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Termyn8or -> My fall (6/28/2010 11:32:13 PM)
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I think this is going to be a difficult post for me, but in a way I think I owe it to my fellow collarmeites to say something. I am falling apart rapidly, physically. Despite my efforts relating to diet and such, I think I may be checking out sometime soon. To understand I'll have to blow my own horn a bit, but then compare that to my current condition.
I don't even know at this point how many decades it has been since I've been to a doctor. My whole being sits on the premise that the human body does not need maintainence, that it is a self repairing system. In the past that worked for me. Some may have bench pressed more, but in actually moving things around, there was only one strong enough, in my entire life to keep up. We stole a piano once. Now I don't mean an electronic piano, I mean one of the big wood ones. We could lift the back of a car. I'vbe been kicked in the chest and flew 20 feet across a room, and since I was sparring at the time I ran right up and said "Try that again" and of course it worked. After that it ws enough, but the first blow would've put many Men in the hospital. I used to lay on the floor and smoke a cigarette while a 200lb guy stands on my chest. I got shot in the face about an inch below my left eye and the .38 caliber bullet still resides in my neck, which only bothers me occasionally. Nobody but an idiot would even try to do some of the things I did successfully, like loading pieces of furniture onto a flatbed truck unassisted. My immune system was so strong that I never worried abiout a thing at all. You could cut me open with a chainsaw and I could pack the wound with manure and it would heal in a very short time. Even when I got shot I only spoent five days in the hospital, and they didn't really do anything. It was and still is impossible to remove the bullet. I never went down. I have been hit with several different implements of destruction and surprised people, much to their discomfort. The name Terminator was earned on the street, not on the net.
So off I go into my mid forties and I am getting lazy. I did have some back and knee problems but cured them with nutrition. I also stopped doing alot of heavy lifting. In a way I got lazy and I did gain some weight, which I didn't want. So I went on a low carb diet after a near starvation diet which pretty much cured that. Of course I had to normalize my diet after a time because you just can't do no carbs forever, we do need some. But I seemingly shrank my stomach and that suited me just fine for many years. My job became alot less physical and more technically oriented. Ass time on the computer or studying a print. Things like that. But my back and knees felt fine, and though I didn't do much lifting at work, I remained one of those guys you call to help you move. I could do it.
Though I was getting out of shape a bit, as is common with us decadent westerners, it wasn't so bad, up until a bit over a year ago. I became extremely lethargic, no energy and no appetite. No strength, and even my mental agility suffered. I developed a severe cataract in one eye as well. Compared to the picture of me you see I now look like a death camp refugee. Several friends have told me this. My arms and legs are down to about half the girth they used to be, yet I still have the gut.
I know this is not good. Now, the olman died about a year ago, and I moved from upstairs to downstairs. I was feeling quite poorly but those who helped me move called me into the bedroom when they were about to move my nice pillowtop mattress that I got for free downstairs, as I had thrown out the olman's. It was black. So we suspect black mold exposure and I have made sure that EVERYTHING came out of that room. All the furniture, the bed, even the drapes and the carpet have been thrown out and are new now. Everything has been scrubbed down and the walls repainted. The works.
My recovery started, which supports the black mold theory, but it has not been proven either way. But the symptoms do match quite closely to what I found on the internet. And my recovery has not been complete by any stretch. I now sleep alot, and I mean ALOT. This from a guy who used to close the bars (after hours, illegally) at about four AM and make it to work at eight every day. Now working fifteen hours a week I barely have enough waking hours to eat and do laundry. This is not right. I can understand the aging process, but in this case it's like I had about forty years thrown on in the last two.
As much as I like kink, bondage and such I don't think I am healthy enough any longer to engage in all but the lightest forms. For months I didn't even get my moprning woodie, but that has returned and I can also piss normally. At one time I was so out of it I couldn't participate in any kind of meaningful discussion. Things went over my head, that in the past would be under my thumb immediately. Like I was almost zombified.
I used to practice extremely dangerous forms of bondage, now I don't even know where my handcuffs are, but then again I moved. But I used to be adventurous in that respect. (to say the least) Although circumstances now do not allow for these things, I have no desire to do it anyway because I lack the confidence to be careful enough not to kill myself at it.
My first doctor appontment is on the seventh, after how many decades I don't even know. However I have never persued health insurance of any kind, so there are things I simplyt can't afford. It will be ten grand to fix my eye. At one point I figured I would just lay the plastic down and take care of it, but that went sour and I am seeking chapter seven because I really can't work enough. I can't see the prints and PC boards well enough, eyestrain gets to me. I also have no energy. Look for there to be some typos in my posts because I have trouble proofing them. Also look for me to have to delay a response to a longer post because I simply can'r bear to stare at the screen that long. And this is on a mercury vapor lit 19" LCD monitor with the brightness turned all the way down. I can barely look at a CRT for two minutes.
