I'm broke.  I mean I'm really, really broke.  After a 6 year downward spiral, I finally hit the ground last August.  My point of impact was overlaid with six or more inches of fibermesh concrete that had been poured over a re-bar lattice.  Below this sat a perfectly formed earthen foundation, one which had been mercilessly compacted by the finest heavy machinery available.  I'm hard core, but when I hit that fucking floor it didn't even scratch the surface.  I didn't mention to the paramedics the fact that I was, at that time, unemployed.  They gave me the thousand dollar taxi ride to the emergency room without checking my credit rating.  At the hospital, they made sure I wasn't about to die before they started hinting that somebody was going to be expecting payment for all of this.  They asked some questions.

Did I have insurance?  No.
Did I have a job?  Unfortunately, the C.I.A. had recently decided to sabotage my ability to sustain my own existence in America, and that meant gainful employment was unmaintainable for me until my tin-foil hats arrived.  
Huh? No, Mrs. Nurse, I am unemployed.
What was my home address?  Hahaha, well, you see, the full answer would require more explanations, and those explanations will inevitably lead you to question my sanity, so short answer:  I'm homeless.
Well, good news is that you're indigent and your 3 day stay here at the lovely Chateau de Hosptial resort is only going to cost you $22.00!  You're joking, right?  I get a 99% discount because I'm a degenerate bane to society?  That's the most awesome thing I've ever heard in my life!  Wait, you said that's the good news.  That means you're about to say some fucked up shit to me, right?
Bad news...  Surgeons are like independent contractors and they send their own bills.  I'm fucked.  

My only hope was social security disability, which I have a legitimate claim for and should have easily been able to collect.

Social security took my application, shit all over it and banished it to another realm.  They were supposed to send me a letter informing me if they denied my claim.  The beginning of February rolled around, and since it had been 6 months since I'd heard anything from them I called to check my claim status.  The lady at the social security office told me that my claim was still under investigation, and sometimes it takes awhile for things to happen.  Dismayed but with no other options, I waited.  
Today, I called them again to see if anything had changed.  I was told that my claim was code N35 and it had been denied.  LAST DECEMBER.  

WHAT THE FUCK.  Jesus help me.  YOU FUCKING PEOPLE TOLD ME IN FEBRUARY THAT IT WAS STILL UNDER INVESTIGATION.  I'VE BEEN WAITING FIVE MONTHS FOR A DECISION YOU REACHED LAST YEAR?  WHAT THE FUCK!  SO NOW WHAT DO I DO?  I guess the next step is appeal the decision, since you obviously have not considered the severity of my injury.  Code N35, lets see... the google says that means my injury was estimated not to last long enough for social security to pay.  BULLSHIT.  YOU NEVER EVEN CONTACTED MY DOCTORS.  I KNOW THIS FOR A FACT.  I'M STILL COMPLETELY FUCKED UP, STILL IN PAIN AND STILL CAN'T GO BACK TO WORK DOING ANYTHING I'VE DONE IN THE PAST.  I NEED ANOTHER SURGERY OR I'LL BE IN PAIN FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.  ok, calm down.  I guess I'll appeal, and see what happens.  Right?  Wrong.  

You can only appeal within 60 days of being denied, and nobody gives a flying fuck that we lied to you until it was too late.  Thank you for allowing us to ass fuck you into a crippled state of agonizing ruin.  You are the biggest loser, you fuck.  God Bless America.

My next call was to a law firm specializing in social security disability.  They said there were no guarantees that their lawyers would be interested in my case.  Apparently, it isn't easy enough for their liking.  They probably take the cases that are a sure thing, and something about mine made them shark right on by in search of easier prey.

I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do.  My debt seems insurmountable, and I need another surgery that I can't even begin to bullshit anybody about being able to pay for.  Ever.  The pain in my feet is like Uncle Sam twisting his knife in my back.  When everybody else laughs or smiles, it makes my inability to do so seem that much more depressing.

I need help.