The ACA Is Complex, That Much We Know

When I was an undergraduate on the vaunted Medicaid, all I did was call Delcrest for power chair issues. It is much worse now, and I made a terrible mistake leaving Hahnemann Internal for the Ambulatory Practice. Hahnemann was indifferent, but mostly got me through the red tape, barring the extraordinary disaster of 2007. No chair, no attendant, as my molestation the year prior triggered a relapse, and this was when Trudy first had her team attack me, after my injuries sustained during the renovations. After going through hell, she humiliated me, and it was only because I had the money to pay my uncle's mechanics to refurbish the P-200 that I'm still here. The Jazzy is off warranty, and Jefferson treats me as if I was an Alzheimer's patient, as opposed to a quadriplegic; I have neither resources nor stamina to travel the length of the city to get past the gateway to get to the rehab personnel who might or might not keep me aloft. If you want to discuss thin ice, and the fact that I sound exactly like an activist exile, point conceded, but the activists in Philadelphia were the proximate cause of the problems I've faced. Jimmi Shrode whines like a gargantuan toddler that he'll fight all his life for wards in Inglis, those who remain passive, but that his lover's aide harassed me, or that after the violence of Diamond Park, a significant minority of attendants abused me at Riverside, or that this has been a hostile environment since 1994, never mind. I am the bitch, Jimmi is an aging pig bastard who thinks green eye shadow is still a homoerotic subversion. The Bern's charming Pol Pot paradise cleverly evaded my health insurance. I was a full time consultant. Matrix gave me a standard HMO, and now? Cancelling my Medicare may seem like a horrible idea, but what service am I getting? A resident charged me 90 dollars to tell me I wasn't diabetic. I'm hanging by a rather tenuous thread.