What's REALLY Wrong With Healthcare in America Today

Dying. Am I.

I went to the doctor on Saturday because I could not take the ridiculous coughing fits. He told me, very gently and kindly, that I had a cold. Colds sometimes take a long time to go away, he said. But then he gave me a Z-Pak. You know, just in case it's not a cold. So is it or isn't it?

If this is a cold, I've never encountered one like this. I'm hacking so much that I can't sleep at night. My little one is just a puddle. Her fever has been over 102 for the past four days. I took her in to the pediatrician today. Same story. It's a cold, the doctor said. Of course, her fever was gone by the time I took her to the doctor. It promptly shot back up over 102 this afternoon. Nobody swabbed us to test for the flu, but that's what I'm guessing we all have.

Dishes are piled up in the sink. I have not showered since, well, I'm actually ashamed to say how long. The house is a certified disaster area. It probably qualifies for FEMA assistance. I don't even have the energy to fix meals for my own kids. They have been existing on frozen waffles, Chee-Tos and ice cream sandwiches. Luckily, whatever this is zapped their appetites. Mine too. I managed to eat some toast today.

And speaking of government assistance, here's what SHOULD be happening. Nannies, and not just any nannies, but certified pediatric nurse-nannies, should be sent to my house to care for the girls. A team of cleaning ladies (or men, we're EOE here) also should be dispatched to sanitize this den of disease. A personal chef would be good, too, for when the girls feel like eating again. I should be admitted to the hospital where I would have narcotics administered intravenously, and continuously, until such time as I no longer feel like crawling in a hole and disappearing.

I think I should run for President.