October 2010

Friday the 1st
I nearly fainted when I got my On-line phone bill. It was $99.83!?! It turns out for every one of those new deals to lower my phone bills that I made last month; they charged me $5 each to switch the service over without telling me. FUCK!

I got an odd offer from a website called People Finders today. I’d used them once before to locate an old roommate from high school a few years back and they sent me an offer to do a $49.95 complete trace with phone numbers and address history for only a dollar! I think I read it five times to make sure there was no fine print and then traced my first love Jeff Hostetler from years ago. It was a nice stroll back in time and worth the buck.

My leg is really bothering me. I took the surgical bandage off today and the cotton wadding that it was packed in was all bloody. I won’t get the staples out until Monday the week after next. I wound up taking more Percocet for the pain after trying to walk on it and it felt like the thigh muscles were going to explode out of the side of my left leg when I walked. So much for thinking I could just start walking on it the minute the operation was over. After massaging it and wrapping it back up again I gave up and asked my building manager Rich if he could come by my door while he made his package delivery rounds and pick up my rent check, because I seriously doubted I could make it across the complex to his office, and he said he would… He never came.

Teresa called this afternoon to say she’d bought me a 24-gallon garbage bin with wheels so it’d be easier for me to take garbage out-god love her. She also floored me by admitting that on her last visit she’d stolen the parking ticket 2nd notice I’d gotten from Ohio State and paid it for me… sending a letter along with it bitching at them about how I was told it was okay to park there as long as I had my handicapped placard on my rearview window… they apologized to her, took the ticket off of the computer and refunded her money! I wish I was straight so I could marry her. I cried to know that someone cares that much when I’ve been feeling so abandoned lately.

I spent the evening watching old “Rosanne” episodes while working on the reworked Amazon store.


Saturday the 2nd
Mischief got into a big canister of flake fish food and spilled it all over the livingroom carpet this morning. I was able to salvage about a third of it. I’m too far gone to punish her, and hours after she did it, she wouldn’t know what she was being punished for anyway.

I can’t find words to explain what’s come over me mentally. It’s like my thoughts and emotions are in a tank of water and they’re drops of dye. As soon as they hit the water they begin dissipating before I can capture them. This paragraph is the perfect example; I put that thought down and can’t remember what I was going to write afterward.

I’m so tired of trying and failing to better my life that I’ve found myself emotionally packed in molded Styrofoam in a package. No one can get in and I can’t get out, but on the other hand I wish someone could get in to alleviate this loneliness and I wish I had the courage to get out and meet new people and make friends again.

Sometimes I wish I could become an amnesia victim. If I couldn’t remember the wonderful life I had before all this happened, maybe I could handle this better.

My leg is hurting like hell. I’ve been watching season 1 of “Roseanne” on DVD in the upper-right hand corner of my monitor to keep myself laughing while I try to re-sort and categorize Jet’s General Store. I took a pen to a pad of paper and tried to draw a portrait of my sister Betsy and it came out terrible. My hand just doesn’t have the control it had before, so I gave up.

I’m doing that a lot lately.

Dr. Mind keeps telling me to keep trying to fight for myself and get food and financial help.

I pushed myself to assemble the paperwork to get county help with my Medicare Part B only to be turned down for the umpteenth time…. Twice in the last few weeks. So I’ve given up.

I sought out help for the dozenth or so time to get help with my utilities only to be told they can’t after telling me they could… so I’ve given up.

I’ve tried and tried to “re-imagine” or control my nightmares over the last five years only to wake up screaming this morning.

Every stranger is one of my attackers from six years ago. I hold everyone at arm’s length to keep them from hurting me… I keep everyone at arm’s length; which keeps anyone from loving me… of my loving them.

I’ve considered scrimping meals to buy a color print cartridge, printing up a bunch of obviously bad $20 bills and then intentionally get caught counterfeiting so I’d get thrown in jail. Some gang would probably beat the hell out of me or worse.

I’ve been working really hard on trying to refit the A-Store hoping to make it something I could have a source of income from, but for every step forward I take, Amazon sets me back two. No indexes, description limits that cut off the size and color of an item which means I have to sort it all out myself before I can put it on a page which takes up to three days per item.

I wonder how long it’ll take to give up on that too.

