They had a nutritionist over here today, because I told them I was losing weight.
She was stunned that I was only spending $100/month on food. She suggested Meals on Wheels, but what Father Lindsay called cheap amounts to $25 for seven meals and I will still have to come up with 1000 calories a day.
She noticed I had cats and said "They're expensive."
She left by saying that I was hiding the fact that I was in physical pain very well.

I'm NOT giving up my cats just so I can have a few more calories per day. That goes for anything else that anyone on their high horse considers a frill for me (ie Internet access).
In case anyone hasn't been listening, I'm not gainfully employed, I'm in agony and I'm alone. Because of my disabilities, I'm going to stay that way until I die, staring at my four walls in despair and misery. I have so few joys in life, I can't do what I want in life and what I treasure is being stripped from me a piece at a time.

Why the h#ll is Doug filling me with hope? "Great things are coming," he says.

Like what? A cure for this damn disease? Winning the lottery? I don't see anything like that happening, ever. What can possibly fill me with joy after all that's happened? What can fill the black void in my soul? I'm alone. I'm crying inside. No one can fix that.

If giving up my cats or video games means a few extra cans of tuna to keep me alive, forget it. I hate my life. I hate living and my life isn't going to change. Getting sick and dying would be an act of mercy for me.

I'm going to phone Doug's answering machine and leave a message. Just two verses of that hymn. He won't know how much pain I'm in, of course. So much the better. He'd probably just "rock me" some more and that would be too much to bear.

There is a thing more crippling than cerebral palsy: the prison of your own mind.