Medicaid Application

Oh—I had to go apply for Med­ic­aid today. I know that I don’t qual­i­fy, but I have to have a let­ter say­ing so for one of the drug com­pa­nies’ patient assis­tance pro­grams. So after class today, I went to the Cobb DFCS office which han­dles adults (you have to know which one, and they aren’t very help­ful about such things until you get to the wrong place and wait for a while).

The woman did­n’t want to give me an appli­ca­tion. I mean, seriously—I would have thought that the appli­ca­tions would sim­ply be sit­ting there for any­one who need­ed them. But oh no, you have to go through the gate­keep­er. And she did­n’t want to give me one, because she was sure that I’m not dis­abled and could­n’t pos­si­bly qualify.

I’m assertive, to put it mild­ly, when I’m feel­ing up to it. And I was today. So I got my appli­ca­tion, filled it out, and gave it back to her with a sug­ary South­ern Bap­tist Good Girl smile. She might have thrown it away after I left, but if I don’t hear some­thing soon I’ll raise a stink.

I’m sure the bitch had absolute­ly no author­i­ty to turn peo­ple away who just want an application—I mean, there’s a whole approval process for a rea­son, yes? So how many peo­ple who DO qual­i­fy get bul­lied away at that window?

Cur­rent Mood: 😡angry
Cyn is Rick's wife, Katie's Mom, and Esther & Oliver's Mémé. She's also a professional geek, avid reader, fledgling coder, enthusiastic gamer (TTRPGs), occasional singer, and devoted stitcher.
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