Uh, Michael Moore, Uh, Wants To Hear, Uh, Like, Uh, About Your, Uh, Problems Getting, Uh, Health Care

Dear Mr. Moore,

Three years ago I got my balls caught in my bike chain at an antiwar rally, and my subsequent health care experience was horrible right from beginning to end. To start, the paramedics were completely unprofessional. It took fifteen minutes to convince them that I wasn't a woman having my period. No matter how many times I told them that there's no law against men being members of Code Pink, they just kept trying to give me tampons and leaving to go help the people in the SUV we'd set on fire.

They finally agreed to take me to the hospital after my friends threatened to tip over the ambulance, but even this was a mixed blessing. First, they wouldn't let me take my bike with me, giving me some bullshit line about not wanting to get grease and Ron Paul leaflets on their sterilized equipment. I told them that they could have my vintage Schwinn when they pried it from my cold, dead hands, and then my buddies started rocking the van back and forth again (thanks girls!), and they finally gave in. Also, I'm pretty sure I heard the driver mutter something under his breath about how the Hippocratic Oath wasn't all it's cracked up to be. I didn't know what he was talking about, but I didn't like his tone, so when they weren't looking I emptied out two of the medkits and replaced the contents with Barack Obama campaign literature.

I'd told the girls to follow us to the hospital to make sure they didn't try to dick me over, but their Volvo got pulled over along the way for following the ambulance through a red light, so I made the paramedics wait outside the ER entrance until they showed up. For some reason they got all pissy when I told them that they shouldn't leave the engine idling because of global warming, and they said that either they could take me in now or leave me on the gurney to be robbed and sodomized by the junkies from the methadone clinic next door. Grudgingly, I gave in, but made sure to get both their names so I could file a complaint. Also, I think I'm going to send their name to DailyKos and have him out them as homosexuals if they ever run for office.

The waiting room was a nightmare. The guy behind the desk was a total Republican who wanted me to fill out a bunch of forms and stuff rather than get me a doctor. I told him that Abraham Lincoln didn't write the Constitution to allow corporate shills like him to make me fill out paperwork myself, and that my insurance card obligated him to treat me. Then I shoved it right in front of his face to ram the point home.

"Oh no", he said. "That's a problem. Aetna only covers getting your junk caught in a Huffy, not a Schwinn." I couldn't believe my ears. Fucking fine print! I seriously thought about trying to get the other people in there to stage a sit-in with me, but they were all too lazy to start working for social justice instead of bleeding.

Anyway, long story short, I ended up having to pay for the cost of the treatment (goodbye Melissa Etheridge tickets) and for part of my prescription (what the hell is a "co-pay"? Do they just make this shit up?).

I wonder if this is how Nelson Mandela felt.

posted by AndrewR at 11:58 PM

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