Christina Update #14: Some Survival Options

Again, it has been a while since the previous update. As always, I find it difficult to witness Christina’s life. Harder still to write about it. Can’t imagine how hard it is to live it.

 

Yet somehow she does live it. And continues. And makes plans for a future.

 

One plan she made – and enacted – that was intended to assuage her intense loneliness was to get a dog to be her companion as her condition forces her to withdraw more and more from the world beyond her living space. She found Ollie, a sweet and loving pup, and adopted him. Several weeks into the experience, she is realizing that his needs exceed her capacity. She is heartbroken, thinking she will have to return him to the shelter for his own good.

 

Another plan, currently unfolding, involves surviving the upcoming winter. Returning to her beloved apartment in San Pancho seems no longer to be an option, for many reasons: the rent has been raised, the stairs are harder on her body, many of her friends from the past have moved on …

 

The remaining dilemma: How will Christina survive the winter? This is a real concern. For those of us who are more able-bodied, we speak of surviving the winter metaphorically, acknowledging that we will be uncomfortable, inconvenienced, perhaps a bit lonely.

 

For Christina, survival takes on a more literal meaning. For example, she has told me that the cost of heating her parents’ uninsulated house, where she currently lives, to any degree of comfort for her body, would cost around $1000 per month. Not only is this amount out of reach for her family, but her parents have adapted to the cold and customarily heat their home little if at all.

 

So there is the expense factor.

 

There is also increased isolation to consider and the depression that ensues, in Christina’s case. As she 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.

 

While I would support a decision on her part to end her life, I recognize the difference between her choosing to do so with clarity versus being driven towards suicide out of utter despair. Part of my intent in my relationship with her is to help her to maintain the opportunity to make clear choices – especially as her choices are quite literally for life or death.

 

So … how will Christina survive the winter?

 

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 where can she possibly be now? What options are available to explore?

 

I can envision a couple. Maybe you, reader, can think of others. If so, please tell me.

 

Option 1: There’s an elder or a disabled person with an extra room who needs a companion. Christina has demonstrated her compassionate heart towards others and is – for the most part – capable of attending to small care needs. At the very least, she can be on-site eyes and ears for alerting family members if help is needed.

 

Option 2: There’s a safe, accessible space not being currently used that she could occupy. I can spare $300/month from my income to support this as rent. The donations from my online movement events can add a bit to this amount for food. Her parents may be able to contribute some as well. As you learned in previous blog entries, she can no longer work and, thus far, she receives no benefits from the state.

 

Christina is looking at other options, of course, but I don’t hold much hope for them, as her world – and the people in it – have dwindled as EDS has taken over her life.

 

After reading this, do you have ideas? Do you know of a situation or an opportunity for connection?

 

I pray that this message will help Christina survive another winter. It will be her 40th.

ChristinaKathryn Thomas