Around the end of December, I began writing a “poem”, a farewell to 2021. But as so often happens, I went astray onto a different topic and then I abandoned it in favour of feeding cats, or some such excuse.
It’s still not finished and it will never qualify as a poem.
But I’m working on it.
Meantime, should I fall back on my ridiculous non-poem about Rupert, the castle mouse?
Methinks I’ll hold that back for a day when I’m desperate. Though when I’m desperate I usually refrain from posting at all.
Once, in my younger days, I compiled one or two very rude “poems” for a naughty gentleman with whom I was acquainted.
But I don’t want to get banned from Word Press.
It was all quite innocent, in fact. But now there’s this thing called Political Correctness.
It has it’s place, but I think it is carried over-far.
So anyway…at the end of December I was celebrating the fact that I would shortly emerge from Medicare’s “donut hole”. It’s that bottomless pit you fall in financially when Medicare has paid out a certain (insufficient) amount toward your prescriptions.
At this point you either do without your medication or you shell out a lot of money.
There is an upper amount at which you rise from within the dreaded hole and thereafter, Medicare pays for everything, but it’s carefully timed to coincide with the last day of December when you start fresh.
Somehow I had forgotten what lurks at the beginning of a New Year: deductibles. Varying amounts that you must pay before your insurance kicks in.
It’s a never-ending game you cannot win.
Maybe it was my two hospital episodes last year, or maybe it’s the seemingly pointless quest for pain relief that has irritated me so.
It may be ungrateful of me, considering that twice, without the care of that hospital, I could have died.
How could I possibly complain?
Disorganization and incompetence offend me. Especially when it’s deliberate and designed to enrich particular people at the expense of others.
Injustice offends me.
Sadly, it’s the way of our world. I am one of the lucky ones but I reserve the right to be angry on behalf of those who are less fortunate.
This is what happens when I decide it’s time to write about something other than cats or clouds or chilly weather!
Perhaps I’d better have another look at Rupert…