I’m going to try an experiment for seven days and assume everything will go right with my next GB/workman's comp check on Friday. Nothing will screw it up, because I’m tired of being a scared little bunny hiding in his hole always preparing for the worst.


Sunday the 3rd
I got dressed and walked/limped my rent check across the complex to Rich’s closed-for-the-weekend office. They’ve put the tarp over the pool and the leaves are falling. Over the last few years I don’t even notice the seasons change. In 2001 I drove through Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York and Vermont just to watch the leaves change and get a few pictures. Spring used to be my favorite season because I’d plant my balcony flowers and vegetables… I won’t even talk about what Christmas used to mean to me.

They say money can’t buy you happiness, but it does buy you freedom to enjoy your life.

When I got back up to my apartment I noticed an odd clattering sound that I couldn’t locate until I realized it was coming from my big 80 gal. aquarium. The thing requires two expensive under-gravel filtration systems with water pumps in two separate zones. The one on the right was clicking…. I know that sound, the plastic propeller inside it has lost a rubber gasket from wear and was about to fail. It would have to be the one buried under a 30-inch tall rock face. I unplugged it to keep it from driving the fish and me crazy and resigned to trying to figure a way to buy a new one someday soon.

Tonight’s the season premier of CSI Miami. It’s usually bad news when a network moves a show to a different night. I hope it doesn’t affect the show’s ratings because it’d be a shame. They’ve been talking about losing a major member of the team. After his diminished role last season I figure it’ll be Delko.

I cannot stop coughing. I’m bringing up whitish yellow phlegm and it’s dogging me really bad. Maybe I have pneumonia.

I tried to walk around on my leg without the bandage and it fucking hurt like hell. I’ve at least worked it to the point of being able to bend it at the knee so I can sit down in a chair, but it’s really sore at the knee and just above it. I have to bind it at night to, to keep the staples from catching in the blanket.

My one meal today was a cold can of Ravioli. This can’t be good, but I’m trying to conserve food. A force of habit that only yesterday I said I was going to break. I only have enough food until Thursday night, which means none for Friday if the check gets fucked with… so I’m trying to conserve just in case.


Monday the 4th
I was hoping for some good news from “welfare” about the call I made trying to get them to use my spend-down bills to help with the $100+ Medicare onthly copay, but no luck. I tried to call them again and I get the “All circuits are busy at this time” recording. I give up. I mean realistically what good will it do, when I’ve been turned down before, so many times? What’s the use?

I’ve got a pet shop up by Wal-Mart that I used to spend hundreds of dollars a month for supplies and fish at. The manager’s a good friend and in the past has sarcastically asked me to call ahead before I come because I’ve been known to buy an entire display tank's worth of Cream-cycle mollies or red swordtails on a whim from him before. I’ve tried repeatedly plugging and unplugging the failing pump in the tank hoping to free it but with no luck.

The big tank works as an ecosystem where the live plants provide oxygen and absorb carbon dioxide from the fish. The pumps pull the fish waste into the gravel where the plants absorb it. Without both pumps working, I’ve noticed the gravel starting to get dark. The bacteria will hurt the fish. I have no money to buy another pump so I was thinking of lowering myself to go over there and beg him for a new one that I could pay off a little at a time. I don’t think I can do it though.

The financial help lady from Grant Hospital called this morning wanting to know about my bills… again. She copied all of the ones she needed while I was there for the operation, but now some board member is asking more questions. She wanted to know about my Sebring Convertible, which worries me. I told her I still owe over $7000 on it, which is less than I could probably sell it for in this economy. I didn’t mention it only has 45,000 miles on it though. I tried to get her to clarify about help with the $230 electric shut-off notice and she said I must’ve talked to the other social worker about that… sigh.

I keep having these weird dreams about my car being stolen, but it’s never the car I have now. It always winds up being my Somolian attackers and ends up with my losing my job somehow because of it, or they chase me around until they catch me and beat me up.

My god what’s going to happen to me when I lose my shrink?


Tuesday the 5th
I went down to get a forgotten package of wheat dinner rolls in the car and started it to check the gas gauge… it’s below E. There’s no way around it, with the painful staples in my leg from my hip to my knee, the lousy cough that won’t go away and no gas, I’ve got no choice but to cancel Dr. S/Clinic and Dr. Mind. I can see me trying to push the car with my leg. Besides I don’t have the ten bucks for the clinic co-pay anyway.

