The history of day care is like the history of oysters: once for poor people, now a luxury commodity.
When my toddler’s day care started turning parents away at the door due to staffing shortages, I learned it was owned by private equity — which maximizes enrollment to squeeze profit out of childcare and now owns eight of the 11 largest US day care companies.
A few months ago, I was chatting with the mom of a toddler who is the same age as my daughter. As a toddler who is the same age as my daughter. As tends to happen when parents of young kids get together, the subject of childcare came up. She relayed that she was happy with their current situation — a nanny share with a few other families — and that it was a welcome change from the day care center they had used previously. One day at their former day care, they showed up at the door and were told to leave: the day care center didn’t have enough staff for the day and was at capacity with kids.
My mouth fell open. “You were turned away at the door? For services you paid for? On a day you were supposed to be at work?”
“Yup, that’s exactly what happened,” she said. I relayed that while there were problems with our day care situation — it was expensive, of course, among other things — thankfully nothing like that had occurred in the nine months we’d been there.
I went home later feeling like we had dodged a bullet. My partner and I had looked at that same day care her family had used, even putting in an application, but we ultimately chose a different one. I may have been patting myself on the back a bit, thinking that our intuition about that place had been right. Turns out the joke was on us.
I'll die in my own bed, or, given the current fascist regime in America, with my boots on. Either way, I do not foresee a comfortable end, unless the "boots on" option comes around.
While we're at it, I can't see why more terminal patients don't go murderbot. If I'm dying horribly, I'm not selling the our little house. It's all I have to leave my wife and kids, and it ain't fucking much. I'm doing a little research and murdering as many health care profiteers as I possibly can while I can still hold a battle rifle.
That's not BS talk from a young man. I'm 54. Gotta think ahead!
Unfortunately your estate would be sued so you probably wouldn't leave anything to the kids or wife were you to go out in such a conflagaration.
Further, Knowing a firm death prognosis generally already means you're limited in many ways time, physically, or just getting affairs in order and trying to spend quality time with family and friends.
Meh. Better than "certainly" I guess. But I admit I had not thought of that scenario.
Anyway, you're also right on the prognosis timing. I have my affairs mostly in order, better than most I'd guess, just need to remind my wife where to find the text file with the goodies.
OTOH, AR-15 style weapons are insanely easy to handle, even for the infirm! PRO TIP: Red-dot sight, point and click interface.
Cash out and give it away before doing anything. Better to give with a warm hand than a cold one anyway.