Abject Failure

The last time my computer battery went south, the Toshiba stopped running, despite the external charger. PhillyTechGuy said it shouldn't do that, but that is in fact what it did, and I am broke, and dirty, with renegade pests run amok, the power chair falling apart, lacking the funds to throw my laundry in the wash, even if I fold, and telephone welfare, the attendant I'd land would be someone as desperate as I am; it would not hold. SSI would give me about forty dollars, and it is stringent. Sell an article and I'm in overpayment territory, and when this becomes your entire life because your brain damage was just bad enough, what is the point? Where am I to find the resilience? Maintain my sanity? I am this close to cancelling my Medicare premium, rolling myself out the door, attempting to manufacture a fatal collision with a truck, which I do not deserve. My father's bypass surgery has put him on notice that it too is ready to fly south, and I am having headaches and seeing spots in front of my eyes; his sister, like my sister, is nearly out of her mind, and she thinks I have solutions to spend down. Throwing in the towel merely trebles anguish, and pathos is out of fashion these days. I would not wake to discover that Inglis House would gratify me. Regardless of what the state spent to refurbish the "wheelchair community," it was built not to be seen. It is a castle where human detritus is hidden away, drugged, mumbling incoherently on gurneys-- how am I to live like that, as opposed to an alternative marginally more palatable? Here lies spastic dowager, done in by bad intestines and deplorable domestic conditions, saying livid vicious things to bingo eyes and buck teeth in the sultry air of an unpleasant autumn. If this Jazzy in which I sit kicks, it becomes relatively moot, believing I can climb the fuck back out. I'd have to go away. I cannot fight medical rationing in an unsafe manual wheelchair for another 9 to 12 months because I cannot get past primary care physicians to get at the damn technology upgrades I need. Terms of service policies frown on "glorifying" negative behaviors invariably grinding down to the inevitable conclusion, but I do not see the dignity of enduring lifelong institutional nightmares, drugged into oblivion for the sake of unskilled labor. They left my right hip dislocated, the fucking crippled children surgeons, after destroying what control I had, cutting hamstrings, fusing feet bones, only to hit middle age arthritis just as ambulatory individuals do; barring a miracle, I can't hold the line that much longer, and I'd rather go down much as General Gordon did in his beloved Sudan, doomed in my own Alamo, because I fled to this city, obstinate ass wipe, cratered by her own expectations. The roulette wheel of our elected officials changes nothing of the obscenity of the welfare state, breaking me, breaking your back as well. Parents never see these consequences.