I called the clinic to cancel and can’t get an appointment until next month. I hope the insulin holds out that long. No drug rep samples of my prescriptions either. If I could just get help with Medicare I’d have an extra $100 a month to buy my own damn drugs instead of begging for them and I wouldn’t have to near starve myself. DAMN IT

The frustration is getting to me and I’m feeling the old effects again. I wake up and sit on the edge of my bed and sometime around noon I realize I’ve been sitting there staring at the wall for hours. The same when I sit down at my computer. I’ve been trying to force out an article for BC, using one of my passions to break the writing drought…. Politics. But as soon as I start writing, I realize I’ve been sitting there for 20 minutes, probably with a blank look on my face.

I understand clinical depression, I think I know how it works against me, but it doesn’t help fight it and that’s frustrating too. I hate feeling sorry for myself and part of me says well stop doing it then!

If it was only that easy.

My leg still hurts to bend it at the hip and knee. I’m terrified of getting addicted to percocet but it hurts too damned much. A Social worker that was contacted by Grant called me to tell me what I already know, I’m making too much a month to qualify for help with the electric shutoff notice. I think I heard half of what she said and wanted to hang up on her.

Monthly Income:
#1 GB/workman’s comp $441.34
*2 GB/workman’s comp $441.34
Social Security Disability $347.00
Total $1229.68

Bills:
Rent $530
Car payment $296.81
Phone $75.00
Electric $115.00
Car Insurance $86.75
Total $1103.56

The above expenses leaves me only $126.12 per month for food and supplies or $4.20 a day. This is why I’m only eating one meal a day because I have to stretch what’s left for household expenses like toilet paper, socks, laundry supplies, cat food etc… with nothing left if an emergency comes up like a flat tire or getting sick and needing a $10 co-pay to go to a clinic.

Thank God I’ve lived here for over 22 years and my landlord doesn’t raise my rent every year. After all tenants only stay around a year or two, so I’ve saved him at least 8 complete carpet changes, painted walls and remodeling/upgrades. Everyone around me is paying close to $1,000 a month.

This is why I’ve all but given up.
This is why there are days when I want to kill myself.

I made tons of money as an artist, but try as I might I can’t recapture the talent or the drive to create it. Nor do I have the ability to approach strangers to solicit their art business.

The last art job I did was to design the CD case artwork for a local rock group on my computer.

It’s no wonder no old friends want to have anything to do with me; can you blame them, all I have to talk about is how broke and hopeless this situation is. To be in suspended animation or a state of nonexistence is more palatable than this.

Get a job? Wearing what? I’ve sold everything to pay bills that I own including all of my expensive business suits, I’ve got no winter coat, only a denim jacket after I sold the suede one I used to cherish. I own three sweatshirts, two pairs of jeans, an old pair of athletic shoes cut up so I can get my foot in them and a pair of cutoff shorts… perfect for that important job interview. Doing what? I’d love to get the job I had back at headquarters answering phones and dealing with customers, but I don’t see that happening.

I experimented again today with walking around without the thigh being wrapped tightly and it didn’t work. It feels for all the world like the staples are tearing open my skin. I’m going to have to write myself a post-it note to ask Dr. P/Knee for another prescription of Percocet… not that it’ll help, GB probably wouldn’t authorize it anyway.

Who me a pessimist?


Wednesday the 6th
To prove to myself how I’m not worried about GB not depositing my check, I wrote a paper check for the phone bill and mailed it two days early. It should take that long for it to get to AT&T and then clear the bank. I don’t have to re-apply for GB checks until November 22nd so I should be safe until then and there’s no sane reason to worry about it… so I won’t… I hope.

There… I did it.

Some assistant at Ohio State didn’t notice I canceled Dr. Mind yesterday and called me to ask if I wanted to come in at 3 this afternoon. It’s like one hand not knowing what the other is doing since Barb left. I thanked her and declined.

No hope with Medicare or Medicaid, everywhere I turn something else goes wrong. I need badly for someone to hold me in his arms and tell me he loves me and that everything’s going to be alright… and the loneliness. Year after year since the attack in 2004.

The one thing about suicide is that with it being this close to Betsy getting married, it’d forever remind her of it on her anniversary and I couldn’t do that to her. I guess as long as I keep coming up with excuses not to, I’ll be alright.

