Sick where no one sees me

.
This entire lifetime has been bizarre, but currently, at age 62, well in a month 62, I'm in another weird situation, and as always there is no stability at all.

Working at home, sick as a dog, no health insurance so no real doctor care, so don't even really know what's wrong with me. No one sees me the days that I have to hold on to furniture to get from one end of a room to another, no one hears me moan in pain. Now I only moan out loud when it's sudden unexpected pain, the rest I've learned to live with. But even with only unexpected pain bringing up a moan, I moan a few dozen times a day.

Finally figured out why I'm tripping and knocking things over so much. I'm not picking up my legs when I walk, just unconsciously, because every movement adds more pain. So if there's a tiny thing on the floor, my foot still slips on it. A wire that no one else trips over, that I never used to trip over, now lands me flat every time I pass it. I finally figured this all out yesterday when once again things came toppling down on me in the hallway where I'd just tripped again.

Knocking things over is then a side effect. However, people around you only see the tripping and falling. Even me, I've been down-rapping myself for knocking things down all the time.

No one can see pain. With this disease, where I look healthy and strong just tired, no one can see that the inside of me hurts. I don't even know how to describe it. It's just, whatever part of me I'm using, that's the place it hurts, then the pain shoots out to everything else from there. So it travels. It's in the nerves I can feel that it is in the nerves, I've often felt the direct connection between stress, tension, and the pain.

That doesn't mean the pain will go away if you just calm down. That means you are in less pain if you are calmed down.

It's hard to remain calm when the medical world ignores what is happening to you. Lately I've read that the medical problems people in the Gulf of Mexico are having are similar to these weird PTSD quote unquote symptoms I've had, only theirs is likely from direct poisoning from pollution of the BP Oil Gush.

But it makes me wonder. Maybe fibromyalgia is really the result of inhalation and absorption in other ways of all the carbon pollutants we've had in our atmosphere now for way too long at way too high levels. Some people, maybe because of the PTSD, are more susceptible, so get sick from the oil products sooner...?

I've always thought pollution was at the root of this pain I've been in since about 1986.

But today, I'm so isolated, stuck in this one room I live in, unable to clean it properly so it gets dirtier and dirtier by the day. I talk on the phone to my friends, most of them live in other cities. Yesterday as I was talking to an East Coast friend who lives in the country, I was on the walkway of my building, looking down on the dripped tar, chipped paint, and wobbliness of the structure, plus the dusty trash that blows in from the street and gathers in corners, and said to my friend, yeah I wish I could come to visit.

But I don't think I'll ever get outta here.

Truth is some months I can't even buy a bus pass.

We still have birds singing here. They feed off the same trash that keeps a small part of the human population alive. I realize that because of this weird skill I developed of being able to type almost at the speed of sound, I'm trapped here in this place. Can't make enough money to get out, make too much money for social security to even consider my claim.

So I'll probly be typing here next to my bed for the rest of my life. Which will likely be shortened as to the fact I'm typing in bed sick when I should be getting medical attention. I mean, I'll be able to type when every other part of my body is not working.

I type to make a living when I'm crippled in pain so can't go out and get any other job. In a way transcribing is relieving though, as it gets my mind in the subject matter I'm typing about, and I get out of the pain for a while. It seems inhumanely cruel that a world would make a sick old lady type from home to stay alive, but reading a little literature from before 1940 you realize most humans have led lives of toil and difficulty, that's how it is on earth. It was only that short period of time- the return of the GI's from WWII and that thriving economy- to today. To today's mess the Reaganites made of that wonderful blossoming middle class, so now it's almost all destroyed.

I'm like a character in a Charles Dickens story, the aging woman, blind, still sewing buttons for a living, from her shack in the slummy section of a decaying city.

Only today it's 2010 L.A. so, instead of sewing, the aging lady types with crooked fingers on a computer keyboard for pennies a word, probly until the day I die.
*