Those who know me well know that I've been struggling with a phantom illness with no cure that has only been getting worse over the years. It has taken my life away from me, one piece at a time, despite a valiant (albeit often dramatic) struggle. The doctors are useless, sometimes condescending and just throw potent drugs with even more potent side-effects to attempt to try and smother symptoms. They don't work and often just make things worse.
At a hellish trip to the grocery store last night, I had to rest three times in between filling my cart, held in my tears from the pain while waiting in line (standing in place is the worst for some reason. Makes my feet and shoulders burn horrifically) and then, struggled to lift these bags up two flights of stairs. Once I made it to the apartment, I dropped the bags and started crying. I got my food but was it worth it?
I was already having a dreadful month, where I'd fought with a bunch of people I loved, struggled with adjusting to a new medicine (which of course, does nothing), suffered through two nearly unbearable flares (in the middle of the second right now, oh joy of joys) and just haven't been holding it together as well as I'd like. And I feel so goddamned alone because no one can relate to this at all. They can relate to depression, sure. And who wouldn't be depressed in circumstances such as this?
I get lots of support for the depression but excruciating, chronic pain? It's like I live in a different world from the healthy, from the ones who actually can go to the grocery store and not feel like they're passing on to the next life. And the fatigue? Sweet Jesus. It always feels like I have the flu, no matter how much pain I'm in. That sickish, exhausted feeling that makes it sometimes impossible to get out of bed or even lift your head to look at the television.
The one thing that I've been trying to hold on to is my apartment. I've a very solitary person and when I'm in pain (which I always am, to varying degrees of misery), I want to be left alone. They're my goddamned fucking tears and I refuse to let anyone see them. And financially, it has been very treacherous. I simply don't get enough income from the government to maintain where I live (I'm below the poverty level) and sudden expenditures always happen (especially with my goddamned car) so my savings is getting steadily depleted. I know there's nothing left once it's gone so that scares me. But it doesn't really matter all that much because it's becoming very clear that I simply can't take care of myself any longer. I can't maintain my apartment, which is invaded with dust, dirt, and food particles. I can't maintain myself, as evidenced by the grocery incident. Other needed trips are similarly impossible. When I sold my last car, my mom had to do all the work because I couldn't drive out there myself at the time. I'm still waiting to hear back from mental health on my therapy but it doesn't matter because nine times out of ten, I'll be in too much pain to go. Simply getting into the shower these days requires a herculean effort.
Ordinarily, I'd move in with my mom, in a town I hate and we'd proceed to kill each other because I'm the solitary type and she desperately wants to help, at any cost. But she got diagnosed with the same illness a few months ago (albeit at a lesser severity, for now) and already suffers from bad arthritis. She's retiring soon and together, we wouldn't have enough money to maintain her rental house. She currently lives in and maintains my grandma's house, which is really only big enough for her. The only other offer is with my buddy Bob and his wife. I've known him for most of my life (since I was 10) and his wife in particular would push to take me in. But their place isn't large, their basement still isn't fixed up after a flood and it's a really uncertain situation. Moving in with friends (especially married ones) is ordinarily a dicey situation but with my health being the way it is? I'm a very heavy burden being pushed on other people to take care of. I don't want that. Worse, I'm basically tethering myself to them so every decision they make about their future requires a concession. What if they ever decide to move? Or have a family?
The decision I have to make is whether this is all worth fighting for. People make these grand statements about life (hell, I've read a few in recent GAF threads) about how amazing it can be and how it's so much better than being dead. I beg to differ. Take away your health, take away your dreams, take away your chance to fall in love, have kids, have a family, have a career, to travel and stick yourself in someone's basement for the rest of your life to rot and you'll see just how much worse than death life can get. I'm also very aware that I'm not going to get any healthier as I age, even putting aside the progressive nature of the illness. I can't even imagine fighting cancer or something else nasty while just trying to get through the usual misery that I've been fighting for the last decade. Friends and family make the usual platitudes, about how there's still a chance if you keep fighting but they're not the ones living it. It's very easy to make blanket statements when you don't have a fucking clue what you're talking about.
I'm not afraid to die. At least, not much. It's just that once I'm dead, that's it. It's over. It's a decision that has to be made with the utmost of delicacy because there are no second chances, no do-overs. It just makes me sick that circumstances and fate have pushed me into a position where this is actually a rational, logical choice to be made.
Extra money wont hurt either. Although in the back of my head i still think the only thing I am remotely good at is "work", everything else not so much.
