Town groups are great, aren’t they? They’re little digital town squares where you can gather with your neighbors and that inevitable handful of people that moved away ages ago and failed to make any friends in their new communities to discuss important topics like the best place to get breakfast in town, school events, and recycling cans. You can commiserate with others about how great your shitty town used to be before it became overrun with those goddamn shitty kids, gripe about the way the town plows the roads and collects the garbage, and announce the weather to hundred or thousands of other people who live within a 15 mile radius of you and already fucking know, because windows, Karen. Or, you can be like Susan here, and use this little digital corner full of chatty locals to take a break from talking to your cats to share a complaint-filled story that is completely and utterly implausible to the rational mind:
Definitely happened. Does this look like the face of a woman who would use the internet to malinger and complain for a little bit of attention and sympathy to you?
So we’re all to believe that this lady spends an entire weekend in the hospital, just to be shoo’d out the door on the brink of death, because her insurance sucks? That’s not how this works, that’s not how any of this works. It’s an emergency room, Susan, not club med. They’re not throwing out poor people like it’s some sort of dreary Dickens novel to make way for Richie Rich to jump in to his luxury zero thread count paper Johnnie and kick his skid-proof sock clad feet up in the hospital bed you inexplicably have made long term plans with. Yes, they most definitely intended to get you out of that bed to put someone else in it. Undeniable. Someone with an acute medical issue, specifically, because that’s what hospitals stays are for. Sorry your potassium levels are low, Susan. Take a multi vitamin, eat a banana, and call your PCP.
Despite this obvious lunacy, Susan did indeed find her intended audience, and the horror stories started rolling in:
So, pretty much, Sturdy Hospital is a death camp for the poor. Seems legit. And Susan our tragic heroine Susan is out here, in dire condition, about to lose consciousness and/or starve to death at any moment – but not before responding to every single comment on her bullshit post with a million excuses for why she can’t possibly take basic steps to care for her own health and is currently passing out from low potassium – but not before hitting up Facebook!
And a “thank you” to every gullible moron who took her clearly imaginary plight seriously enough to offer up their terrible suggestions.
But don’t get it twisted, Susan really appreciates nurses.
Just not that awful wench Winnie who ruined her weekend vacation plans to stay laid up with a call button handy in the Center of Attentionville. Don’t worry about the rest of the story – Susan is far too fatigued to get into it here. We’ll just stick with the part where she got tossed out like yesterday’s garbage because she doesn’t own a private yacht. No context, or logic, necessary.
In the least shocking turn of events imaginable, turns out Susan’s cat Lucifer has had his own brush with death that required the expertise of the Everything Attleboro forum as well.
Go figure. He turned out ok, though – it was just an allergic reaction or something, and certainly not a byproduct of being the responsibility of a woman who can’t even navigate her way through the vitamin section of CVS without a full team of medical professionals and a pair of slip-proof slipper socks.
Thots and shares, Susan.