Another Day Another Nightmare

Another day, another nightmare.

I wake up after less than 6 hours of sleep to someone yelling outside - again.

They've started doing that again since around the start of May.

But we have things like the Street Response program now - why does this keep happening?

It makes me think I won't be able to do some kind of remote job, even if I finally get one.

It makes me think no one cares about people in pain, even the people who should.

It's not really a quiet environment - other loud sounds come blasting through irregularly - but I have nowhere to go and no other options.

This is killing me.

I haven't stepped foot on the sidewalk outside in two years. 

I'm just as worried about COVID as ever, and they say cases are rising again.

My prediction was that they might shut everything down again in June.

I could be wrong - I hope I am, for the sake of everyone else.

But that's what I'd guess would happen.

As I've said before - I've been under the threat of eviction every day for the last two years.

Can never just get a straight answer on whether I'm safe or not - and for how long.

Dangling off the edge of a cliff, assistance programs have had my hand - but it's not enough to pull me up.

It seems possible they could drop me at any moment.

Sometimes I'm scared they want to drop me.

That I've been deemed socially disposable for some stupid reason.

I didn't have kids. I don't have a family. I don't have solid connections. 

I don't trust people, I just have to hope for the best, and many seem to disappoint time and time again.

Why won't people just be human? Why do they seem so drawn to acting like monsters instead?

I also have no career in a traditional sense. I've got thousands of hours of work - stories and thoughts - I am a writer after all - but it's been so hard to keep myself focused, motivated, uplifted enough. I am always tired. There's always some kind of cruel distraction. There's always the constant threat that it won't matter what I do - no one will care anyway. I don't understand why I can't find a way to make money using the tools of my generation - tiktok, youtube, even twitch - but I don't really have the tech or pretty clothes, make up, jokes, ring lights, and whatever other resources I see the usual person with thousands of subscribers use to do their thing.

No people. No money. No value to society. So I feel like no one cares if I live or die.

I hate this feeling and I don't want to die.

I was just in tremendous pain for the past week.

Starting the night of May 1st, something on the left side of my lower back hurt so bad it woke me up.

All I know for sure is I was laying on my back.

My bed is broken and that part of it sinks in - there's a bit of the spring that pokes out and I have to use my blanket to cushion it. But that still doesn't really explain the pain.

On a scale of 1 to 10, it was hours of off-the-charts-begging-the-universe-for-mercy type pain.

No exaggeration - it was horrific.

It would come in waves.

Warning: this is going to get clinical...

Whether it was because of the pain or part of what was (is?) wrong, I ended up vomiting.

The first time was cheese, the second was the whole ass last meal I had eaten, the third time was cheese and some kind of lump I didn't inspect.

I looked up my symptoms and the first thing that popped up was pancreatitis. 

Sounded right at first because of the cheese - maybe my pancreas randomly decided it wasn't going to process any more protein or fat.

But the location seemed wrong - a tiktok video showed a guy who claims to be a nurse pointing to his sternum. This pain was in my left lower back. 

I realize everything and everyone said I should go to the hospital - but again - I've been inside for two years.

I didn't want to end up getting COVID because I had to go there - the sick irony.

I couldn't leave my cat if I had to be there for days for some reason. 

And my building had just done an inspection - when they did, they said some weird ass thing to me that also makes me nervous about having to leave my home - I'll say that.

I've had antibiotics so many times, I'm not sure it's best they put me on them again.

I always have to start over with my medical history because I haven't had one consistent doctor or one chart.

I also can't afford a hospital bill or ambulance ride. 

It was just a no-go. 

The horror level of pain continued through May 2nd. I wasn't eating and just sucking on ice cubes. I had read about "bowel rest" and this seemed like the best I could do. I started taking naproxen (thank the universe I had some).

Getting up and walking around seemed to help some. 

Using a body massager seemed to help (again, thank the universe).

I had to sleep sitting up, though.

I didn't see these markings on my back right away - like the dappled light in a pool - I feel like they appeared after a couple days. The best answer I saw was possibly linked to using a heating pad. I've since put the heating pad away for good. But at least it's not sepsis - which was a fear for a minute - that looks more like stippled red dots. Besides the "dappled light" markings, there was also three round circles - and I have no idea where they would have come from. Even if the weaving pattern was from the heating pad - nothing I have had circular rivets or anything like that.

This is starting to sound a little sci-fi, but I promise it's not a joke. It's not fiction. I almost wish it was, because then I wouldn't have experienced this fucking pain. It was truly awful. 

I wouldn't wish it on an enemy - though I do wish people would understand that level of pain is possible.

Maybe they'd be kinder to each other then.

Anyway, I slowly started feeling better and going lengths of time without pain - I think largely due to the naproxen. If it's an inflammation problem, the horrific irony isn't lost on me that I haven't been able to afford cannabis for a long time now and cannabis' best property is reducing inflammation...

By May 4th at 11pm, I tried eating again. 

I made quinoa (fiber) and thin noodles with shavings of ginger.

May 5th I had an avocado. Repeated the plain noodles.

I kept drinking water - putting a bit of ginger in that, too.

May 6th I tried to add a little cheese and had some banana chips - that brought some discomfort that was unpleasant but more like a 6 or 7 on the scale of things than the off-the-chart pain I had initially.

