Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 6,100 times in 2011. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 5 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

While our medical system in the US is by far the best in the world, even if you have insurance, it can be very expensive for the patient with the co-pays in a catastrophic illness or injury.

The year 2011 has been a difficult, yet eventful year for me. Doctors still can’t explain my near-death experience in January when all the systems in my body began to shut-down and fail…heart, brain, kidneys, liver, digestive system, plus malnutrition and dehydration. At one point I was given anywhere from a few hours to six months to live. I was able to recover quickly due to the efforts of the medical staff, and even though I have Medicare supplemental insurance, there are still several hundred dollars in co-pays.

At 7:40 p.m. on March first a tow truck coming down the mountain I live on lost it’s brakes and slammed into the apartment building I live in at 85 m.p.h., losing its load of a minivan and injuring two of the three people riding in the truck. Three apartments were destroyed (fortunately not mine, and more amazingly no one in the apartments hit was injured) forcing all the tenants to move out as the building was temporarily condemned until it could be thoroughly inspected. I had to move into a motel and eat all my meals out for eleven days. Besides the manager of the complex, I am the only tenant with renter’s insurance. While the insurance covered a great deal of the expenses, there is still a deductible and uncovered things to pay for.

But God was not finished with me. On April 27th I woke up and the nail on my big toe on my right foot was a dark gray. Over the next four days the nail got darker, turning back and getting very soft and bloody. On May 2nd I decided to see if I could get a fill-in appointment with my podiatrist, but as I was dialing the telephone number I collapsed. While unconscious I somehow got from my desk across the living room to the front door, and somehow dialed 911. I was told later that I was so close to the door they had trouble getting in past me. They couldn’t revive me, loaded me into an ambulance and drove me about three miles to a waiting medical helicopter. I came to in the air (even though you don’t know what’s going on or where you are going, it’s still pretty neat to be flying like that) on my way to the University of Tennessee Medical Center. After I arrived in the emergency room, a doctor put his face down close to mine and said, “I am either going to have to cut off your leg, or you are going to die very soon. You have 15 seconds to decide.” I resisted until I could talk to my own primary care doctor, who I trust implicitly. We talked about ten minutes and I decided to have the leg removed.After the surgery I spent nearly a month in the hospital, and then was moved to a good rehabilitation center. Again, while I have insurance to cover the bulk of the cost, I still have a co-pay of $100 per day that I am in rehab. I have a 100-day limit, and it is expected I will need that entire time to recover. The process of getting fitted for and learning how to use a prosthetic leg has started, that also has a major co-pay that covers 20% of the cost of the leg and follow-up care. One-hundred days at $100 per day amounts to $10,000 in co-pays, plus whatever other expenses I don’t know about.

So I made the decision to try to raise as much as I can through this website and any other means possible. My goal is $15,000 and whatever you can afford to donate will be greatly appreciated. In the event there is any left over after I pay all the bills, any residue will be donated to the Salvation Army.

To make a donation go to Can You Help Me, Now? where you make a donation using PayPal, plus there are instructions on what to do if you would rather send a check.

Whatever amount you can afford, even if its just a dollar, it is greatly appreciated and I thank you in advance.

God bless you and thank you for your time and donation.

The North has Bloomingdale’s , the South has Dollar General.

The North has coffee houses, the South has Waffle Houses.

The North has dating services, the South has family reunions.

The North has switchblade knives; the South has .45′s.

The North has double last names; the South has double first names.

The North has Indy car races; The South has stock car races .

North has Cream of Wheat , the South has grits.

The North has green salads, the South has collard greens .

The North has lobsters, the South has crawfish .

The North has the rust belt; the South has the Bible Belt .

FOR NORTHERNERS MOVING SOUTH…

In the South: If you run your car into a ditch, don’t panic. Four men in a four-wheel drive pickup truck with a tow chain will be along shortly. Don’t try to help them, just stay out of their way. This is what they live for.

Don’t be surprised to find movie rentals and bait in the same store… Do not buy food at this store.

Remember, ‘Y’all’ is singular, all ya’ all is plural, and all ya’ all’s is plural possessive.

Get used to hearing “You ain’t from round here, are ya?”

Save all manner of bacon grease. You will be instructed later on how to use it.

Don’t be worried at not understanding what people are saying. They can’t understand you either. The first Southern statement to creep into a transplanted Northerner’s vocabulary is the adjective big ol,’ truck or big ol’ boy. Most Northerners begin their Southern-influenced dialect this way. All of them are in denial about it.

The proper pronunciation you learned in school is no longer proper .

Be advised that “He needed killin…” is a valid defense here.

If you hear a Southerner exclaim, “Hey, y’all watch this,” you should stay out of the way. These are likely to be the last words he’ll ever say.

If there is the prediction of the slightest chance of even the smallest accumulation of snow, your presence is required at the local grocery store. It doesn’t matter whether you need anything or not. You just have to go there.

Do not be surprised to find that 10-year olds own their own shotguns, they are proficient marksmen, and their mammas taught them how to aim.

In the South, we have found that the best way to grow a lush green lawn is to pour gravel on it and call it a driveway.

AND REMEMBER: If you do settle in the South and bear children, don’t think anyone will accept them as Southerners. After all, if the cat had kittens in the oven, we ain’t gonna call ‘em biscuits.