No Phone, Next Crisis

My battery on the Apple 5c went fritz. It never stops, does it? I think my time with Liberty on the Rocks is done, not that a beer doesn't ease my ligament pain temporarily, but the wind gets sucked out of me, and if I surrender, this is what will happen: I will get inducted into Inglis House, surrender my bodily functions to minority certified nursing assistants, forced on catheters with plastic pantie underliners, have most of my every hour regulated, drugged eventually if not immediately for aggression. Whatever the renovations to the fortress on Belmont, the sterility of the little grey rooms haven't changed, the helplessly sick just staring at mounted television sets, and this is my indigent aging alternative, since the law forbids that I can put myself to sleep. What would you tell me, stop thinking about it and soldier on, shrinking and feeling discouraged? 

My recent exchange with Swarthmore made me feel trivial, insubstantial, despite the fact that the position was something I once did. What could I have submitted without even so much as a passing familiarity with The Bulletin? I have my mildly political topical op ed, a handful of medical bylines, conceded deflation in my cover letter, and had absolutely no response to guide me on samples, soldier on. I bothered Swarthmore's Human Resources department, and they've flagged me because I want to visit the campus, make contact, create another opportunity, and right now, it's impossible to do, even with a tone deaf refusal to take no for an answer.

I filed a damaged phone claim, have an appointment tomorrow, checked Google, powerless despite the fact I've remained passive with the old telecommunications giant. I suppose we'll see what happens. Cheaper device, cheaper plan. I'm worn out, simply worn out, and know I'm not the only one in a perpetual credit crisis.