Tiny author note:
I wrote this a little high on pain medicine and it’s long winded and you can see the self pity dripping off the screen, but I think I still want to put it out there. I think people should know how hard it is for some of us to simply exist. And maybe highlight how fucked the United States healthcare system is.
Today I sat crying in front of my surgeon. I had just begged him to help me. He isn’t the first doctor who refuses me care because of my weight. He isn’t the even 5th doctor to refuse me care. But he is the one who breaks me.
I know it’s not entirely his fault. The United States healthcare routinely fails those of us who rely on it the most.
If my life was a tree, my illnesses are it’s roots. And they’re dying. I know how melodramatic that sounds, believe me. But it really is a good metaphor. Everything I do, is tinted with my illness. Getting out of bed is difficult, so imagine having to shower. To have to transfer from bed, to wheelchair, to shower chair, back to my wheelchair, back to the bed to get dressed, back to the wheelchair. And then my day begins. For most ‘normal’ people this means absolutely nothing to them. For me it almost completely depletes my energy.
By this point I’m already in pain. My back aches. I will have to reposition myself every few minutes to try to relieve some of this pain. It doesn’t work. My knee feels like someone is driving a white hot knife under the patella. The longer I stay seated in my (wheel)chair, the worse the pain gets. Eventually I have a stress headache that makes my neck so stiff that I cannot turn my head side to side anymore.
This is why I usually don’t leave the house more than an average of 2 days a week. The other 5 days of the week are recovering from the days I do go out.
And ‘going out’ is just a cute little code for a doctor’s appointment. Sometimes 2 in one day! So exciting. I am fortunate enough to have some wonderful friends though who know that if we’re hanging out, it’s going to be at my house and extremely lowkey. For them I am forever grateful.
It breaks my heart knowing there is a surgery out there that could improve my quality of life tenfold, but my insurance company does not think my life is worth living. So instead of being a fresh faced 26 year who is getting ready for life, I’m over here wondering if I’ll be able to complete another loop around the sun. I cannot think of the future, because I am unsure I have one. I tend to air on the pessimistic side so I truly don’t think I have much time left on this earth. I’m almost okay with it. Almost.
My last ditch effort to live is trying to crowdfund the $16,000 dollars I need for this lifesaving surgery. If you are feeling charitable, please consider donating to my gofundme. You will also find a more technical post about what I’m currently going through.
Slightly longer authors note:
I really miss blogging about books over here!! Unfortunately, my laptop broke months ago and it’s like $300 to fix. I’m clearly currently working on saving money for a surgery I really need so I do not have the extra $$$ lying around to get it fixed. So unfortunately I’m currently only writing one two lines reviews on Goodreads and Twitter. But I hope to be back eventually!! 🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻
If you read this far you’re a true star. Thank you. I love you! 😘