Despair and a Strange Hope

I am very sorry, guys. I've been trying to improve myself while in pain that words cannot describe. I fell back on drinking anything considered safe for humans to dull the pain but I kept needing more. While I threw all of my energy into coping, the rest of life crashed in on me. I have failed so many people and tasks in so many ways because the pain trapped me in a place where time seemed to stop. I wanted to make it through that night or day and not worry about the rest of it.

No matter how much I rail at the circumstances that put me into a sweet deal that I was never healthy enough to handle, I am the one who is failing and flailing. Melissa has been promoted at work and I trap her between a rock and a hard place regularly. I am in hideous pain, she can see it plain as day and she does what she can to help me numb myself. It isn't even the pain that will force the next crisis. I failed to hold on to money needed to pay for homeowners' association fees and property taxes. I'm not even sure that I paid the sewer bill this year no matter how much I thought I did.

For the longest time, I was able to concentrate well enough to keep the lights and other utilities on. When I started to fail at that, I did my best at idiot proofing the process having bills sent directly to my tablet where I could pay them, make a personal record of payment and then keep copies of their acknowledgements. The things I'm failing at now are intermittent costs. Doctors have to submit their bills to Medicare and then I get billed a portion of what's left. Simple enough for someone who is watching the mail perhaps but I do poorly enough just around the house.

Maybe as recently as a year ago, I would have told you that I could handle this just fine. Negotiating favorable terms in good faith is something I was able to do very well. That's before I got this sick. No matter what wonderful plans I make to pay back every cent, the pain will hit me and I will buckle. I will take a large bottle of whiskey, water it heavily and suck it down until I'm numb enough to relax and get the rest that the pain keeps from me. The longer I try to hold out at the start, the more I need to suck down to take the edge off so other methods might work. I don't even get to enjoy being intoxicated because I'm so tired that relief brings sleep.

At some point, someone will have to take a stand about me owing them money though I don't know exactly how that will work. I'm sure it will be fast and painful in the literal sense for me. The bigger problem is how hard whatever will happen will be on Melissa. She's going to stand by me and try to shield me. Every plan we have to cope under extreme circumstances has severe problems. Our escape route to New York has been cut off by circumstances beyond the control of our New York family. They have their own problems and the once inviting idea of getting rid of this house and finding some way to live up there was never very practical. Yes, Melissa's employer has stores up there but they are not linked closely enough to the Delaware stores for favors earned here to matter. Someone might start her at the bottom if we got lucky. The only reason why my regular symptoms don't crush me even without the tooth and other bone pain is the fact that I am on very heavy doses of powerful and dangerous medications. No other doctor would be able to start me off so far up the scale. My treatment here is threatened by the claws of the law.

Originally, I had this dream where Melissa and I could move to New York living close to our New York family and help them out. They have their own problems that I wanted to help them solve or, at least, hold out longer. They are the ultimate survivors up there long since putting me to shame so I don't intend to start a calamity watch (That's just meant to be a slightly less overly dramatic way of talking about a figurative death watch.) for no reason and jinx somebody. They should never have to be exposed to my failures in life right now.

If you glanced at any room in my house, you would think I'm some sort of hoarder but that's not the case. I am threatened on all sides by piles of things that need to be thrown away but I have no problem seeing the trash as such. My problem comes from the walk out to the dumpster. With walking from my chair to the kitchen being too much effort most days, there is almost never a time when I could walk bags of trash out to the dumpster. This has led to me neglecting my poor kitties in ways I'm too squeamish to discuss at the moment.

Somehow, I've wedged myself into a situation where I'm too sick to handle my current situation yet also too sick to do anything about it. I'm between a rock and a hard place yet no one has to worry about me killing myself. In a metaphorical sense, I would take too many people with me. (One is too many but it's more than one person.) I try my best to leave a positive footprint on the world so yanking that away would be wrong. Of course, I'm losing the argument about not using a permanent solution for a temporary problem. I will keep getting worse and nothing can be done about that. At best, I will be a worsening burden on the lives of others.

I've come to the end of this little essay for sure because I'm twitching too hard to type well. Things seem even more hopeless than usual. The next step will involve reclining and feeling the startling hard gut twitches of an anxiety attack. It would be easier to handle with a glass of something flammable but it's not in the cards. Don't feel sorry for me. Resent me because it's all my fault yet I complain anyway.

Oops. I forgot the strange hope. Some of it was practical but I was able to think of ways doctors and the Association could bring the pain. All that it left is this feeling that I've been through worse. I'm not sure if my experience will help at all anyway.