I knew I needed to try and get my body to expel waste - it hardens inside you when it sits in your body - and so I've been trying to eat as much fiber as I can. I have some ground flax seed that I've mixed with fruit. I've kept track of when I've properly gone to the bathroom, and yesterday (May 9th) I finally had a solid, regular looking situation (though on the soft side). Gross, maybe, sure, but super definitely human. I am grateful for every fart at this point, for real. At least my bowel isn't going to burst.

I'm not entirely sure if I'm okay. I'm not in pain right now though, at least.

It could have been the ghost pepper sauce - or at least maybe that's what made the pain so unbearable that first couple days. Maybe it was the glass I've been drinking out of or the caffeine packets or the peas were bad or something. I remember getting my groceries delivered and eating a lot of fruit over the course of maybe 4 days without the expected effects - and then the pain started the night of May 1st. I've been very stressed out for a long time and not had this particular pain issue, but stress might be a real factor. It might be a kidney issue, pancreas, colon... I've worried they tracked something into my apartment on their shoes when they did the inspection. I have no idea - could have even been a burst cyst in my ovaries or something I guess. I realize I won't know unless I get doctor confirmation - but at the same time, especially if it was just a blockage from stress constipation - I feel good that it passed without needing to go to the hospital. That's not a recommendation for anyone else - I'm just speaking for myself.

Now I've cut out the ghost pepper sauce completely. I tried a bit of curry powder in my noodles last night. I'd like to at least be able to have a little wasabi - it's so good - but maybe my taste buds are treating it differently than my guts (I read that's exactly what happens - your mouth tastes spicy goodness and your guts just feel pain). There's also a potential idea that I've been destroying some gut bacteria with all these medicinal foods - ginger, wasabi, pretty much everything in curry powder - maybe?

Anyway, I'm eating cheese again. My whole diet is noodles, cheese, a veggie (this time, peas) and I get bags of frozen fruit like mango, berries etc. I started getting some walnuts and I wondered if I had a kidney stone, maybe. I always had a 36 oz glass of caffeine mixed in water. I cut out the caffeine for now, too. There have been some recalls on KoolAid mix - not sure if maybe it could be a similar problem.

When I eat I feel almost intoxicated and then want to immediately pass out.

It's very weird - I haven't drank or smoked cigarettes for nearly two years. I haven't had any cannabis for so long I can't remember the last time I did at this point.

Food is giving me that fishbowl eyes, head change feeling now - it's very strange.

I am always tired.

Though the other night, on the reverse side, notably strange, I added this small packet of oatmeal that had coconut flakes in it to my fruit and flax seed mash. It might have had the smallest amount of sugar in it. I felt wired and energized as if I'd chugged caffeine. I couldn't sit - didn't want to - sit down and I spent an hour or so shaving my ginger and cutting it up for the freezer - a task I had put off. I wish I knew exactly what perfect combination of elements produced that result - I have been walking on this stepper thing for about 5 minutes at a time now too - another variable to calculate into my life equation.

To get a real answer, you have to consider all possible variables. It's not rude or foolish - even if it does make you sound like someone who has no clue...

I tend to think "what the fuck does it matter - who cares about my one, individual, little life?" and I feel the need to explain how this might be good information for people beyond me, for people in general.

The whole time, I genuinely imagined what it would be like to not only be in this pain, but to feel this way without access to a bathroom, without binural beats, without the internet to look up symptoms, without a body massager or electricity, without naproxen - just fucking unbearable. 

It must be even easier to end up in pain when you're sleeping on the sidewalk. To have nothing to ease that pain. Imagine having to leave your only possessions to go to the hospital then, and to come back with all your stuff thrown away (as I was afraid I would)... 

Just unbearably cruel. 

No one should have to go through something like that.

When people are homeless or even imprisoned, people who are not don't tend to think about how awful it would be to not only experience that situation as their everyday reality, but to have to go through it on their worst fucking day. On their most painful, vulnerable, sick day. How much easier it would be to end up in that state from all the stress that life would pile on you. 

It's beyond "unfortunate" - it's torture.

And I am so fucking scared that's going to become my own reality. 

I don't understand what I'm supposed to do to prevent it.

I don't understand how I can personally help - especially from my current position.

There are initiatives in town to house 3000 people. As far as I know, right now there have been 35 landlords who have pledged apartments for people. It's a year long program. I believe they'd help get people on disability if that's what they needed as well. Clearly the problem wasn't just giving people homes - there are AT LEAST 12,000 empty units across the city - but the question of how they'd pay for them once they were placed. The same issue I'm having now, even though I'm already housed. I just don't know how I'm supposed to pay for this without an income, without being able to do the janitorial or cashiering or budtending jobs I used to do - and if I am surrounded by awful sounds, I'm not sure how long I'd last even if I landed a remote job. I also desperately need a legit computer that runs Windows 10 or better. I thought I was getting help, but that seems up in the air as well. 

I am supposed to be a writer, an artist. I dedicated so much to the pursuit of that profession. I have come up with 8 viable sci-fi stories in the last two years. I've just been depressed, scared, distracted - it's hard to just get them done when I don't know what will happen tomorrow or if I'll even live to see them published. If it would even be enough to save me if I got them published. There's no guarantee, no amount of money I'm sure to get from the work - and I hate money, I hate having to live life in the pursuit of money - but I can't even fall into the magic of my own imagination, relax enough to write something that would be enjoyable to read - because the constant threat of social murder is always hanging over my head. The feeling of conspiracy that people just wanted me to move out of my own home, probably so they can fix it like it should have always been and then up the rent - and couldn't give a damn about my stupid art... 

Once again, I just don't know what to do.