WANTED: babysitter for racist elderly baby
LOCATION: Washington, DC with occasional stops at Florida estate.
PAY: Not enough in the universe
Here he is, the racist baby you’ll be in charge of.
I’m sorry. I’m in a real low mood right now. There’s a walking brace on my left foot to protect my fractured ankle and it takes a lot of effort to put the bastard on. It’s snowing outside so my long fight to put on the boot has been for naught. I wouldn’t even dare walk next door to see my mother. It’s too dangerous for lil’ ol Fragile Bones here. My internet connection craps out at odd times and I’m beginning to think that the weather is responsible.
You’ll have to excuse me if my nerves are a little raw at the moment. The bile that comes out of the White House on a near-daily basis makes me ill with anger. I’m sickened by what is going on in my state capital of Frankfort with the Republican attempts to turn our state into a smoky black cinder.
The Trump administration just allowed Kentucky to take steps to terminate our Medicaid expansion. Kentucky is the first state in the country to “apply work requirements to Medicaid recipients”, per the articles.
It’s a terrible idea and one that I protested against in the summer of 2016. I went to a policy meeting in Bowling Green and NOBODY spoke out in support of this waiver. Dozens of people stood up and spoke to the state representatives and voiced their disapproval along with the very sound reasons why it was an illogical piece of hogwash.
Nobody supported this except for Matt Bevin and his entourage and whoever is backing them. That’s why 2016 meant so much to me. Because I figured that the Clinton administration would likely not allow such a waiver.
I’m worn down. My body is broken. Our racist baby king has deemed Haiti a shithole but Kentucky is as close to Haiti as any state in the union and about to get worse. I’m afraid and self-care isn’t enough right now. But that’s all I have. I have to get better. I have to heal my fractured ankle. I have to lose weight. I have to get my strength up.
In the pre-dawn hours after I cracked my ankle I tried to get off the couch to go to bed and I couldn’t. My foot, ankle and knee were in too much pain to get me up and about. Without a protective brace, I was stuck. Unable to do anything else, I flopped to the floor and crawled to my room. It took at least twenty minutes of sweat and exhaustion to haul my carcass in and hoist myself up to bed, a distance of about twenty feet.
I was helpless and naked. Nobody could help me in the dark of night. I didn’t even have the strength to cry.
I have a walking brace on my foot as I write this. I’m sitting on the couch again for the first time since that exhausting night. It takes some effort to get up but I don’t have to crawl.
If not for Medicaid and Medicare would I even have a walking brace? I have a laundry list of ailments. Would I be able to treat my diabetes, my sleep apnea, my depression, my anxiety, my bi-polar disorder, my PTSD? Would I be able to go to therapy?
Would I even be alive?
Why are they trying to take that from me?