I had finally gotten full movement back. Now, thanks to living in the frozen tundra, I damaged it in January and now have to have the anchor that pulled out when I pulled the tendons removed. (If it had not come out, I could have just waited till the damage re-healed and gone from there. But that is not how my luck works. It never has and it never will.)
I am not doing well right now because I do not do pain. In any way. I have already spoken to the doctor and told him that I am not going to do this until I have assurances that I will be able to get the pain meds that I need. What he may not be ready to deal with is that I plan to walk in with an agreement that he will sign or I will thank him and walk right back out. I am not going to do this again like I did the last time. They gave me X amount of meds and said, "Take ibuprofen or tylenol if you need anything more." I wonder if I should just drive back to the place the moment it starts to hurt again and stand at the door screaming bloody murder until my voice gives out. (as a former singer who used to have to reach 3000 seat amphitheaters with no amplification, I may be in pitiful shape these days, but I can still be very loud when I want to be.)
In short, I am freaking out right now and I want to run out into the rain naked until I die from exposure. But, that would also hurt and as I said before...
"I need help."
Nothing can make a collection of human beings move faster or with more determination than when someone asks for help. And, I am not talking about help with the door. I am talking about help with life. When someone asks for help, that is the signal to abandon ship. I swear if one wanted to win a foot race of any kind, just get someone to openly and simply walk up right before the starter sounds and ask the runner for help. There are times when I wonder if the word 'help' is just a construct created by those who feel about a second of pang over constantly abandoning their humanity in the name of comfort. One thing I can say is that living where I am now, at least there is no pretense about caring. The people here won't even look me in the eye when I walk by, so there is no expectation of any empathy here. Where I am from, they will lie to your face and act like they care about you and then get really vicious behind your back. At least there you got the benefit of immediate camaraderie, even if it was usually somewhat fake. Here, they just keep on walking.
What makes this worse is when you get this treatment from those whom you thought were your friends and family. They just move off as if you let out a massive fart and it smells like dead animals. Lots of shrugs and hemming and hawing. Why stay alive when there is no hope for any aid or understanding? And, BTW, I mean help that I need, not help that you decide I need. Regardless of my issues, I am pretty sure I know better than most what I need.
Having to get my shoulder fixed again, because I slipped on the ice and damaged part of the first surgery. Love living on the fucking tundra! Of course, I can't move because I don't even own a car at this point. I have no friends here and pretty much all of the ones I have had for a long time are unable to do anything because.... I moved away from them! Brilliant!! I am down to my last nerve and my last cell of sanity. And, everyone just waves me off. I guess I will have to run naked into traffic with a flaming chair while screaming the lyrics to 'Baby Shark' before someone will take this seriously. Which just shows how fucked up our medical system is. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to drive 30 minutes to go get fitted for my SECOND brace-sling so I can get my SECOND surgery and suffer even more pain than I normally do, lose an entire summer of possibly finding something to do with what remains of my life, and NEVER being able to lose this fat ass again. EVER.
Fuck this shit. If I were not such a fucking coward I would not be here to type this.
I apologize for this, but I had to share this photo with someone. I was re-arranging our cast iron when I decided to make a quick photo of what we have here. I prefer it for all uses. There are those who just cannot handle cast iron. That is a bit sad, but I always hope they find what they need. As for myself... with this arsenal, all I need is a good fire.
(I am so pathetic that I cannot go out drinking. I have no way to go anywhere anyway. Nor do I have anyone to go visit if I could. No one would want to come here. And, thanks to my health I cannot drink anymore anyway. What a way for a former rock&roller/actor/writer/etc. to be. I used to put everyone else to bed and then go grab a coffee and Jameson while watching the sun come up and waiting for the acid to fade out so I could grab some sleep before we loaded up the bus and drove to the next gig. Now, I am super-pathetic.)
So, every time that I have to explain/describe/refer to my health issues, people seem like they do not believe me. I have discovered that some of this is because I can go into details about the issue and how it affects me. I can go into potential causes and possible side effects. Why? Because I am sick and only a freaking idiot would have an affliction and decide, "Well, I don't want to know about this thing that is going to ruin my entire life and destroy me in every way. I'd rather just enjoy the ride with my eyes closed!" I am sorry that most people think 'Me hurts' is enough to go on. The idea that someone who might actually be worried about what is going on in their lives and wants to learn as much as they can about it is trying to lie or being a insufferable prick because they 'know it all' (which I have never said or indicated at any time) is, in my opinion, partly why we are in the social situation we are in today. The day I see intelligence treated as a negative is the day I cannot deny our country is completely failing, if not already failed. And, I see it every single day.
