I’m sitting in the waiting room of the outpatient surgery center in the local teaching hospital, waiting for a friend of mine to come out of minor surgery, wondering how in the hell the Republican Party thinks that they can make hay out of the inevitable bobbles and screw ups that are going to accompany Obamacare, a program that exists in the context of the delivery of medical care. How the hell do they think those fuck-ups will distinguish themselves in an experience that seems to consist entirely of mistakes, waiting, misdirection, arbitrary stupidity, more waiting, humorless colorectal surgeons (how the fuck can you stare up assholes all day without the ability to laugh and not want to swallow a bullet at the end of the week?), gowns that don’t cover anyone’s ass, the same question being asked 14 times, rooms that are kept at meatlocker temperature, the slow and broken elevators, ugly stained furniture, dirt collected in every corner (hospitals are the dirtiest places on earth), tears, frustration, fear, anger, shit, puke and urine?
Obamacare is going to be the bright and shining star in this experience. There have to be at least a few people sitting in this room with me sweating the possibility that this trip will lead to bankruptcy. A year from now, all they’ll be sweating is whether they’re going to contract MRSA.