Stretched Transparent
Sunday, October 17, 2010
I’ll start by saying I’m not sugar-coating this entry. If you don’t want to deal with some negativity, here’s your chance. Just stop reading now.
Last quarter was pretty much pure hell. Outside of generally feeling like shit 24/7, I also came down with pneumonia. A deep-rooted infection decided to grow in the bottom of my left lung. I exhibited virtually no symptoms. Fever and fatigue, maybe. But I always feel fatigued, and I never felt particularly hot or cold. What symptoms DID I have? Crippling, breath-stopping pain. I literally could not inhale past a certain point, and any position, any at all - sitting, standing, laying, reclining - was, at best, uncomfortable, and at worst excruciating. Through the excessive application of some ibuprofen and sleep aids, I managed to get some rest, but then I woke up and couldn’t move or breathe. I managed to whimper or start crying enough to wake Luke up, and he helped me sit up. I thought a staph infection was bad. I thought having half my face swollen and pus leaking from inside my mouth and on my chin was bad. Well, it was. But not as bad as this.
We went to the hospital. Didn’t have much choice, what with being unable to breathe and all. I was there for 7 hours, and the total cost of my uninsured stay was over $8000.
I make $600 a month. Of that $600, $410 or more goes to bills. The remainder was usually what paid my credit card bill and bought me things that my foodstamps don’t cover (feminine products and school supplies, mostly). Well, now I make nothing. Every last cent I earn goes to bills.
It bothers me that I spend hours at work, earning money, and don’t get to see any of it. It bothers me, because there are other people who don’t have to invest those hours, that effort, that energy, and still earn money. It bothers me because I want to get a break. Is that wrong? I don’t think so. After everything I’ve been through, shouldn’t I be able, in my final 9 months of college, to invest the hours I spend working in something else, instead? Senior projects, or leisure, like everyone else? Without losing my ability to pay my bills?
I’m not stretched thin.
I’m stretched transparent.
I usually stop myself from writing most days that I feel like it. Because I start looking at who I am now. And I’m a shade. And I hate who I’ve become, and what parts of me have withered and died. I’ve resigned myself to this life of necessary labor, sacrifice, and discontent because I just can’t do so many things. I thought I could once, but having come to the test, I can’t even comprehend the problems.
I feel like I should cry. But… like writing, I usually tell myself it’s not even worth it.
I’ll start by saying I’m not sugar-coating this entry. If you don’t want to deal with some negativity, here’s your chance. Just stop reading now.
Last quarter was pretty much pure hell. Outside of generally feeling like shit 24/7, I also came down with pneumonia. A deep-rooted infection decided to grow in the bottom of my left lung. I exhibited virtually no symptoms. Fever and fatigue, maybe. But I always feel fatigued, and I never felt particularly hot or cold. What symptoms DID I have? Crippling, breath-stopping pain. I literally could not inhale past a certain point, and any position, any at all - sitting, standing, laying, reclining - was, at best, uncomfortable, and at worst excruciating. Through the excessive application of some ibuprofen and sleep aids, I managed to get some rest, but then I woke up and couldn’t move or breathe. I managed to whimper or start crying enough to wake Luke up, and he helped me sit up. I thought a staph infection was bad. I thought having half my face swollen and pus leaking from inside my mouth and on my chin was bad. Well, it was. But not as bad as this.
We went to the hospital. Didn’t have much choice, what with being unable to breathe and all. I was there for 7 hours, and the total cost of my uninsured stay was over $8000.
I make $600 a month. Of that $600, $410 or more goes to bills. The remainder was usually what paid my credit card bill and bought me things that my foodstamps don’t cover (feminine products and school supplies, mostly). Well, now I make nothing. Every last cent I earn goes to bills.
It bothers me that I spend hours at work, earning money, and don’t get to see any of it. It bothers me, because there are other people who don’t have to invest those hours, that effort, that energy, and still earn money. It bothers me because I want to get a break. Is that wrong? I don’t think so. After everything I’ve been through, shouldn’t I be able, in my final 9 months of college, to invest the hours I spend working in something else, instead? Senior projects, or leisure, like everyone else? Without losing my ability to pay my bills?
I’m not stretched thin.
I’m stretched transparent.
I usually stop myself from writing most days that I feel like it. Because I start looking at who I am now. And I’m a shade. And I hate who I’ve become, and what parts of me have withered and died. I’ve resigned myself to this life of necessary labor, sacrifice, and discontent because I just can’t do so many things. I thought I could once, but having come to the test, I can’t even comprehend the problems.
I feel like I should cry. But… like writing, I usually tell myself it’s not even worth it.