Sicko in Ireland

Two months gone.

My infatuation of this place is long gone.

Reality checked in already when I got my first paycheck and was deducted 50% in emergency taxes.

It took me several weeks to get it sorted out. I do not not however if I will see that money again.

And then things got worse. Just a few days before I planned to go to belfast for poetry night and seek out my old destiny, my ttoth was getting so bad that I went to the hospital, thinking the health care system was anything similar to that of up north.

It was not. They did not have an emergency dentist, nor real facilities. It was like a hospital in a banana republic. The day before I was suppossed to leave for Belfast, I got an appointment. It proved that it cost 50 euros just to shake the quacks hand. An X-ray later, he informed that there was no hope for my front tooth. A gum desease that has spread, and it was no going back. though, he gave me prescription for antibiotics. that was it. the price for this ordeal: 65 euros! And then it was another 7 euros for taxi to work. but at that time, I didn’t feel well. In fact I was sick to my stomach, and upset. A depression was going to take the best of me the day before I was supposed to face destiny. to sse what “was meant to be” really meant.

My teammate saw that I was not on par, and let me know that me being there was redundant. I would only wear myself more out.

For three days, I spent in bed burried with my own thoughts.

And loosing revenue for being home sick.

The next blow came middle October. One Tuesday night after dozing off, I woke up, shivering. My whole body was like a leave. And it wouldn’t stop either.

In one hour my cold sweat went over to a fever. all symptoms of a kind of flu i have never had before was invading my system. Swine flu I thought.

Again I had to call in sick for the rest of the week. And lose another 250 euros in salary. 85 euros a day was wasted as I tried to cope with this new reality. It felt as if forces was working aginst me in fullfilling what I camre for. and the cold rainy days was not improving my imression.

That was the time I also got mail: From the hospital. A 100 euro bill for a five minute non treatment. I was getting pissed at the whole system. It stank like a mini America where billing people is more important than actuall treating them, or at least being able to treat them.

My job seemed less than empathetic, or even sympathetic. to them it was more important to go through the right channels in calling in sick than actually be of any assistance whatsoever. The first three days was the worst. I had no money the first two days, and no onee to help me get pain killers or any food suffs. that-s when I really missed the one I love(d) up North to come and nurse me back to health, and give the comfort I needed at the time. For 8 days I battled the fever and symptoms by myself +  and won.

It was not swine flu this time. And I didn-t need at doctor to tell me that. But I was required to go to the doc and get another batch of prescription drugs and a notice for work. Another 90 Euros out the window.

There seems to be bastards in Irealnd amongst doctors, employers and revenue whos main role in existence is to screw you good and hard, and even give you a warning for being sick so long. At least that-s what happened to several of my colleagues. I was preparing for a similar treatment the day I came back to work.

No such misfortune. Because I had prepared a speech for them they would never have heard before or ever will again. Instead I actually got a “pad” on the shoulder “good to have you back”… This come old stone face, the floor manager himself. But I wasn`t on par yet, and left early to get in a warm bed and sleep off the remains of my ilness.

Getting sick in Ireland is a costly business. And even if you`re born here, doesn-t mean you`re getting any breaks. Part time workers and temp workers no matter who you are and where you come from have basically no rights, nor a system that will insure that you won-t suffer more economically when being disabled for shorter or longer periods of time.

If you have any rights regarding benefits, they-re surelly not telling you. It must be a secret not to be spread around. Maybe they have other priorities than to fight for the right of the workers. Like saving the corrupt arseholes in NAMA. Irelands equivalent to Goldman and Sachs.

Not only was I in a rotten state, but my dream, my goal was drifting away in the horizon.

And other people from work have also had their problems.

All 30 of them living in an apartment building on the other side of town was threatend with eviction a few weeks ago.

The whole building was branded fire hazzardous by some department. Litigation and meetings; well one at least.

Now, there are 30 people living from day to day wondering if they have to move out. but it seems that there`s nothing being done.

Some of them have also been struck out by illness.

People have started to leave their job. some have just had enough.

And my journey feels at a standsttill. No positiv sign from anywhere. Being too kcackered or too broke to be able to do anything I was supposed to do. My writing is practically non existent. Where I have started to doubt myself, my ability to write, or to find that sanctity where words were working for me, and I didn`t have to fight for each and single line I put down.

Doubt in wether what I`m doing is the right thing, doubting that whatever happy days I had ever existed or if it was all just a dream, being relived over and over when the dark days came and light vanished and hope dissappeared.

I wrote my first poetry in a year last night.  

It`s not a happy. poem. It`s about being back in the gutter when my angel made a turn and I found myself in utter darkness.

Getting sick in Ireland bloody sucks….



4 responses to “Sicko in Ireland

  1. A working class people try something to beeee. Bob Geldof . ueetwe sry,
    I ment Bob dylan. and black peoples working on the cutten fields. Everybuddy loves theyr home country, but for some, of some risently acurance . The green is greener on the outher side if you absolutly must find out. And when you are grey hairded for letting your grandchildren knowing; Im smugling sigaretts from a new border now, its way far to expensive here, how about that? They looking at you with their questeneble eyes, wile your having your time, and humbling for you self. They have to digg deap enuf in their notecase, letting Me tell them some smal part of it, what I’ve bin tru, course only I am the long legged here.

    • Oh it`s true alright!

      Thanks for the “fanmail”.

      If you’re into lies, distortions, corruption and Dancing with the Stars, I urge you to go out and buy yourself a Sunday Mirror immediately to get your daily dose of BS.
      Truths always come inconveniantly…

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