Thats interesting.
First off, ty Smokestack for the encouragement. Have you understand that all things have a beginning and a ending. I intend to go out by way of Wolf Creek Pass on four feet of icy snow on chain in a white out hauling a trailer load of cider. By the time I reach Heaven that Cider would have turned into good medicine during that big trip to come. Yeehaw.
What I refuse to do is be a cash cow for insurance. Constantly going round and round to doctors, gobbling up wonder medicines and indulging the imaging and all that crap. They did a simple Sonogram a few nights ago in front of me. When I saw the dots in the liver I knew I just got walked on by the grave which is there for me. Doctor turned white. Sit for a minute and then says, I need to go see a bigger doc upstairs. He was gone two hours. Came back and I asked him what was it. He gave me a big fat Roman Thumbs down. Well. 10 dollars in the pocket, smokes in the sleeve, fueled up and on the way westbound and up. Off we go.
As far as changing doctors, the merry go around musical chairs has started. In my area my doctors sit waiting for people to come in. Those few who do are half dead. Grey with cancers that will kill them or bowed under the weight of their pains of stuff that no Doctor on earth can fix. And then be buried in billing. Increasing in intensity until they die.
My last one had three ambulance calls in I think 20 hours before she died. Since she was already in at home Hospice there was nothing for the Ambulance to do. Even if they took her the ER cannot do very much. Maybe hold her hand or something with a young RN straight from school or something. It was just going to stack more billing that may never be repaid. So the ambulance outside of the house quiet with no lights tells me that is a death house now. Shortly after the Coroners Van shows up.
We are going to have a awful lot of people dead without doing anything and they will decompose for weeks before someone came around. Because they are alone.
Do not be that person. If you are, you still have time to fix it.
And the bastards in the great trucking company dispatch? They can nail that big sunday morning paycheck to the ceiling for me to get above the time clock and whatever I owe the outfit to the floor below it. The devil can have it all.