A long, miserable night

Keep trying to sleep. I doze off, then the pain in my feet wakes me.

Aspirin doesn't do much for the pain, but I don't have anything else, and food stamps won't buy Tylenol. (Or cigarettes.)

Sometimes when I wake up, I watch an episode of Mary Tyler Moore on Hulu, to distract myself. I often fall asleep before the episode ends, only to have my foot wake me half an hour later. And the cycle continues.

This is turning out to be a long, miserable night.

Bedridden, day 3

So, today is the third consecutive day that I haven't been able to leave the apartment, because of my swollen foot and ankle. One thing is very clear -- my next apartment MUST be a ground floor one, because if these kinds of attacks continue to get worse as I age, and my joints continue to degenerate, then I am going to find myself more and more trapped in the apartment, unable to navigate the flight of stairs. I can't even do simple household tasks that require going down the stairs right now, like taking out the garbage and recycling, or checking the mail.

I've eaten no meat protein today, and have finished the last of my black cherry juice. I need to get someone to go to the store for me again.

And I still don't have any painkillers, and I don't know who to ask for help?

Each day that goes by, I am giving up more and more, surrendering to this life, a shut-in invalid. I am going to be forced to file for Social Security, and all of the things that means to my future.

Part of me believes that I deserve no better.

OK, I got to remember to take my antidepressants every day... I can tell I'm slipping after a couple of days.