There’s a medical treatment I get every weekday afternoon. Because of Covid-19 safety precautions patients are no longer allowed in the waiting room with couches and chairs but rather must wait on the solid surfaces of the elevator lobby. I’m always a few minutes early, but even a few minutes is too long for my body to stay standing so I always sit on the cold floor with my head against the wall while I wait.
Today as I sat there waiting to have my brain zapped in hopes of stimulating it into better working order and out of the depths of depression, I thought about how desperately I wanted to die. I honestly cannot fathom a point anymore. Nothing works. A nearly countless number of pills every day, constant in-clinic treatments of various types, restrictive eating, expensive and frequent tests, several doctor visits each week…
Nothing cures me. My body is riddled with illnesses from my brain to my to my uterus and most of the organs in between, diseased through my soft tissues and into my very bones, and still new diagnosis are made almost monthly. Honestly, what is the point of trying anymore? I’ve fought the good fight and barring a miracle defeat is imminent. Won’t my final time be much more peaceful if I accept that and stop fighting? I simply don’t know how to proceed anymore.
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