Yup, it's 1:30 a.m. I have somebody coming over to help me with something at 8:30 a.m. I have a mouth so dry that no amount of water is helping it, diarrhea because I dared to eat a vegetable, a headache, and a racing mind that won't slow down enough for me to sleep. So I hope you don't mind my venting here.

I have aplastic anemia. You can Google it if you want more information, but the gist of it is that your bone marrow shuts down and stops producing all 3 kinds of blood cells. I spent 5 weeks in the hospital with this crap and almost died because it was discovered so late in the game.

Now I have to go to the outpatient clinic once a week -- and that's assuming all my labwork is fine, if I need a blood or platelet transfusion, that's usually another trip.

I'm badly overweight, but my health aside from that has always been pretty good. My blood pressure and cholesterol are fine, I'm not diabetic, etc. If you Google aplastic anemia, you'll learn that it strikes one in two million people. That's ONE in TWO MILLION. One in a million would be bad enough! One in 100,000 would be bad enough! But *I* had to be the damn statistic.

I am now on Xanax 4x/day because I am so f'ing anxious about everything. Obviously, I'm unemployed now, so I have no income and no insurance. I've applied for state and federal financial aid, but I found out earlier this week that the ***** who was supposed to be processing the paperwork had let it sit on her desk for 3 weeks, so I have no idea when or if any of that stuff will kick in for me. I worry how I'm going to pay my bills and eat. I worry about bothering friends to drive me around, although I've started to drive a little myself now that I'm somewhat better. I worry from week to week what my lab tests will show. The doctors say to expect a 6-month recovery -- that's with the drug therapy I'm getting -- but I worry the crap will recur, because it's known to, and next time for a cure I need a bone marrow transplant. I worry about paying for my meds, one of which is $1100 for a box of 10 syringes, if I don't get state or federal help. Right now I can't even pay for the $10 generic. I worry when people come over, because, although it's great to see folks I haven't seen in a long time, I don't feel well enough to "entertain" and even if they only stay 45 minutes, I need a nap afterward and am all stressed out.

I'm tired of worrying. I'm tired of not being "normal." I miss my job, which, although it certainly varied from day to day, still had a sameness about it. I mean, I knew every other Tuesday night I would spend covering a city council meeting, regardless of what else was going on with my life. There was always a story to be working on. I hate uncertainty, and that's all I have now. I don't know, when I wake up every day, whether I'm going to feel well enough to get myself out and run short errands, or be so exhausted that I can't even manage to get out of bed long enough to take a shower.

I hate to whine and ask "why me," but that's exactly what I feel like doing. I know plenty of other people have it a lot worse, but I'm tired of a thousand meds and blood tests and all this medical %#@&#!, and I just want my life back. Am I asking too much?



Candy