Completely and Utterly Alone

>I have never felt more alone in my life than I do in this very moment.  I am in my apartment, writhing in pain, unable to walk without assistance.  I have called all of my emergency contacts and no one is answering.  Since I don’t want to call an ambulance, I am sitting here with a heating pad on my abdomin, hoping that writing will distract me from the excruciating pain coming from my uterus.  I can only assume these pains could be compared to childbirth though I have never experienced that and I never will thanks to my Stage 4 Endometriosis–the cause of my current pain.  It has been a long time since I have felt pain of this magnitude and I am at a loss for a cure. 

My prescription pain meds are not helping.  Screaming, crying, curling into a fetal position–nothing is helping.  The heating pad is doing nothing to stop the sharp cramping pains in my lower abdomin and lower back.  I feel the urge to vomit but I have already done that a few times and that didn’t solve anything.

If I were in Michigan, I would call my Dad at work or my sister, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.  I would even call my Gyneologist who would meet me in the Emergency room like he has done numerous times before.  But here, in California, I have no one.  I don’t have a doctor that I can trust.  I don’t even know of a good hospital in the area where I can go.  All I can do is sit here, waiting for the pain to subside long enough so I can drive myself to an Urgent Care facility and pray that my shitty insurance doesn’t deny me care.

So that leaves me with a question, why did I move back here?  My life has been hell since I came back.  I am working a job I hate, living in an apartment I hate and all for what?  All to enjoy the fires and mudslides I have endured over the past few months.  The evacuations, asthma attacks and car accidents from idiots who can’t drive in the rain.  Why am I here?  Why did I come back?

Why can’t I figure out where I belong?  I don’t belong in Michigan.  I didn’t belong in Florida.  I didn’t belong in Reno.  And I don’t think I belong here either.  People ask me how I can move so much–I am simply trying to figure out where I belong.  And it’s easy to move when you don’t have any real ties–it’s just me and my cat.  I don’t even have a set career.  I was a publicist, writer, photographer, photojournalist, and now I am a teacher–the worst job of them all.  I must have been a really horrible person in a past life because this life sucks.  I have an incurable disease that has me in pain every day–today’s pain levels topping the charts.  Pain that I must endure on my own–even my cat has left my side.

And I really want to kill the guy who is outside my apartment at this very moment with a leafblower.  Then I will follow up with the not-so-handy handymen who are pounding on my walls as they remodel the apartment next door.  My thin ass walls allow me to hear their entire conversation.  I should have stayed at my previous thin-ass walled apartment building.  I do believe those walls were actually thicker.  And soon the annoying children who live downstairs will be home.  The ones who run around unsupervised while their parents are on the computer.  They slam doors and make my entire apartment vibrate.  I live above them, I’m supposed to make their apartment vibrate.  But I am a courteous neighbor.  Or at least I was until I turned into ENDO WOMAN.  Now I just want to kill them all.

I hate my life.  All this ranting has actually made the pain subside, slightly.  So now I just have to find myself an Urgent Care Clinic that is fairly close and without a lobby full of uninsured illegals.  Wish me luck.

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