Sorry for the constant blegging, today will be the last day and I’m grateful for any small dollar donation; I’m just so goddamn poor and I’m new at it. There’s always a bill around the corner or something else I forgot about, and I’m not used to running so close to the edge with no safety margin. There’s an entire political party hellbent on punishing people who are already struggling. I’m lucky to have a well read website to bitch about it and readers who care enough to help out. Most people in my situation don’t. So, some good news, because things could always be worse, eh? I’m pretty sure the pain mentioned a few days ago is not a cardiac issue. I’ll still follow up with the cardiologist, but the symptoms have improved with treatment for auto-immune inflammation — which btw can indeed contribute to all kinds of health problems including recovering from cardiovascular surgery.
I haven’t been poor like this since college. There are many ways it hurts beyond the usual anxiety and shame. One of the saddest is the sentence of loneliness. Ask anyone who tumbled out of the middle-class if they are treated differently after they became poor and they’ll affirm it. Not just by anonymous callous Teaparty types, but even friends and family who have stuck by, who nevertheless are human and grow weary of hearing about the day-to-day humiliating struggle imposed by having to budget tiny things you took for granted, things as mundane as toilet paper. There are now millions of us facing these dismal, routine decisions and growing.
It’s as though you have been struck with a social cancer, consuming hope and tainting every relationship. It changes you and it changes everyone around you. Invitations to weddings or other events dry up, more casual friends drift away, romantic interests quickly fizzle out. It all adds up and eats away at your life, and you come to realize you are an emotional leper, as defining pieces of you fall away or have to be excised in the endless pursuit of survival. Small wonder most of those thrown into poverty try their best to hide it, or that some just seem to curl up, fade away, and in some cases quietly die. I’m way too extroverted and pissed about it to follow that path though!
On the health issue, that is good news. True, sometimes people like me get labeled as having a cardiac neurosis, maybe that’s what they’ll conclude here. I hope so. But seeing as how almost half of us will die from some form of direct cardie-pulmonary failure, it really doesn’t seem too neurotic to be worried about that, especially after suffering a major heart attack at age 51 and a potentially serious complication a few months later.