I must’ve slept on my leg wrong last night because I’ve been downing 2 Percocets every four hours for the pain. I’ve tried raising it, icing it, lowering it and babying it but nothing seems to sooth the pain; I’ve even thought of increasing the dosage but then thought better of it.

This afternoon was spent working on Jet’s General Store.

The dingbat social worker from Grant called and asked about the value of my car again. It’s like they’re trying to find any excuse not to help me instead of the other way around.

My caller I.D. unit that speaks the number of the caller keeps conking out on me; it’s probably low on batteries that I can’t afford. I’ve sold all my good phones, so if I’m anywhere but the den I have to get up and look at the phone in the kitchen or the den before I answer it in case it's a collection agency. I tried to fix it by switching wires around all afternoon and talked Aunt Margaret into calling me a dozen times to see if it worked with no luck… sigh.

The right side of the aquarium is really starting to get dirty and I see I’ve got no choice but to disassemble that rock cliff. If I can’t fix the pump I’ll have to tear the whole damned aquarium apart and try to make it all one filter zone on the other pump that’s still working. It wasn’t designed to filter that much water and would probably burn out eventually but what choice do I have? The problem is physically leaning down into the damned thing to take it apart would be impossible, not to mention hauling 80 gallons of water in buckets out of it and then into it again to refill it.

I went on line and tried to get the schematics for the pump, but it’s a sealed electrical unit that’s submerged in water and it can’t be taken apart-only replaced.


Thursday the 7th
I called Betsy this morning trying to figure out when it’s safe to call her. The coin has completely flipped and now I’m the one who doesn’t have to worry about using up minutes or a bigger long-distance bill. But I do have to worry about using her minutes when I call. We couldn’t talk for very long because she’s still entangled in wedding plans. Betsy’s the kind of person that gets along with everyone and it seems more and more and more and more people want to come to her wedding. God I’d give almost anything to be one of them.

I tried to fix the caller I.D. unit again today with no luck.

I went to feed the fish and just decided "fuck it"; what do I have to lose? It’s broken so I can’t break it any more than it already is. I spent an hour just pulling jagged rocks about three times the size of your fist out of the water to get to the standpipe that the pump sits on. Then I discovered that the thing comes apart, but in an unusual way. There’s a sealed cylindrical hole in the middle of the underside of it with what I assume is an electromagnet surrounding it. Another cylindrical magnet fits up into it on a vertical axle and when you apply power to it, it spins. The problem is the propeller that pumps the water is made out of plastic and after a few years the clutch that moves it wears down. I needed to find a way to hold the outer magnet out of the cylinder by about a quarter of an inch to keep the propeller from scraping the outer housing, which is what was causing the clicking sound and causing it to jam.

I experimented taking the axle apart and cut off a piece of air-line tubing to make a new gasket for it and after about two hours of cussing, I finally got the damned thing to work!!! I doubt the repair will hold more than six months or so, but it’s something at least. It took another hour and a half to put the rock face back together and to get the bubbles to flow up it like an upside-down waterfall but in the end I’m damned proud of myself. While I was in there I moved some plants around and divided some of the big ones into two to make it lusher in the tank. It came out pretty nice.

My leg and hip hurt like hell from leaning over the top to get to it, but what little percocet I have left fixed that.

Nick down the hall’s boyfriend showed up at my door with Christmas decorations. He said he was hauling them down to the dumpster on Nick’s orders and knowing how much I love (or at least I used to) Christmas wanted to know if I wanted any of it… which I didn’t. Then he floored me by saying he was nearly out of gas and wanted to know if I could spare $5 until tomorrow. It was emotionally crushing to have to tell him how broke I am, and I closed the door feeling horrible. I’ve never not helped someone who found the courage to lower themselves to ask for help and it felt devastating.

I clamped the headphones on, and worked on the General Store while watching Season Two of Roseanne. Four little chicken patties for dinner tonight.

I’m not in the least worried about the check tomorrow… just keep telling yourself that Jet.


Friday the 8th
I checked my checking on-line and the GB check was deposited just as I thought it’d be. The aquarium looks a lot better and the pump seems to be functioning like nothing’s wrong.

