There are two ways of looking at old age:
Some look at it as a privilege while others look upon it as a curse. And, regarding those who look at it as a privilege, well, I suspect that bespeaks from which age demographic they make their breezy pronouncements. But I'm going to be 65 this Tuesday. I've earned the right to be more cynical.
Just yesterday, I'd checked my bank balance and was surprised to see I'd gotten my Social Security direct deposit a few days early (probably in observance of MLK Day this Monday). What dismayed me was the fact the Medicare people had already begun stealing $174 out of my Social Security benefits, meaning I not only never saw my COLA (a whopping 3.2%), but they took another $137 on top of that.
In fact, along with the Cost of Living Adjustment that I'll likely never see, the Medicare premiums
went up this year, thanks to the Biden administration refusing to lower them. I knew this was coming. About two and a half years ago, when Barbara was coming up on 65, I took her to the local Senior Center to try to head this off. Up to that point, we were both on Masshealth, which was comprehensive health care coverage provided by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.
But we knew they would claw back a significant portion of her Social Security benefits to pay for the premiums she shouldn't have had to pay. As we all know, Medicare, like Social Security, is
supposed to be funded through weekly payroll taxes. I started working back in 1975, when Gerald Ford was still president. I was 16. That goes back to nearly a half a century. I don't have a clear idea of how much I'd kicked in over that half century but I can tell you it was more than just a few bucks.
Oh, and they impose a $1600 deductible on inpatient visits. That's what I'm getting for my bloated $174.70 in monthly premiums. It's starting to look more and more like private health care, isn't it?
So, basically, the cocksuckers are robbing Peter to pay Paul. The government forces you on Medicare when you hit 65 (that is, until they transition you to Tufts, which is private insurance, because they count on you to not want to redo your insurance paperwork).
Keep in mind, this is
not Medicare Advantage, that steaming pile of fetid shit dressed up to look like Medicare but is just predatory private health insurance dressed up to look like Medicare, an enduring relic of the Bush years.
So, no, I wasn't stupid enough to sign up for that. I already have Uncle Sam to butt fuck me.
To get back to Barbara:
I took her to the Senior Center here in town to start the paperwork to forestall this legalized theft of her SS benefits. Since she was on Masshealth, we'd learned that the Commonwealth would pick up the premiums for Medicare once we transitioned her from Masshealth Plus to Masshealth Standard, which is actually more comprehensive.
But while we were doing the paperwork. they asked if she owned any stocks or bonds (because they had to determine if she owned $2000 or less to qualify) and bigmouthed JP blurted out, "Yes, she owns Disney stock."
You could literally hear the wheels screeching to a halt. They put their pens down and one walked out of the room. She came back with a thick sheaf of papers containing contact information for the Disney Shareholder office in Rhode Island. They instructed us to contact Disney and send back a stock valuation report listing the worth of her 12 shares.
After nearly a half dozen phone calls to RI, all we ever got was a sheet of paper telling us how many shares she owned without giving us the stock valuation on Wall Street that day.
Then Barbara got sick early last year, getting her on Masshealth Standard quickly became a moot issue and the rest is history.
So, right after New Year's, it was my turn to trudge to the Senior Center since the arrogant cocksuckers at Medicare had already sent me a notice telling me they were about to steal $174.70 from me. I thought I wouldn't get put on Medicare until I turned 65 on January 16th but the social worker who did the paperwork said they go according to the birth month. Still, I'd hoped it was submitted in time. A quick check of my bank statement said it wasn't.
And I don't have any confidence that the state or the feds will work with me and stop stealing my hard-earned money. I also have an appointment set up with my new PCP on the 17th and now I'm
terrified I'm going to get hit with a huge medical bill because of the shitty $1600 deductible that Barb and I never had to worry about on Masshealth. And will the meds I need to stay alive even get picked up? Again, I don't know.
Now I know what Bette Davis meant when she said, "Old age isn't for wimps."
It's a predatory cycle of fraud that's designed to victimize senior citizens and it's all nice and legal. This is the curse of being old. The government or some entity gives you a little with one hand and the government takes back something with the other. Because God forbid senior citizens should be comfortable or get ahead. The idea is to perpetually keep you on a hamster wheel.
If, on the offchance I get a job and start working again, guess what? Social Security claws back even more benefits. If my van, that doesn't run, was worth $2000 or more, I wouldn't qualify for Masshealth Standard. And, when the Office of Transitional Assistance, which runs the SNAP benefits here in Massachusetts, found out Barbara died last year, they sent her "estate" a letter of condolence right before telling me they were cutting my SNAP benefits by more than half.
Because God forbid Senior Citizens should be deprived of the right to eat cat food.
One of the few things that went right for me last year was when I applied for RAFT (Rental Assistance for Families in Transition). My landlady was breathing down my neck demanding the $3200 back rent I couldn't afford to pay after the nursing home stole Barbara's piddly $877 in monthly benefits. No sooner than RAFT had put the $3200 in her pocket, just days into the New Year, she began badgering me for January's rent. She really wants to get rid of me. And if she doesn't evict me, the yuppie bastards to whom she's planning on selling the house will when they take over and jack up my rent even more.
Guys, I hate sounding like Donald Trump. I hate saying in so many words, "Woe is me." But there's a world of difference between Donald Trump and me. I was born into a blue collar family, not into wealth and privilege. My Irish/Italian family had to work hard for what we earned in this world and I was no exception.
Nobody told me back in the 70s when I struck out on my own that my rent would come to about 100% of my income, that my Social Security would be stolen from me to pay for Medicare that I was already funding through my payroll taxes. We, and I, always lived within our means. I did everything I was told to do, was expected to do, and I had.
And look where it got me. Literally, the older I get, the more entities take away from me. My income, Barbara. Her life. My housing.
They took everything.
And hardly a day goes by when I don't wonder what I did to deserve this. Really, put yourself in my place. You follow the rules set out before you, you obey them and at the end of it all, you still get a bag put over your head and taken for that last ride like Tessio in The Godfather.
Wouldn't you ask yourself the same question? "What did I do?"
All Barbara and I wanted was to be left alone. I tried and worked hard to give her a good, stable home free of fear and worry. I paid my bills on time, kept plenty of good food in the house. Yes, people helped us over the years and I always spent whatever I had wisely. I lived a good, law abiding life and kept creditors whole, starting with my landlords.
I didn't have the money to set up an IRA decades ago. I don't have a Money Market or CD account. I certainly don't have savings. I'm about as close to extinction as you can possibly get. My landlady's dying to dislodge me and she's starting to treat me as if I'm some deadbeat tenant, which I am not.
I didn't create this situation. I didn't ask for this to happen to me.
And, again, I hate sounding like Trump but, unlike him, I have committed no crimes. I don't have over a dozen cushy residences to flee to. I took good care of my ailing girlfriend until I was forced to hand over her care to the people who later contributed to her murder.
I need help more than ever. This is not a pack of lies. This is not a drill. I need help more desperately than ever before and I do not know to whom else to turn. We have no shelters in the area, which is not even remotely an option. I've tried looking for a job but all my past employers are literally dead. There's no one to call for a reference. No one will hire me. And they're just smart enough to know how not to violate the Age Discrimination Act of 1967 by not saying out loud they won't hire me because of my age.
