I am currently sobbing my head off and bawling my eyes out. Loudly, like Bambi’s mom just got capped.
What’s the use of health insurance if I get a bill for $1680, fair and square, when I’ve been in the hospital for four days? I am so angry. The hospital wouldn’t let me go! I felt fine, and they wouldn’t let me go. They kept me on and on and on, costing me more and more money out of my own threadbare, holey pocket. Fuckers.
I’m really mad at my doctor again, too. She made a call from her office, but she either didn’t ask the right question, or she lied to me. I said I would only go if I were completely covered, and she said I would be. This was not so.
I know what I’ll be told. “But you got the help there you needed.”
But they didn’t do anything there to me! They just took me off my pills! Which I could have done myself! Other than that, they mocked me, threatened me, tried to put me on the wrong medication, kept trying to give me the wrong doses, put me with unsafe people, and generally made me miserable. They couldn’t understand why my blood pressure was so abnormally high, and why I was crying. Because I am in the mental hospital, you fucks. Because I am in prison.
And now I have to pay for it? Jesus. I am already on a money diet. See, I was on disability for 17 days, and you only get 2/3 of your income. I didn’t see this money until about a week ago. (Well, I know where this is going now, I guess. Fuck.) Plus I was sick a lot in December, and there were holidays, so I didn’t get paid a lot.
I’m never, ever going to be able to move.
I need to calm down. It’s really okay. It’s really, really okay.
It’s only money. It’s only money. It’s only money.
But it’s a lot of fucking money, man. It’s a lot fucking money.