The worst realization


I am never going to receive Medicare or Social Security. I didn’t work enough legitimate, real “jobs” to earn sufficient work credits. I was truly disabled by depression, anxiety, and social phobias by the time I was 25.

So Instead, I turned my efforts to writing and visual arts for the preponderance of my life. Usually, I worked 10 hour days at this, especially the drawings, which could be intricate and involving. I declared my paltry income on my tax returns. I sometimes received refunds (that, I will never understand) though also paltry. But most of the time, I would not be able to file b/c I have always been below the poverty line.

Because I have chosen unemployable creativity as my life’s work, my future is quite bleak. I am fortunate that my mother and my wife can pool their resources in order to buy me health insurance. Now my mother may be dying (pneumonia, again), but hopefully she will pull through, but I cannot walk downstairs to help her. Poor Sherry is sleeping downstairs to keep an ear open, should my mum call for help. Sherry is a saint, one who has saved my life (literally, not hyperbole) several times.

Today, I am reminded of the very gifted author, A.R. Morlan and her tragic end. All of that talent was insufficient to earn her enough money in order to buy health insurance. She died alone and in pain.

This is intolerable. Even when Democrats are in office and in control of both houses of Congress, this issue is overlooked. I fear that if this does not change, many gifted, hardworking writers and artists will also meet a very bad end. And I (though of mediocre talent) will almost certainly be among them.

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