So my doctor appointment is not to fix me, it is to evaluate me for disability. That's the only way I can get it done really. Once pending, this thirty buck an hour dude is going to be in the welfare line, and hating it like you would never believe. In this state, once you have a disability claim pending you can get free medical. I was told that even though I might qualify, for partial medical, the costs are so high that even with my plastic working, I would not want to afford it. I would have to pay thirty five hundred just to get my eye fixed, and that is the discount rate, down from ten grand. They say it is considered elective. Elective my ass, how about you send your kids down the street on their bikes and I go driving down that street half blind. Is it elective now ?
At any rate I cannot function like this. I want to walk into the doc's office and say I don't even want your check, I want fixed. I knmow my job is ending this year. I am fighting to save my house and other possesions. I have cut backl on everything, even beer ! I mean these are hard times, but the economy and how it relates to my profession is not related to this disability. I can do plenty of other things. I can build you a house but you have to take it whateve size and shape it comes out because it is almost impossible for me to read a tape measure. I have the skill to build you a car, and I mean from scratch. But not with these eyes. I can barely drive the damn thing at this point.
Now I know at least one person is going to say that I am a whiney baby, and they never were able to this or that and they were just fine and I shouldn't be bitching about it. But let me tell you this. It took alot of hard fucking work to get to the point where when I punched a wall my fist cam clean out the house, leaving a piece of the siding on the ground. It took a hell of alot of conditioning to get to the point where I could jump on the hood of a moving car (hoods were bigger then). It took a hell of alot of work to get to where I was in life, between earning power and pure power. These things don't just come to you, they are accomplishments. I am still proud of what I once was even though it was imperfect. I was unusual, and very formidable. And the things I was enabled to learn because of my supposed immortality. Look down the barrel of a gun and tell the assailant "On average, only twenty percent of the people who pull a gun will pull the trigger, are you one of the one in five ?' and then shove the thing down his thoat. But then of course I had to retrieve it, as it was my prize. I lost many of my prizes when I got robbed a long time ago.
But now I can barely do shit. I do not want to live this way. It either gets fixed or else. I have no real regrets except for certain acts, but the way I shaped my future I was quite satisfied. I still have some strength of mind left. IT was gone for a bit but seems to have returned. But if I can't regain my health to a satisfactory level, fuck it. I mean that with no remorse, regret or ant depression whatsoever. Well I may be what's called situationally depressed ut I don't consider that a disease, nor would I want direct treatment, as it is simply a symptom. Thing are bad, if they expect me to walk in ther happy as a lark they need the fucking medication. I need mt wits about me because for me, it is LITERALLY a life and death struggle.
Truth is, I never expected to live past 30, now I am pushing 50 in August. I'll put my money where my mouth once was. Every step I am taking is to ensure that my sole heir can get my stuff pretty much trouble free.
This is a hard way to go because I know that many have not been so fortunate as I. Maybe I am a whiney baby but I think that is my right. I have become used to what I have earned. It is as if all my learning and earning has been for naught. And I will not stand for it. Perhaps it is arrogance in a way, but maybe this post can illustrate to others that you just can't count on anything. You could give me a billion dollars right now and it wouldn't mean shit, because I have lost my health. What good is it ? What good is anything now ?
Am I a whiney hiney for this view ? Do you see me as a stockbroker who jumped out a window during the last depression or as a warrior who goes out on the ice to die because he doesn't want to be a burden ? I have become a burden, I owe everyone. Back when I only owed the banks and I intended to fuck them over from day one. But now I owe my family and some friends. Family - I would fix their stuff so well they forced money upon me, now I owe them. I am relapsing I think into my condition I described, sleeping more and more, and more lethargic. Less effective at basically everything. I am losing it, really.
I guess I'll have more to go on once I see the sawbones on the seventh. Now remember, this guy's job is not to cure me, but to evaluate me for qualification to become a chack person, something I have always dreaded. That is bad enough even if they di fix me. The way it works, once I am pending, I qualify for help. Help is an anaethma to me and my kind. To ask, and especially to recieve is quite distasteful to me. But I have no choice unless someone wants to send me alot of money. And that would be the same damn thing anyway so it's no better.
And because I have enjoyed a good part of life, being strong and smart, agile and quick witted, outsmarting any opponent including the law, that I am a whiney hiney. That I am akin to the auto execs showing up hat in hand at the whitehouse after getting out of their lear jets. It is quite possible that some could see it that way.
What is my question ? Hell I don't even know if I have a question. Just throw your opinions out here and see which way the wind blows. I won't have any more meaningful information until at least the seventh of July.
But it beats talking fucking politics.
T
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