at a time by withholding necessary, effective and appropriate treatment instead of euthanizing them.

I'd bet you they don't have an answer, but I might not be around to collect.

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