I got my absentee ballot in the mail today and filled out a straight Democratic ticket, did the paperwork and sealed it for mailing. Then I spent the morning deciding what bills to pay and what not to pay. The electric bill is going to have to wait until the 22nd, I just don’t have a choice. I’ll just have to cross my fingers that they don’t shut me off before then. I’ve done up a careful grocery list, let’s just hope I don’t forget to hit the gas station before I hit the expressway.
- - - - - -

GOD DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!

I was stupid not to prepare for the worst happening. NEVER-NEVER AGAIN.

At least this time it wasn’t GB.

It started when I went to the gas station and the pump rejected my debit card. The first thing that occurred to me was the thing with the car insurance and the weird routing number fiasco. I tried twice more and the thing said I had to see the cashier. At least it didn’t eat the card.

Inside we tried twice more to run the purchase with no luck. I’m shocked I made it to the station, now I have to drive on fumes back home and hope to straighten this out before the bank closes and I’ll be without food over the weekend.

I called PNC and couldn’t believe my ears. They fucking froze my account over People Finders charging me a dollar for that trace I did on Jeff and then re-froze it again when I suspiciously wrote a paper check for the phone bill instead of paying it electronically on line. UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE.


After nearly an hour of giving passwords and mother’s maiden names and the city I was born in I finally got them to open the account. They assured me there would be no bounce charge on the phone payment. Thank God the phone bill isn’t due till the 20th, which gives it time to ricochet back and forth before AT&T charges me a late fee or worse a bounced check fee. He said he’d reopen it the moment we hung up.

All over a god-damned dollar charge on my account? Every time I think I’m safe… every fucking time I think I’m safe I get blindsided from somewhere I don’t expect it. There are times I don't leave the apartment more than once a week, and this is why.

I can’t go on living like this.

I drove back to the gas station and like once before ran out of gas within 50 feet of the pumps. This time I was surrounded by begging bums all offering to help me push it for money. I think the terror of the situation took away from how much my leg hurt. I got the damned thing to the pump… and my card was rejected again.

I began to see stars in front of my eyes and screamed GOD DAMN IT ALL TO HELL at the top of my lungs, which I think scared the hell out of the bums. Fortunately I was the only one at the pumps. I took the card inside and the cashier tried running it and it was rejected… he wouldn’t let me have it back. I pleaded for ten minutes with the Arabic manager who barely spoke English and after two calls to PNC, I got my card back and got $5 in gas.

I spent an hour in bumper-to-bumper rush-hour traffic to get to Wal-Mart only 15 minutes away. Fortunately it was sunny and warm and I sat there with the top down and enjoyed the sun for a change.

In my frustration I forgot a few items I needed, but it’s supposed to be warm and sunny again tomorrow, so I’ll get them then.

I fell asleep from exhaustion around 7PM and woke up screaming from a nightmare from being chased by lions who finally caught me and I wouldn’t die while they painfully tore me from limb to limb.

I woke up just in time to watch Bill Maher’s “Real Time” so at least I had something to laugh at.

The aquarium looks great now… that’s something to be happy about I guess.


Saturday the 9th
I was going out this morning to finish supply shopping when what did I find on my door? A misdelivered notice from PNC bank saying they were shutting down my checking until I called them to confirm the stupid $1 charge on my account. Apparently it was mailed last Tuesday but since my senile mailman keeps putting stuff in the wrong box, I didn’t get it from a neighbor until today.

My five dollars in gas only lasted one round trip to and from Wal-Mart up north so I had to stop at Speedway and get more. I’ve got 14 meals and probably .13 cents left in checking. This eating only one meal a day is fucking going to kill me. The county is no help either giving me an insulting $16 in food stamps, which works out to a fraction over .50 cents a day. I forgot to mail my absentee ballot this morning, I guess I’ll have to wait till I see Dr. P/knee on Monday.

Good news, the aquarium pump that I repaired still seems to be holding up. I’m going to definitely have to ask the doctor for more Percocet and a prescription for the physical therapy. I can’t bend my leg at the knee more than at a right angle and getting up from my desk or in the living room is hell.

The damned cough I’ve had since the strep throat just won’t go away. I sound like a smoker hacking all over the place.

Betsy gets married next Saturday. God I wish I could go. She says brother Jim is still raising all kind of trouble about how he thinks it’s “sick” for her son Brian to give her away instead of him. He obviously can’t see the damage he’s doing. That and he’s bringing mom as a wedding present, which means Betsy can’t go on a honeymoon because she’ll have to look after our mother.

