Welcome to the Stripper Olympics, where the veteran is a ping pong ball and the VA staff are the paddles. In the frustrating bureaucracy of the hospital system, the simple act of trying to get an appointment becomes an absurd spectacle of misdirection and incompetence. This poem chronicles a week-long battle against a faceless system, a veteran’s struggle for basic care that devolves into a desperate search for a supervisor who is always "out." It's a raw look at the dehumanizing process of seeking help and the quiet rage that builds when you're caught in a game where the rules are constantly changing and no one seems to know how to win.
Stripper Olympics
I called the Ann Arbor VA hospital every-goddamn-day this week. I hoped to reach someone who could set up a primary care appointment so I can switch out of the Detroit VA hospital. First I was told a mandatory in person appointment couldn’t be scheduled during the plague. Now the doors are open and the enrollment department doesn’t seem to have office hours.
I was done fucking around today. And asked the operator to transfer me to the Patient Advocate. Rather than make the transfer the operator argued with me and said the Patient Advocate would be of no use to me. I stopped her right there.
“Never try to talk a veteran out of reaching out to a Patient Advocate. The advocates entire job is to find solutions to patient problems.”
Little did I know the operator was half right.
The operator transferred me. The call connected and then was dropped.
I called back. Waited another 15 minutes on hold to talk to the operator. I said what I say every time I call the VA, “Please don’t transfer me before I finish talking..”
Because they do that shit.
I wrote down the extension and was transferred to the Patient Advocate. Who in a very confident voice said I need to be transferred to Mental Health. After being on hold for 25 minutes, Mental Health informed me I need to talk to Primary Care Mental Health. I was transferred again. I wanted on hold indefinably. After 20 minutes, I called the operator and asked to speak with to her supervisor.
The supervisor was out but I was transferred to someone else. Who informed me that the last operator, The Patient Advocate and Mental Health were all wrong.
I couldn’t have an initial mental health appointment until I saw my primary care doctor for the first time and asked for a referral. The earliest they could schedule an appointment is a month from now. It will be another month after my Primary Care appointment before I’ll be able to see a psychiatrist. I have one more month of Prozac.
I called mental health back and spoke to the clerk, “You need to call the patient advocate and the operators and explain how veterans are registered and transferred into this VA. Registration is the most foundational and basic thing operators should know... Mental heaLth... yes we are always understaffed and...
Me: My concern is not with staffing it’s with competency. Registration is the most foundational aspect to the operator’s job. Operators are often the very first point of contact new veterans have seeking care at the VA hospital. Now I’ve been dealing with the VA and as a social worker addressed other veteran’s challenges with the VA. Tell me why would a veteran want to use this VA if their first experience was being on hold for an hour and a half while VA staff transfer the veteran like a ping pong ball at the Stripper Olympics?”
Interpretation
The poem uses a schizoanalytic lens to examine the veteran's encounter with the VA as a complex system of desiring-machines and flows. The veteran, stripped of his autonomy, is reduced to a "ping pong ball," a passive object subject to the whimsical transfers of the VA's bureaucratic apparatus. The operator and the patient advocate become disembodied parts of this machine, each with their own flawed programming, unable to provide a coherent path to care. The veteran's desire for a simple appointment is a productive flow that is constantly blocked and diverted, turning into frustration and rage as he is bounced between departments like a ball in a twisted game.
The poem’s central conflict is the clash between the veteran's urgent need for care and the system’s irrational logic. The VA, a supposedly therapeutic institution, functions as a body-without-organs, a chaotic and indifferent machine that fails to recognize the veteran's suffering. The repeated transfers, the unhelpful advice, and the endless holds are not just an inconvenience; they are acts of institutional violence that deny the veteran's humanity. The final image of the "Stripper Olympics" is a profound metaphor for this dehumanization, a spectacle where the veteran's desperation is a source of twisted entertainment for the bureaucratic machine. The veteran's rage is not merely anger; it is the scream of a desiring-machine that has been pushed to its limit, demanding recognition and a path to something other than the madness of the system.
#VAhealthcare #VeteranCare #HealthcareFrustration #Bureaucracy #MentalHealth #PatientAdvocacy #VeteransDeserveBetter #SystemFailure #StripperOlympics #AccessToCare #Prozac #AnnArborVA #DetroitVA #SocialWork #HealthcareSystem
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