One of the joys of writing for an audience where anyone can just come in off the street and jump in part of the way through the “conversation”, so to speak, is that you often get a lot of wastes of brain cells who have a very serious lack of ability to read between the lines. Maybe I should have spelled out in very small words that much of one night was spent trying to gently, slowly, and rationally explore options before taking more drastic measures. But really, if you need such things explained to you that thoroughly, I would suggest going back to reading Harry Potty books and leaving us grown-ups in peace.
With that out of the way, I must turn to the phrase that has begun to piss me off so dearly that I want to take the next person who speaks it aloud and slam their head into plate glass. Yes, it is a first world problem, you fukking dickhead. You want to see the most operative word in the conversation? Here it is: problem. I do not give a fukk how small or insignificant you think it is. It is a problem, and as things like the Congressional Hearings or the Autism Scaremongering Fest of last year demonstrate, some problems in the first world can make just about anyone wince and say how glad they are to not be “that guy”.
Let us get something clear right off the bat. Keeping a patient’s blood sugar elevated to an increasing degree for an entire night is not acceptable behaviour for a medical professional, end of story. Especially not when the patient in question responds to this by starting to ingest water at such a rate that he ends up throwing it back up. When anyone’s blood glucose level is higher than 12.0 mmol/l, and this is a very generous tolerance level, there is only one acceptable way for it to be moving. Down. Defending people who not only demonstrated failure to understand this but also tried to make the patient in question feel bad for trying to bring it to their attention, in essence, makes you a piece of shit. The kind of piece of shit who goes into nursing homes and hides the arthritis medications from the patients because you think arthritis is a first world problem. (The fact that people in the third world suffer arthritis and do even worse as a result should not be lost on either one of us.)
Human filth like this probably gather that all of the things that organisations like Every Australian Counts protest, and the NDIS was designed to start helping alleviate, are so-called first world problems, too. Apparently, a man who is unable to care for himself because a Queenslander biker thug hit him over the head with a bar being left to lie in his own filth for the lion’s share of a week is a first world problem. Pretend it is a slippery slope argument all you like, ladies, but until you have walked from one suburb to another with a blood glucose reading North of 20.0 mmol/l, kindly shut the fukk up and rip all of your fingernails out. And leave them that way. No antiseptic or dressings whilst you wait for them to grow back. And that still is only just vaguely in the ballpark, I might hasten to add.
Having said all of that, this is just a lengthy Donald Duck-style way of introducing a musing on a problem we should all be more focused upon. At what point did having problems turn into a competition?
When I was a little boy, I was left with the overriding impression that having a problem was an event that prompted a certain sequence of events or actions. You had a problem, you identified it, you worked upon a solution, and you went on to the next phase. Or problem, as the case was a lot of the time. But it seems the reality that everyone goes by in the present is that you find yourself with a problem, you go to the person you are told you go to for assistance, they tell you that they are not the person to go, and in the rare event that you do get sent to the right person, the help that you know would produce the most effective outcome is apparently not available because some asshole who makes enough money wants to be let off his taxes so he can have another yacht.
When I was a little boy, we were all sold this wet dream of how we would all be integrated, happy, and united in this utopia where nobody fought anybody anymore. Especially not over little things like who has the uglier skin colour or whose hair was just the wrong shade of pink. In reality, the exact opposite has happened. We are more divided, bitter, and estranged on this day in the year 2013 than I can recall at any point in my life. And it is all because rather than attempt to actualise every person we meet or deal with as a Human being, our monkeysphere is making us feel more and more compelled to dehumanise others, to invalidate not only the existence of others but any aspect of them that might touch upon the lives of others.
Hence the phrase “first world problem”. The Judge Rotenberg Centre is a first world problem. It is happening in the so-called first world. Yet I guess it does not count in the eyes of the assholes who use this phrase, because it is not some Jewish grandfather doing it to some Palestinian child, just one white man doing it to some other white man(boy?). And on and on it goes. Vanilla Ice would “sing” these days “if there was a problem, yo, I will hide it/cover it up/belittle the person exhibiting it”, not “solve it”. Doubtless, these are the same types of morons who proclaim that the pharmaceutical industry has a major business plan based on the suppressing of cures in order to keep us consuming their product.
If you are a decent person and you know it, the first time someone uses the words “first world problem” within earshot of you from this point going forward, you will beat the everloving shit out of them. Just on general principle.
(Also take note of how I have said nothing about absolutely poverty or relative poverty in America or other English-speaking nations yet, either. Those do not count. They are First. World. Problems. You. Fukkers.)