Wednesday, 28 January 2015

Bad days

I checked phone messages this morning and found one from my nurse saying she had received good news about my last echo cardiogram.  Wants me to call her about getting into another round of pulmonary rehab.  Supposedly I am a good example for others.  
Fucking depressing.  I have not called back and I doubt I will.

My two driver angels have a combined age of 160, bless them.  I can only ask so much.  Pete has a day job and problems of his own and lives 50 miles away. Thats it.  Thats all.  Nada anything or anybody else. Not one single other person, family, friend or acquaintance offering help of any kind, ever. 

Nicole, bless her, is fluently aphasic.  Look it up.  Ya, I know, She seems fine!  She does heroic work.  I love her so much.

Lung transplant takes financial stability.  We are bleeding at a rate of a few hundred a month for a few years now.  Got no more juggling tricks up my sleeve. We are fucked beyond. We will never make it.  I cant fathom anything anymore.  Nicole cant. Too bad. 

Takes a team.  Ha!  

I simply do not have energy for the stuff that has to be done for normal life to happen and I am out of options and people to ask for help.  

I dont feel good at all.  The sense of suffocating never goes away now, ever.  I am able to cope, though.

Sometimes being an infernal optimist makes no fucking sense at all.  It is hard not to be bitter.  I try very hard not to be.  Mostly I am not.  

Would have been easier on me if the test results had been bad. Then at least the ultimately unachievable transplant hopes would be done with.  As it is now, I get to watch it fade away instead. It could be mine if enough people cared. Lovely.  Rub my nose in it, please!  Sweet.

Last couple of months I run out of all my meds before the end of the month and do without.  I told Nicole this morning.  She did not know.  I am feeling somewhat angry so I know I am missing the ssri one.  Its payday!  Nicole will pick up the drugs later today.

I feel so fucking guilty writing this stuff but it matters!  I matter!  I am here!  Dont read if you dont like!  Tell me I deserve any miserable thing that happens to me!  Anything.  If you think I am asking for money change the channel and don't bother me.

I am still fighting.  I still love.  I am afraid.  Imagine rationalizing when you should die, when might be the optimum time for all concerned.  You already know you cant do the ride till the end. Thats a given.  Imagine lack of help and fucking money factoring into your calculations.  Depressing.  

Love.