You son of a bitch, Death.
(At first glance, I thought this was about nurses and doctors. Then, I realized I wrote it when I was angry about health insurance.)
They make the hardest choice
Based on what they gain
Do they pay to have you live
Or wait until you die
It is the question all hate to make
Yet twisted by their greed
So that now we fear their choice
The lives of children
In the hungry hands
Of those that have no bond
They see us as their numbers
The unholy bottom line
Numbered claims
And faceless policies
Just waiting to be fleeced
And tossed upon the curb
We pray for their aid
Knowing what will come
They will find excuses
Denying our living needs
Treating us
Like we have no souls
And the death of loved ones
Has no impact on our lives
They continue to play god
Ignoring the river of tears
That flow beneath their feet
Mistaking the wails
Of their grieving victims
For the howl of empty wind
Legends of Windemere 
The frustration and anger are understandable. I have a friend with a chronic illness whose medicine is sometimes denied by insurance. He’s had to appeal that several times.
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That’s insane. Really makes one wish these companies could be charged with murder.
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I think you captured medical insurance companies very well, Charles.
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Thanks.
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😊
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Truly what my husband faced as a MD trying to get insurance companies to pay for medicine and necessary procedures for his patients. He told me he spent almost as much time on the phone with those companies as he did in the exam room.
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That’s kind of sad. Imagine if doctors could use that phone time on patients.
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