This is a bad year. It started bad, and it's getting worse. Well, maybe not for me. It's hard to get "worse" than where I was in January, but there are parts of my life that while stable in January, are falling apart now.
Both the vascular surgeon and my nephrologist have made it clear that pharmaceutical narcotics are mine for the asking. And not that cheap vicodin stuff either. We're talking the good stuff - oxycodone, hydromorphone, etc. etc. Although I've been slowly but surely weening myself off the painkillers, I find myself tempted to take them up on their offers. Things are looking incredibly bleak, and it would be really really nice to not feel anything for a few months.
I don't know where to begin to describe the frightening landscape that is my future. I guess I'll start with this house. The lease is up the end of July, and although this isn't the place I want to be living I don't have the money to move. Living on my own is not much of an option, and only has been possible before through the generosity of Ellen. Well her contract with Intel ends next week, and she has no jobs lined up. She's gone on plenty of interviews, but no one has hired her. It's unbelievable to that she can't find a job anymore, and frightening to me that the day is fast approaching - and may even be here - where Ellen can not only not support me, but can't support herself. She can collect 6 months of unemployment, during which she'll still be looking for a job, but the bigger issue hangs in my head and distracts me from all hopeful possibilities.
My mom is old. Soon, too soon, she'll need to be taken care of. Some very grim realities are way too close, and I don't know how to deal with them. I do, however, have a full bottle of oxycodone, a television, and the internet. Perhaps not a good strategy for dealing with life, but on enough pills I don't imagine I will care much.
But I haven't walked that path yet. Much like suicide, I consider this an option for another time. Also like suicide, I consider that path giving up. I've fought long and hard to live my life with a semblance of freedom. I may be dependant on dialysis and my mother, but that doesn't mean I stop trying to live my life my way. I've never surrendered completely to my despair, although I have often let it sway my decisions. Part of me still feels like if I were to lay down and numb myself out to the world around me I have given up, failed, and I will have lost part of me that is precious.
But part of me really just doesn't want to feel anymore.
That is, of course, only part of the picture though.
The brand new social worker at my dialysis unit has offered to help me deal with Medicare. Ellen got a hold of Mercury Insurance (the folks who insured the car I was in at the time of my accident), and they are more than willing to help us clear up whatever bullshit Medicare is claiming as reason to deny some of my medical bills.
Ms. New Social Worker has also recommended me to Occupational Rehabilitation. I don't know if they'll be able to help me, but it is possible that they can and will pay for me to go through a vocational school program to give me some kind of marketable skill. It's also possible they won't, but until I hear them say to my face there's nothing they can do to help me get a job it's worth trying. I'll be going to their office on Wednesday afternoon for an evaluation. It's unlikely to result in a job soon enough to pick up the slack for Ellen losing hers, but it may eventually result in the possibility of regular employment. That would be a welcome change of pace.
The biggest news is that I have been contacted by the transplant coordinator. Ellen and I will be meeting with the transplant team over at Good Samaritan hospital on Monday afternoon. This is it. This is where it begins. They will tell me if they think I'm eligible for a transplant, and what I need to do to proceed. I'm excited and nervous and hopeful and worried. You know, all those things that you feel when something potentially life changing is about to happen.
So here I am, at 2:42 am with just enough energy to type this out, but too much energy to fall asleep. Instead of drugs I've been distracting myself with my computer. Measuring the system temps, playing with overclocking, and looking at the price of third-party video card coolers. There are so many things beyond my control that affect me directly that thinking about them makes me ... well, want to give up. Swallow the pills, and wait for the end. It has to come soon right?
But I don't give up. Not for long anyway. It's not who I am, and it's not who I want to be. Not yet.
Both the vascular surgeon and my nephrologist have made it clear that pharmaceutical narcotics are mine for the asking. And not that cheap vicodin stuff either. We're talking the good stuff - oxycodone, hydromorphone, etc. etc. Although I've been slowly but surely weening myself off the painkillers, I find myself tempted to take them up on their offers. Things are looking incredibly bleak, and it would be really really nice to not feel anything for a few months.
I don't know where to begin to describe the frightening landscape that is my future. I guess I'll start with this house. The lease is up the end of July, and although this isn't the place I want to be living I don't have the money to move. Living on my own is not much of an option, and only has been possible before through the generosity of Ellen. Well her contract with Intel ends next week, and she has no jobs lined up. She's gone on plenty of interviews, but no one has hired her. It's unbelievable to that she can't find a job anymore, and frightening to me that the day is fast approaching - and may even be here - where Ellen can not only not support me, but can't support herself. She can collect 6 months of unemployment, during which she'll still be looking for a job, but the bigger issue hangs in my head and distracts me from all hopeful possibilities.
My mom is old. Soon, too soon, she'll need to be taken care of. Some very grim realities are way too close, and I don't know how to deal with them. I do, however, have a full bottle of oxycodone, a television, and the internet. Perhaps not a good strategy for dealing with life, but on enough pills I don't imagine I will care much.
But I haven't walked that path yet. Much like suicide, I consider this an option for another time. Also like suicide, I consider that path giving up. I've fought long and hard to live my life with a semblance of freedom. I may be dependant on dialysis and my mother, but that doesn't mean I stop trying to live my life my way. I've never surrendered completely to my despair, although I have often let it sway my decisions. Part of me still feels like if I were to lay down and numb myself out to the world around me I have given up, failed, and I will have lost part of me that is precious.
But part of me really just doesn't want to feel anymore.
That is, of course, only part of the picture though.
The brand new social worker at my dialysis unit has offered to help me deal with Medicare. Ellen got a hold of Mercury Insurance (the folks who insured the car I was in at the time of my accident), and they are more than willing to help us clear up whatever bullshit Medicare is claiming as reason to deny some of my medical bills.
Ms. New Social Worker has also recommended me to Occupational Rehabilitation. I don't know if they'll be able to help me, but it is possible that they can and will pay for me to go through a vocational school program to give me some kind of marketable skill. It's also possible they won't, but until I hear them say to my face there's nothing they can do to help me get a job it's worth trying. I'll be going to their office on Wednesday afternoon for an evaluation. It's unlikely to result in a job soon enough to pick up the slack for Ellen losing hers, but it may eventually result in the possibility of regular employment. That would be a welcome change of pace.
The biggest news is that I have been contacted by the transplant coordinator. Ellen and I will be meeting with the transplant team over at Good Samaritan hospital on Monday afternoon. This is it. This is where it begins. They will tell me if they think I'm eligible for a transplant, and what I need to do to proceed. I'm excited and nervous and hopeful and worried. You know, all those things that you feel when something potentially life changing is about to happen.
So here I am, at 2:42 am with just enough energy to type this out, but too much energy to fall asleep. Instead of drugs I've been distracting myself with my computer. Measuring the system temps, playing with overclocking, and looking at the price of third-party video card coolers. There are so many things beyond my control that affect me directly that thinking about them makes me ... well, want to give up. Swallow the pills, and wait for the end. It has to come soon right?
But I don't give up. Not for long anyway. It's not who I am, and it's not who I want to be. Not yet.