This is a touchy subject, but I need to put it out there for comment from those who have felt similarly because it's been a rough month-and-a-half. Six weeks ago I pretty much knew for certain I'd lost my feline companion of 16½ years, Ricky. Neighbor had called me. Two weeks later, again on a Thursday, I had a heart attack, two stents put in the next day. Felt like I'd been roundly kicked when I already was down.
I'm in my late 50s, have survived with HIV for 21 years, and swore I would stay alive long enough to see my companion, the last of nine in 26 years, through his life. Much to my relief and satisfaction I did. I feel like, flawed human I am, I did the best I could with my commitment to him, to all of them. My cats, frankly, have meant more to me over the years than people.
My Welsh bestie and my cousin, who've had their own heart attacks, have told me I can expect depression for a while, perhaps months. I've had good days and bad post loss and post heart attack. Good days are okay. Not great. But I get things done and feel a sense of accomplishment at the time. Had a few days like that this week. However, bad days can get really bad for a few days in a row. For one, I'm facing hospital bills I fear may eventually wipe me out (as they did 11 years ago).
This sounds silly, but I know a feline companion or two would help me emotionally. I fostered one for a couple days last week. Returning him felt a bit like losing Ricky all over again. And there's another at the shelter who's taken to me as well. (Originally I visited the shelters just to get a dose of purrs and head butts). I feel insecure about my ability to make a commitment when I have more doubts than ever if I'll be able to see them thru their little lives, as much as I know they'd have a great home, more love than they could imagine and they'd be helping ME.
In short, guys, I need more. I need a reason for living and I just don't have it. I sure as hell don't know why I've survived the HIV, been given a wonderful new med in February and even survived a heart attack. For that matter, I don't know why I survived parental abuse that led to my CSA...and even survived that, albeit as an only partially functional adult. Nevertheless, I've done reasonably well with my craft over the years, but nothing that's made any mark. Now I'm just settling that I simply may not leave much of a legacy. And no one really gives a damn anyway.
I'm tired of fighting it all. I'm just plain tired. I don't see the cardiologist again until March. I'm taking the new BP, thinners and other meds. He wants me off the cigs, naturally. But I just don't see the point in prolonging the torture. No, I'm not inclined to take an irrevocable action. I'm more inclined just to let the next heart attack take me.