Is there anybody out there?

Everyday is living hell. That’s what it feels like for me. I’m supposed to focus on my health. But how does one do that when they have no income? When they don’t have a roof that they can call their own? When they can’t afford to do what everyone recommends.

Every doctor wants different things, wants to give a different pill. Each with a list of side effects that mimic those I already experience; or add a possibility of adding new things that “other people pay extra for.” The list of requirements or requests by those that practice their field on me is rather extensive.

Firstly, they want me to take their medications; while this doesn’t seem like a massive or problematic request; consider in the past 15 months I have been on 215 different medications. Each having its own reason for being prescribed; each also came with its own fun extras. That being said; who doesn’t want to possibly experience nerve issues, especially when that’s already a thing that can be difficult to differentiate between the real and….

Secondly, each of them want a different diet. The cardiologist requests a low sodium diet, the neurologist has suggested one low in sugar, the speech therapist wants one high in fruits and veggies, the primary care proposes on that is a combination of no fats or salts with low sugar, the gastroenterologist decided that all I can have is air and unfried vegetables.

I get homework from some of them. Like my Speech Therapist; not sure why that’s her title we work on everything but speech. Some weeks I have puzzles I have to complete, other times scheduling, time management, planning a project, the brain game applications. The neurologist just wants a routine, something that is pushed by my speech therapist.

I don’t do everything; it’s almost impossible to do most of it being homeless, a routine is just a dream at the moment. One can’t plan for meals or sleep or anything else with no roof. So the pup and I manage as best we can. Few days here, few days there. Sleep when we can; eat roughly the same times, meds get taken in the afternoon. The rest just as it comes or goes.

The anxiety is better, I fathom; we just start walking when it gets bad. Leave in a quick push out the door. While physically my health has been on the up and up and is pretty good now; my mental health is suffering.

For this I write. A lot. Thinking about publishing it. The crazy journals of a guy and his dog on some wacky journey back to his mind… the thought is one that is exciting but terrifying.

On the discussion of doctors and such; the dog who’s catching up on sleep now must be woken from slumber; as we have an appointment at 2:30 with the cardiologist and since I skipped speech therapy yesterday, and time Management and all that are on the work list….

So now I shall gather my things, start the trek down to the light rail, sun glasses on, earbuds in. The dog navigating, distracting when the anxiety sets in, calming, forcing me to engage with society. So, since I didn’t keep a log of my foods, sleep or the works, I prepare to get chastised. And as for Max? He’s looking at the skateboard I found wondering how the hell I’m supposed to keep my head safe with the new toy…