I am under way too much pressure. I cannot handle any more doctors, I can’t handle any more housing issues. I can’t take any more of it at all. I am at the limit of what I can take, and it is no longer funny. Because I refused traditional treatment, I am now being treated like absolute shit. What is new, huh! I am scared, I am feeling unsafe, and I am more or less convinced that I am not going to be able to keep life as it has been, going as it needs to go. That means I won’t be able to stay with my son if I cannot make sure life continues quietly in my apartment. Whatever happens, I know he will be ok. People will make sure he is fine, and I will do whatever it takes to ensure his safety…but he won’t be happy without me around, and I will be utterly destroyed. But let’s face it, I was headed towards destruction all along anyway.
Of course my happiness and safety couldn’t last. Perhaps there is a last minute save waiting out there, a hail mary pass, an absolute out of left field miracle. Perhaps not. I have not been feeling well, but I can’t take any more treatment, I can’t do it, and I really can’t handle any more doctors. I can’t. They are really not kind to me.
So what now? I guess I live day to day one again. I make sure I am grateful for each day I have left with my beautiful, darling, kind, funny, intelligent and wonderful Boy. I did it all for him and would do it all again. I would walk through the gates of hell for the Boy, without a question and I have proved it over and over and over again.
My subsidy runs out at the end of the month. I was meant to be given another subsidy and was told it was all sorted and approved and not to worry. I was then told this subsidy had been ‘unapproved’ and I would not be given it after all, with only three weeks or so to go on my current subsidy.
I am now rushing around trying to find a solution.
The Boy cannot go live outside again, if I lose the house he will have to go and live not with me and that devastates me. I am not well enough for this. I can’t rely for sure on friends, it is simply not fair for me to presume they will help me out, I am not sure it is even fair on them to accept any help they offer. They probably help me a while longer, just as they promised to do, but that is a lot to ask of them, and I do not expect it to be possible.. Also that subsidy was meant to be ‘for sure’ too and that was taken away from me.
I am terrified. I wish I had the ability to trust but that was ripped away from me young and never recovered. After all, I trust and I get hurt. Some people don’t even meant to hurt me, but in the end, it is me that suffers all the same.
I think the doctors would have preferred me to get sicker and sicker on the chemo/prednisone/plaquenil regime. I know they would. And I will suffer as a result of not being the kind of person to do as they are told to do. I have never done what others tell me. I do what I believe is right and will not hurt me or other people. I am guided by my own compass. I have autonomy over myself.
Still, these are sad days and I am sorry to see them here again.
The sad thing is enough money could fix just about almost anything. That is wrong. Money should never be the answer to anything, but in this end stage capitalistic nightmare, it is the answer to just about everything and the destruction of it all too.
In other news, the mouse is still in the house. I see him occasionally in my kitchen. I know how he got in now – through an unclosed hole that allows for plumbing under the sink. I saw him go back down there. He is a clever one. He won’t go for the traps, he won’t take the bait or go into the tunnel so I can corral him and relocate the little shit to a park a few miles away. He is making me nervous. I don’t like vermin. I can’t relax and it feels filthy. I disinfect everything multiple times a day. I take out the trash to the garbage shoot as soon as I have any. Everything has been cleaned and moved and surfaces cleared. I am a neat freak anyway, but now I am at war with the fucking mouse. Today I get serious. Glue traps and poison bait. This little shit won’t ruin the happiness I have left for a few precious weeks before my world falls apart on me once again.
If I hadn’t become unwell, then I would have had more energy to make better use of my time. As it was, I have barely been on my feet since last winter. I have been so very unwell. I felt better for a while, but then could not continue with what was working for me, and so I feel bad again.
If any of you feel like sending me good energy, prayers, meditation, whatever good vibes you have, I could do with them, because right now I am beyond distraught. I will hold on as usual, until the very bitter end, when that option is taken away from me.
This is the End, my friends, but I will see that Boy to my very left step, my very last breath, and I will make sure he goes on to have as good and happy and safe life as possible. I have tried so hard to save him. I have tried so hard to hold on. I have tried through years living outside, through sickness, through unbearable losses and absolute torture I have protected him. He loves me. He tells me that he is glad I am his mother. I love him too. I am glad he is my son, but I wish I could make it all better for him, and not have to face a time when there is no more I am capable of doing.
Still, I have done it all my way, hey! I am still fighting the good fight, and I am not out quite yet. I am not done quite yet. I am not utterly beaten, vanquished, destroyed quite yet. Life is not just strange, it is also very very cruel.
I feel as if the sword of Damocles himself is hanging over my head, and there is no way to pluck it from that cloud, instead it is going to cleave me in two and leave nothing left by my bloodied and loving heart.