Addressed To LUBENOW,TIMOTHY
Dear "Rush" Pain Center,
I hope this message finds you basking in the glow of your latest actuarial spreadsheet, which I can only assume is color-coded in the vibrant hues of audacity. It seems you're under the impression that I, a mere mortal who narrowly escaped your clutches, owe you financial tribute for a medical adventure that was less "healing hands" and more "Final Destination: Healthcare Edition."
Let me get this straight: I'm supposed to pay for services that can charitably be described as malpractice adjacent? Services that caused irreparable harm, nearly sent me to the Great Waiting Room in the Sky, and left me wondering if I'd mistakenly wandered into the set of a Kafkaesque medical procedural where "do no harm" is a punchline? Bold of you. Bold, indeed.
This billing crusade feels like it was conceived in the same fever dream as Donald Trump's claim that Mexico would pay for his border wall. Did you consult with the ghost of Herbert Hoover before deciding that disaster survivors should also foot the bill for the rubble? Or perhaps Ayn Rand whispered in your ear: "The patient who suffers the most owes the most---it's only fair!" If so, you should know she's been dead for decades, much like your grasp of medical ethics.
To be clear, the only thing your institution deserves from me is a spot in a dystopian novel about corporate greed gone haywire. (Spoiler alert: In Chapter Three, the protagonist turns the tables and sues for enough damages to buy a small island. I'm workshopping titles. Suggestions welcome.)
Your persistence here reminds me of that one character in every zombie movie who refuses to acknowledge they've been bitten. The infection of greed has set in, and yet you shamble forward, clutching your ledger, moaning, "Pay...us...now." But here's the thing: I'm not interested in financing your next dubious attempt to blend capitalism and caregiving. If I wanted that, I'd invest in crystals or essential oils.
Historical context might help you understand my position: In 1381, English peasants rose up against oppressive taxation in what became known as the Peasants' Revolt. They had pitchforks and torches; I have a keyboard and a pointed sense of humor. Different tools, same energy. Shall we revolt, or will you see reason before I have to compose a Change.org petition so scathing it's taught in AP History classes?
And while we're at it, let's talk about accountability---or, in your case, the lack thereof. Imagine if Aragorn from The Lord of the Rings showed up at the Gates of Mordor demanding payment for a journey that nearly killed him. That's essentially what you're doing, except without the charm, nobility, or Orc-fighting prowess. You're billing Frodo for a one-way ticket to Mount Doom, and I'm here to say: Not on my watch, Sauron.
I'd also like to point out the sheer gall it takes to send me a bill for your mistakes. It's giving "Marie Antoinette, but make it healthcare." The cake here, I assume, is the absurd notion that I should financially reward the trauma you inflicted. Spoiler alert: I'm not eating it.
Let's be perfectly clear: I'm not paying this bill. Not now. Not ever. Not in this universe or any parallel dimension where I could theoretically owe you anything. Consider this my final communication on the matter, unless you'd like to receive an invoice for emotional damages and my time spent drafting this response (which, frankly, is Pulitzer-worthy and you're welcome).
So, in conclusion: Cancel this balance immediately. Forgive the debt. And consider investing in a mirror large enough for your entire billing department to gaze into and reflect on its life choices. If you need help finding one, I hear Elon Musk is building giant reflective surfaces for when he colonizes Mars. It's on brand for him, and clearly, you're on a similar trajectory.
Warm regards (but not too warm---you don't deserve cozy feelings),
Paul Zubrys
P.S. If you ignore this message and persist in sending bills, I will respond by sending annotated copies of A Christmas Carol with a detailed breakdown of why you're the Ghost of Healthcare Future. Spoiler: It doesn't end well for Scrooge. read more