This has been a summer of anguish for Christina. Respecting her privacy, I’ve captured only what she has written about her physical state.

Please send some magical vibes my way. I'm really worried. I'm feeling bad I adopted Ollie. He hasn't played with another dog in forever.

This painful and scary thing has been happening. My tense leg muscles won’t extend all the way. They shake involuntarily when I stretch them just so far. They ache in the bones and I can’t stand for more than five minutes.

I feel like I could sleep for years. My POTS symptoms make it worse. Standing up almost puts me to the floor from lightheadedness. I can’t go upstairs without reaching a heart rate of over 140 bpm. I can’t make my bed or do laundry …

A sweet young man from Christina’s distant past has shown up in a way that seems to offer both possibilities and complications. She is weighing these on her delicately balanced scale of survival.

I'm broken. Van life has been painful. The van is totally unusable for two people to live in. I made it as comfy as possible with sleeping bags and blankets. But still too many metal hooks and bars on the floor that hurt, blankets or not. If the van was set up for living in it with cubbies and storage, we would at least have to places to put stuff. I've been trying to show him. Keep clothes together, food over there, electronics and charger there, blankets there, and dirty things there. He’s like where's my phone and just rips around looking for it and then it's messy AF, a disaster pile of crap.

So ya. Losing my mind. Gonna have to tap out soon. Can't do my life like this.

Thus far, most of what I have posted about Christina I got through stealth. She writes me random stuff at random times about her day and her life, not thinking I will use any of it in a blog.

This time, I asked her to write. She forgot, and then she remembered, and then she forgot … so what follows is mostly unfiltered Christina, as usual, but with encouragement to just keep writing. And as usual, I find her words both heartbreaking and wickedly funny.

For the back story, see the previous blogs. This update features what pooping can be like for a person with EDS, the hazards of unfamiliar hot tubs, a pinball date, and a motorcycle fantasy.

What shines through is the spirit of a woman who still loves life when some others (definitely including me) would have given up.

For most of us, “surviving” the winter entails discomfort, inconvenience, perhaps loneliness. For Christina, survival takes on a more literal meaning. She has told me that the cost of heating her parents’ uninsulated house to any degree of comfort for her body would cost around $1000 per month. This amount is out of reach for her family. There is also increased isolation to consider and the depression that ensues. As Christina already often feels suicidal, staying in NH in her parents’ cold house – alone in a small minimally heated bedroom – poses a risk to her survival.

Her vision, as it has been for the past decade, is to be in a warm place among friendly people. Her default – the apartment in San Pancho – is unavailable. So what are her possible options now? I can envision a couple. Maybe you can think of others. If so, please tell me ...

Oh my sweet sweet girl, I can close my eyes and see her in the pond, or taking a bow over and over without being asked, cuz she knows it's cool and she wants treats. So many memories. She always would just put her two front legs into the car, and peer back like, I'm your baby, I know it, so lift me in haha.

She could of course do it herself, not easily in her final years but, when she was more than capable, ya. It would just crack me up A big ass dog with its legs on the seat, looking back at me, wanting me to "pick her up." Half the time I'd just put my hands by her legs and back end, and she'd jump in. She just wanted that littttle extra spoiling. I soooo didn't mind doing it.

You may have been wondering about Christina. I haven’t reported since she left for Mexico in December. Many reasons for that. First, things kept shifting, so it was hard to know what to say about her experience. Then, as I began to get clarity, I felt that the story was just too depressing. Pain constraining her engagement in the community. A creepy guy repeatedly harassing her. A friend who promised companionship and support utterly abandoning her. A landlord refusing to fix broken things. The water supply running out …

So now, she’s getting ready to head back home to her parents in New Hampshire. This year’s trip to San Pancho has been … a learning experience.

Here are her words, which I have chosen from among her messages, describing her current state. And yes, donations are still most welcome and appreciated.