🎶 Hark! Disabled Nation Sing
The Never-Ending Holidaaaaaaay...
For those who have ever gone through a Holiday Hell, you know full well that it doesn’t end on January 2. Noooo-no! This is a full-blown holiday emergency here. We’re gonna press on into January, and we’re gonna have the hap-hap-happiest holiday season since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny Fuckin’ Kay. So don’t piss me off, Art. Because how can things get any worse?
Oh. Right.
Take your ability to put food on the table, put a roof over your head, heat what’s under that roof in winter, pipe in water you can drink, pipe out water to sweep away your Number 1 & 2-doo so y’all don’t get dysentery, and put it into the hands of government agencies who promised you that they would help you when things like drunk drivers and face-punching dudes sent your life careening across the frozen blacktop.
As anyone who has ever been fortunate enough to receive such help knows, ohhhhh, they make you pay for it.
So take a look around you, Ellen. We’re at the threshold of Hell!
You can always tell when I’m having trouble neurologically. When my broken frontal lobe and left hemisphere start failing, all my communications start to come out in right-brain rhythm and rhyme. I wrote this one while getting my ass kicked by three government agencies simultaneously back in November.
At that point, it had been nine months straight of doing mountains of paperwork (sometimes for the third or fourth reiteration) and never-ending hours being forced to speak on the phone (where I can’t read lips) about intricate financial, medical, and historical details—which the double-talking, verbally acrobatic agent refused to provide in writing for those of us with audio processing damage, and for those of us who will not verbally and legally commit to any agreements without reading them with fine-tooth combs and possibly going over them with a lawyer.
But swift-talking, withholding, fact-twisting G-men apparently don’t have to provide these things in writing.
Be-because.
They don’t.
Seeing as how all these tasks are things I had been medically removed from doing back in 2001 when I’d only had one TBI, and seeing as how in the middle of all that, my primary caregiver and paperwork wrangler had a stroke (coincidence?), these battles sent me into all those seizures, migraines, meltdowns, blackouts, limb collapses, and ultimately landed me in the emergency room for a CT scan.
Still don’t quite know what’s up yet because I still haven’t been able to schedule the MRI and EEG that my FIRST NEUROLOGIST EVER (WOOT!) ordered just before Christmas.
Why?
You know why.
Oh. You’re new around here? It’s called Holiday Hell—the phenomenon which occurs when one experiences a traumatic catastrophe just as the world shuts down for the holiday season. Then life, along with your much-needed help, really only resumes around the second or third week of January.
For your singalong filking pleasure:
HARK! (Disabled Nation Sing)
Hark! Tinitus ringy-di-ing!
And my torn-up muscles sing
All my spasms now are riled
Vision won’t be reconciled
Painful levels on the rise
I am about to capsize
All the stabby knives proclaim:
“Lovely spine—I will now maim!”
Hark! Tinitus ringy-ding!
And my torn-up muscles sing
(🤘😈🤘 Headbanger’s Ball, baybee!)
Curse the Hell-born Thief of Peace!
Curse the Son of Viciousness!
Paperwork and all the things
Risen G-Man: Hell on wings
✊ DHS and SSI! ✊
✊ Medicaid! SSDI! ✊
Born to wreak Hell on the earth
For those with no financial worth
Dis! Ability doth reign
🙏 Good luck ever keeping sane. 😇
“NAY!” the agents now do sing
Your collapse they now do bring
Hell on earth, TBI “mild”
Thus your bank’s not reconciled
Ye Disabled Nation rise!
Thrust your fist into the skies!
With your loudest voice proclaim
“You will not fuck us agai—”
(hahahah…that’s a good one.)
Hark! Disabled Nation sing:
“Watch my birds take mighty wing!”
Flip your birrrrrrds!
Let them…taaaake…wiiiiing!
© 2024 Hartebeast
UP NEXT: I have no clue how 2001 started. I don’t remember it.
Holiday Hell: Days 12 - 17
✨ Holiday Hell: Days 12 - 13 ✨ January 1 - 2, 2001 28 years old …For the last part of the New Year’s show and the entire time while the band packed up, I crashed out, burrowed underneath the nest of fur and leather coats that the Band Babes had made for me in the farthest corner of the ballroom.
THE OTHER FILKING CAROLS:
🎶 The Most Blunderful Time of the Year (an ode to holiday season drunk drivers)
THIS SERIES STARTS HERE:
BLAM.
If Only. If only I wasn’t such a social butterfly, a hostess-with-the-mostess, a proud, doting teacher—I would have made it to the back room and had my costumes packed before ten o’clock after our holiday dance recital. If only I had let someone else drive a friend home after her truck broke down, I would have made it to Walmart twenty minutes earlier.
The Threshold of Holiday Hell - from my family’s favorite holiday movie ever.
Dis! - One of the gazillion epitaphs for Hades - who I tend to write about just a little bit:
Things will work out.....frustrating but it will work out
I feel for you, Alexx this whole situation your in sounds horrible. But I do think it’s wonderful that you are able to vent some of your frustrations through writing. And I think it’s great that you do so with humour.