As useless as I think prayer is lately, I actually said one that it doesn’t rain on her wedding.


Sunday the 10th
DAMN IT. I went into my checking yesterday to check on how much I could spend on supplies and didn’t realize that the $5 I got in gas Friday hadn’t shown up on the account yet and I’ll be five dollars overdrawn. With no money left, I’ll have to use 3 of the remaining collectible $2 bills I have left to deposit on Monday, and hope it stops the electronic transfer on the car payment from bouncing. I’ll just have to go in in person before Dr. P/knee’s appointment and hope for the best.

I spent nearly the whole day sleeping, not that I wanted to, but it just came over me. It’s got to be the depression shutting me down. I woke up around 10 this evening and found some special purchase item requests from my BC friends for my store, so I loaded the shelves with them and hoped for the best. I need to get the damned thing done but it’s so damned time consuming writing additional descriptions and then arranging each page by price.

It’s almost as though Amazon wants us to fail, or just barely break even, convincing us we’re going to make money when actually we’re just giving them free ad space on our web pages.

Oh well, I’m just feeling especially cynical today.

It’s going on one in the morning and I’m tired again. I’ve got post-it notes up all over the place to remind me to see Dr. P/Knee tomorrow. I’m really worried, if he says there’s nothing more he can do, GB could declare me Maximum Medically Improved and cut off my benefits.

There’s an old saying not to worry about the bridge until when you come to it, but lately they’ve been collapsing under me without warning only while I’m crossing them.

I’m really concerned about how much I’ve been thinking about suicide lately. As I become less and less worried about the mere existence of heaven and hell, and more and more convinced that death is the same state of existence as you are in before you’re born, it becomes an alarming possibility.


Monday the 11th
The day started out with an early phone call that beat the clock radio. I was hoping to get to the bank, explain everything and deposit $6 to keep anything from bouncing, then make it to the appointment at Dr. P/Knee’s. His office called and said the doctor had an emergency and wanted to know if I could make it by 9:20. What choice did I have?

I checked on line and one of the gas charges hadn’t gone through yet, so I hoped I could get to the bank in time to deposit it before the electronic transfer on the car payment went through. Now it’s a gamble.

It was nice, sunny and warm this morning so I wrapped up my leg and went in my cutoffs. Dr. P took x-rays and you can see where my leg was broken and then moved sideways about half an inch, then bone matter was added to smooth the rough edges and strengthen the near elbow joint in it. My knee is all swollen again and he’s a bit concerned but said it should subside and is probably from the operation… let’s hope.

He said it was actually a day early to take out the staples but after a close exam decided to anyway. I told him about all the pain and he said it was from the operation and that it’d get better. I asked for some more percocet and he said I should be able to get by with Tylenol, so I’m going to have to ration what little I have left.

He also wrote me a prescription for more physical therapy, which I’m going to put off for a week because of how much it hurts.

From downtown I was going to drive about five minutes to the local PNC in Thurber Village, but the thought of begging understanding and help from strangers wasn’t going to work, so I headed out in the sunny morning all the way up north to the branch I usually did banking.

They were closed…

IT’S FUCKING Columbus Day! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I made the deposit at the ATM and hoped for the best and then drove home. I lasted about half an hour before I got drowsy and fell asleep until around 7PM. I’ve developed another headache to go with the unkillable cough I still have, so I spent the evening watching TV.

Reading over the last few entries has me worried. With all that can go wrong succeeding in going wrong, the thoughts of suicide seem to be coming more often and easier. I’ve always been a fighter and always found a way out of whatever disaster I found myself in, but the last six years have taken all the fight out of me.

With Betsy’s wedding coming up in ORegon and I can’t go, it’s getting even harder to cope.

I spent a lot of time on the phone with her when I woke up and we talked about how happy she is, and how the wedding keeps growing exponentially with each coming day. I wish I were there to help her. I dreamed last night that I killed myself intentionally so I could be her guardian angel to watch over her.

I guess it’s not a good idea to go without Dr. Mind for more than three weeks. I still worry and ponder how life will be without her to talk to after GB tries to take everything away again.

I’m considering calling the county one more time to try to get them to help me with the Medicare copay but honestly I just don’t have it in me… what’s the use?