We talked about this way, way back in the thread. Where it's abdominal surgery, they'll probably want her up and walking ASAP, and I can't imagine how much of an insufferable cunt she'll be about that. And hospital food? Nah, gotta e-beg so Joh can go get her Burger King or whatever.
I'm just waiting for her to screech about how she's getting kicked out of the hospital the same day as her surgery, or perhaps the morning after, because hospitals hate poor people and are part of the genocidal war on the disabled. That she's not going to get a 2-5 day inpatient stay (which I assume whatever old female relative got 30-40 years ago when she had an open surgery for her hysto) to lounge around in her new nightie and color while waiting for her next meal, either hasn't dawned on her, or else she thinks her would-be paypigs are too ignorant to know it's an in-and-out procedure.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised by this, but the inability to NOT reference us appears to be a common cow trait. See also "
Landon Hiscock".
While normally you'd think troons and YeastyPolly here would be worlds apart, they are unified by their narcissism and absolutely uncontrollable compulsion to put their life on twitter.
The end result is the same: lulz for us, ineffective squealing from them, but it is interesting to watch play out in real time.
I suspect it's due to a Narcissistic cow belief that if the cow knows about their Kiwi Farms thread, then everybody else who follows them online must. That, combined with her all-consuming victim mentality.
That the overwhelmingly vast majority of her followers weren't paying enough attention to the replies to her tweets to even notice when the cow-tipper infomed her of her thread's existence apparently never occurred to her. Had she just kept silent on the matter, protected her tweets, and resisted the urge to keep begging strangers for money and stuff, hardly anybody would have known about it.
Instead, she had to make a huge deal of it because she's too self-absorbed to understand that she's an absolute nobody who keeps making the same tiresome begposts, and therefore none of her compassion-fatigued followers pay close enough attention to anything on her Twitter to have noticed.
For whatever reason insulin isn’t fully covered by government programs. But like
@Rewire Tea says, Josh claims he has no insurance. Polly lied about his food stamps, though, so she could be lying about that too.
Either way, it’s clear that Josh has had untreated beetus for a very long time. His body is breaking down just from the pictures we’ve seen. They need to lay off the Mello Yello and use their non EBT money on insulin, but I sense she’ll grift for the insulin while using what money she does have on weed.
She shouldn’t be worrying about Null. She should be worrying about ketoacidosis
If Josh is really lucky, he'll feel like shit, lie down, slip into a coma, and die quickly and peacefully.
If he's not lucky, he's going to die in a horrifically drawn-out, painful way.
Type 2 diabetes is absolutely nothing to let slide. If he really has no recourse and can't afford/get free treatment at all, he needs to
completely overhaul his diet in order to maintain some level of BG control. I believe he's well past the point where he'd be able to put it into remission through a strict diet and plenty of exercise; he had noodle arms from muscle wasting even when he was still a fatty. But he could at least slow his descent.
I'm an oldfag, so I've seen lots of people die of ugly shit like cancer, COPD, emphysema—and uncontrolled diabetes. I've forgiven dying people I'd previously come to despise because their suffering on the way out was so hellish I never could have wished it on them.
I don't like Josh; he's kind of shit as a human. But I'm going to say this really loud, because I feel I must:
JOSH, YOU DON'T WANT TO DIE THIS WAY.
You really don't. Trust me on this one.
Or, fuck it, maybe you do; maybe fulfilling your latent deathwish seems like a better option than living out a life of perpetual loserdom, working low-paying jobs and living in a squalid hovel with a fat, yeasty, barren wife and the stench of catboxes constantly burning up your sinuses. But god damn, I can't sit back and leave this unsaid. Dude, you're fucking dying, even if you don't yet realize it, and something needs to change
now.