On my way down, it’s a challenge to be happy. I struggle with feelings of hopelessness, helplessness, and being a burden to family and friends.
My future sucks. Hard as I try, I don’t see myself finding happiness or peace of mind. I ask, what should I do? Should I continue to exist for those scattered breadcrumbs of solace? Or should I make sure this is my last landing?
No therapy. The timing is not good. I have to put my health on the backburner for now. I had a depressed area under my right arm (right axilla). Last year, I showed my PCP, who didn’t even touch it. Today it is more pronounced, more extensive with swelling and awareness of its’ presence. My PCP did not chart it in her notes, but I did in my messages to her.
I thought I had a visit yesterday, but it’s on November 15. What do I say to the PCP? The chart, the sacred record of evidence, is controlled by institutions that do harm and then easily alter the records. Massachusetts makes it easy as no entity truly protects patients who look like me. Will I get better care in Texas? Anything is better than the care I received here.
We talk about medical errors being the third largest cause of death, but I don’t know the racial breakdown. Medical errors also cause morbidity that results in permanent disabilities. That’s not discussed much. What is the racial analysis of medical mistakes that result in mortality And morbidity in the US?
I want to land hard and never get up. That could be everlasting peace.