A few nice people seem to feel a need to know how I'm doing. They've suggested that they want to know what's going on around here.
No they don't.
I don't really want to go into ugly details, but things are coming to a head here, and the prognosis is not especially promising.
Let me make a few points, as cryptically as possible:
1. I'm now quite convinced that the hospital stay in late February/early March left me with some lasting changes. I wonder, in fact, if it took longer to revive me than I've been led to believe and that popped a fuse or two in my head. No matter the cause, I've lost some critical faculities, and they negatively affect my ability to do my work;
2. What little work I've got to do isn't helping. Frankly, it's all crap stuff, interesting enough if I had a flow of the "normal" writing assignments I've grown accustomed to over the years (all of which seem to go to other writers) but impossible to deal with when it's my sole diet;
3. I am, and always have been, lousy at getting anyone to cooperate with me. Quite a while ago, I hatched a plan to get a regular and steady sale of "mainstream" writing going in my field of expertise, but when I reached out to those whose forte is selling (I couldn't sell water on a desert island, believe me, so I thought combining my expertise at what I do with the expertise of someone who knows how to represent a product/service made sense) and even offered what I consider a generous percentage of the take to anyone who could, shall we say, pimp my product, I got encouraging words but no action;
4. Allied with #3 is my inability to find help when needed. This is strange; the hospital told me there were programs out there to assist me in paying/reducing my staggering bill. I contacted the relevant agencies and found, for a variety of reasons including not being totally incapacitated, not having children, not having had a credit card to put the bills on and a couple of others I would be branded a racist for repeating, I'm not eligible.
Some people have helped. None of them were those who can really afford it. I understand that; I've done the same a few times (though not as often as I'd like). Through my work, I have met dozens of people who could easily assist in getting me back on my feet and alleviating my total financial meltdown without even noticing it; none, of course, have stepped up. I guess that's how they got wealthy.
PARENTHETICAL I-HAVE-TO-SAY-THIS NOTE: I fear that the mere mention of the financial woes that make up 99% of my misery right now will prompt those same wonderful people who have previously come through to think about trying to help again. That would, frankly, only increase my misery.
5. The "if-only" factor is weighing me down as well. And this is mainly self-loathing: if only I hadn't made this or that decision (and we can take this back some 30-35 years, at least) I wouldn't be in this position right now, this hole I have spent so many years digging. I can't seem to stop kicking myself for a long, long line of screw-ups. That doesn't help, even if it's all true. I am most bitter about my own failures.
I haven't done much work in recent months. This was not exactly what I'd call a "break" from the routine, as most of the time has been spent berating myself for messing up and feeling ever more frustrated because I couldn't write down the thoughts I wanted to (and, as much as anyone has paid, get paid to) express. Even writing entries here is a far more aggravating and time-consuming process than it used to be.
You're all fortunate I'm not doing a podcast; talking isn't easy for me these days, either. Anything much beyond simple sentences can reduce me to a stuttering, frustrated bundle of red-faced nerves.
PARENTHETICAL I'VE-BEEN-TO-THE-DOCTOR-THANK-YOU THOUGHT: I've mentioned this to the doc, but somehow I managed to pass all the basic tests he put me through to gauge my state. It's strange, and unpleasant.
I suppose I could have avoided all this by simply staying indoors on that February day when I died. I could have not brought my condition to my neighbors' attention; then, they would not have called 911 and nature would have taken its course, for better or worse.
Damn. This is horrible, personally embarrassing and not at all cryptic. I don't even know if a miracle (and who gets those? not me) would do more than postpone the misery.
I may delete this shortly and post some pictures from today so all y'all will think everything is fine.
3 hours ago