I always suffered from forms of anxiety, but have never had panic attacks until the last year or so. Plus, with all the crap going on right now... lawsuits, injuries, lack of income so my husband and I can get the fuck outta this state. (Which is a funny thing. I know with my many issues and my lack of wealth, there are very few states where I would stand a chance of survival without state/federal help. Yet, the prospect of staying in a place where it has become apparent that NO ONE wants to be anywhere around me makes the aforementioned not as horrible sounding as it may well be. That is how badly I do not like it here. Four years of trying to make a friend up here showed me that it is not going to happen, so why stay in a place where one is not wanted?), I suppose this is not unexpected. So, with all of this going on, I am now having attacks. The quad bypass may not hold up to this. The constant pain is not helping. And, of course, the greatest country in the world could give two shits about me, since I am not making some oligarch richer. Please just let it end.
The Democratic Underground has been a great place to come and read about things and have discussions about things. There are some people here that I find myself inclined to actually meet because they seem interesting. In short, there is not much here to offend anyone with a brain or a heart.
But then, I have to come to the site and be bombarded with "men suck' and 'it is all men's fault'. Well, some of that is very true, but ALL men did not ruin the world. In fact, some of us were trying to stop what was happening. But, it seems that means nothing around here. Also, I am a gay male. I am not the one who is threatening and repressing women and I am not the one trying to keep them designated as 'lesser than males'. But, I get lumped in with 'all males' when I come here. I don't know whether or not these constant negative attacks based on 'if you have a penis, you are evil incarnate' bother anyone else but it makes me feel very unwelcome. And, that is the last thing I need right now... or at any time for that matter.
This is something that is celebrated to this day in certain parts of coastal North Carolina. Back in the day, we would all drive down to Rodanthe and take part in the celebration. All that seafood! Although the tradition of Old Bucca, or Old Buck, was just artwork at that time, I heard older people tell me about seeing him during their childhood. There were presents, but not like what you got on the 25th. These were more personal and given as tokens of affection. A grand tradition that I miss terribly from this advanced age and geographic position.
So, today, January 6th, is another Old Christmas. I had a decent enough December 25th, although I sat alone due to my hubby having to work and our roommate being out of town. And, here I sit again... alone. Hubby is working and roomie is out for the night. Tomorrow, I take all this down and return the house to its drab, dull, tomb-like appearance. (We don't own it so we cannot do anything about it. The roomie/owner has the taste of an 1820s innkeeper. The walls are sky blue. The ceiling, carpets, and trim are all white. We live in Minnesota and it is not very mentally helpful to live in a perpetual snowstorm when you are from warmer climes.) I am ambivalent about this, as it really does not matter one way or the other. But tonight, I sit here alone. With my husband working nights and me having to be active during the day, we seldom see each other. I avoid the roomie if at all possible, which is an entirely different horror show. He has no idea how much we know about his machinations and how badly we want to get out of here. But, I have been deemed persona non grata by the government I paid into, since they refuse to give me any Social Security. (I think that this is their racket. They just hold out since statistically, anyone who reaches the age of 65 and requires SS will probably need a lot of it. Therefore, to make sure there is more for politicians to raid once they can the entire program, they know that people like me are doubtful to make it to claimant age and do whatever they can to hasten that outcome in us.) My husband makes to much for me to get a dime. He does not make much of anything in this two-tiered socioeconomic model. And, my name might as well be 'albatross' to him.
Speaking of Social Security, I have found a letter than I think the attorney who is supposedly helping me with my claim has been looking for. I did not even catch what it was. This has been months now, btw. I am slowly losing it. Yesterday, I bought some things at Wal-Mart and walked right out with only one of the bags. Did not catch this until I needed the things I had left later last night. I also find that I am forgetting to flush on occasion. Today, I forgot that I needed to do laundry. Then, around lunch, I put on some water to make some noodles, and then went to watch something on YouTube to await the water to boil and sat there for over thirty minutes while the pot of water boiled mostly away. This is not good. There is no way I can get help for this. There is no way we can afford something like Alzheimers or Parkinsons or whatever is going on. Earlier, I was sitting here in a daze looking at the 17 inches of fucking snow that we have here in the Twin Cities today. Just as I turned to look at yet another drift, a tune came on the system. "I wish there'd be snow on Christmas". I replied, "Well, you can come on up here, we did not have that problem!". I then sat here for about ten minutes laughing and crying at the same time.
Please let this end soon.
A picture is truly worth a thousand words.
Well, my future is so dark I need a searchlight. That hit me while listening to that song on the radio the other day. It also got me thinking... was my future ever bright? From this perspective, I would say it never was and I was delusional to think it ever would be.
Profile InformationName: Dalton Ivey
Hometown: The Outer Banks
Home country: USA
Current location: Minneapolis, MN
Member since: Wed Mar 6, 2019, 01:24 PM
Number of posts: 4,474
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