I've been thinking about doing this for months now, and I've finally
gotten off my ass long enough to actually do it. I'm going to
chronicle the year I've just had and the year coming up.
For this to make actual sense, I need to back up to 2008, the Year
When Things Fell Apart. I know I'm not the only one who had a
complete lifestyle crash when the economy took a shit on us all but
I'm the only one who lived through my particular bit. I'd been on
and off unemployment and long term temp jobs, which do keep the food
and rent money coming in but don't include “luxuries” such as oh,
I don't know, medical insurance? No medical insurance meant no
maintenance medications whicih meant absolutely no concentration. I
managed to secure a truly plum position at one of the pre-eminent IP
firms in the Detroit area, only to lose it a scant four months later; thank you bipolar and ADHD.
No money, no unemployment, sick cat, nowhere to go, on the verge of a
complete mental breakdown, I held my kitty while she died then packed
my car and headed south. Back to Nashville, where rumour had it I
could find a job, some job, any job. Oh, please God, let me find a
job. I left Detroit in November, 2008, and headed south.
Well, I had a place to stay and I found a job in December, but not
one that was going to set any sorts of income standards. However, I
will always be grateful to the company who gave me the opportunity to
make SOMETHING vs. sitting around doing nothing, drinking, smoking
dope and drinking more. At this point in my life my self-esteem is
nonexistent, I'm passively suicidal and worst of all, the old lesion
on my left leg breaks open again from all the swelling and pressure
from my weight. The wound constinually drains and I have no
insurance to cover any doctor visits. So I do my best and try to not
freak out.
In April 2009, I get a much better job working a long term contract
with the Department of Human Services in Nashville. I'm doing
attorney-supervised reviews of appeals for Medicaid disenrollment.
The irony of this is overwhelming; I'm listening to bitchy appeals
using words like “entitled” and “owed” regarding medical
benefits and I sit with a rapidly growing wound that continues
untreated because I have no insurance, no money and nothing to use on
the wounds but Neosporin, with Advil and alcohol, lots and lots of
alcohol for the pain. My Advil consumption is running about 24 to
30 200mg tablets per day, on average.
I worry that I'm not going to have a liver much longer. I've had
this worry before, but that was usually because my friends and I have
slurped up too many martinis at some Birmingham bar. The wound that
started out as a two inch lesion on the outside of my left ankle is
now creeping around, and even more frighteningly, UP my leg. My
right leg is now also being affected. I lie in bed at night, sobbing
quietly, wondering how long it will be before this damned thing goes
septic, spreads more and finally, inexorably, kills me. Even the
hospitals in Nashville won't help me because I have no health
insurance and cannot pay for treatment in advance.
I sit at home, and I hold a paper bag that had once held books from
my precipitant flight south. It is a bag from Holiday Market in
Royal Oak, Michigan. I rock back and forth, holding the bag in my
lap, sobbing, tears dripping down on the brown kraft paper, feeling
so far away from home. I miss Michigan so much, it's a constant ache
in my belly.
The contract finally comes to an end on May 28, 2010. By this time I
know I won't find another job/contract in Nashville. I spent hours
talking about options with friends in Nashville and decided to do
something that Thomas Wolfe warned against in every novel he ever
wrote: I decided to go home again.
Wow. Yes, I moved back to Texas in June. Where was MY head?
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