Five days I’ve lived since commiting to die, since calling a national hotline, my first time ever. Stuck in the rural South, My dogs and the North wind keep watch with me, watchers for the morning. I wrapmy knee in ice. It’s disintigrating from a 980’s Surgery…the sutures, tiny lengths o fibrous black, rose through my skin to the surface. And now the ligaments are tearing away. My surgeon died decades ago. My SI Joints’ ligaments stretched in an industrial accident, permit the whole set of bones to wrench away from each other. Favoring the right knee makes it worse. I think I may have dislocated some cards in my laptop, when I slammed it shut in rage. My 18 lbs dog refused to come in, and my pain stabbed me and twisted the blade.
But now, I wrap my leg and knee in ice and get ready to go clear out a storage unit…while my grown sons sleep, dreaming of anxieties and troubles of their own. It is not their job to take care of me. I never want them to. And when I die, I want them to live, thrive.
I cry. I am so tired. I beg for death. Yet, a cruel society would incarcirate me, when any one of us would mercifully shoot an unsalvalgeably (insalvageably…wish I had that computer now) injured rabbit, screaming from his pain and begging for death. We pity rabbits more than humans. What business of it is the governments if I live or die? For divinities sake! Charge the damn estate, if it costs that much to toss my body into a common grave…like Mozart. I would at least be in good compny.
Alas, I rise to begin the struggle to live through day five, of non-death in the abyss.