I'm A Loser Baby

Losing that living feeling

Being called a loser back in grade school or high school was devastating. If you were labeled a loser, your chances of not being abused and bullied were pretty slim. Fortunately, I was lucky; I don’t recall ever being called a loser or feeling like one - until now - until I lost everything. That’s right. I’m a loser. I’m not a loser as a person; in other words, I’m not calling myself a loser because I feel I’m unworthy or lack self-esteem. I’m calling myself a loser because I have, over time, lost everything that truly mattered. For instance, I began losing my health at the age of 22 when I was first diagnosed with Psoriatic Arthritis. I’m now 53, living with a dozen or so illnesses. During those 30 years, my body has lost two hips, cervical vertebrae to fusion, cartilage, range of motion, flexibility, strength, posture, stamina, energy, and a little hair. Various joints, although still original, have lost their ability to function normally and move pain-free. That and the many other ailments I suffer from, including IBS and Sjögren’s Syndrome, have seriously contributed to me losing quality of life, having to continuously and prematurely surrender things to the “I can’t do that anymore” pile. And there have been moments where I felt as if I was losing my mind, and to some extent, I have. When your life disintegrates, your mind isn’t too far behind.

More recently, I lost that which was most precious and valuable to me: my wife Sherrie and my home. We did not, in fact, lose the home but were forced to sell it due to the crushing debt we had found ourselves in. But I consider it losing my home. We had been living there for 17 years and truly made it “our home.” I will never have a home like that again. That was it. That was the high point in terms of being at my most comfortable, happy, and content. Those days are now gone, and I will NEVER live that again. It’s what makes me the saddest. That, and how sick I have become and how compromised I am, have pushed me to the limit regarding wanting to live or die.

Regrets, I’ve had a few

It hurts to write this when you realize it’s about yourself. All I can say is that I deeply regret having sold my house and left Sherrie. Maybe there were other options? Maybe, because of the distance that had formed between us, I could not see them at the time. Perhaps we could have made a rentable bachelor downstairs and rented out the space to pay our mortgage. Could we have made it work? I don’t know. Physically, caring for a property of that size with an in-ground swimming pool and hot tub had become impossible for me. We would have had to hire help, but could we afford that? Probably not. But I would still have my hot tub, something I miss every day. Or we could have purchased a much smaller home in the same town, seeing as we both loved living there. In hindsight, I had options; I picked the one that has painted me into a corner all by myself, with NO ONE to be there for me. I was a fool. We are both unhappy where we are now.

Had we stayed together, despite our problems, I’d still have a loving and caring wife at my side. I believe that in a marriage or serious relationship, if a partner falls ill, it is incumbent upon the other one to help them. It’s in the vows “in sickness and in health.” That’s the deal when you get married. We both honored that. We took care of each other when the other one was in need. My needs grew considerably in the last few years as my health continued to deteriorate, and Sherrie stood up to the plate. It was tough on both of us, but she was there for me. 

Die-hard

Every day I pine over these losses. I break down and sob uncontrollably. I talk to myself out loud, and I repeat things like, "I'm so alone," "I'm so lonely," or "I miss my wife, and "I want to go home," knowing that I will never ever go home. Where I'm living now is not home. It's just a dwelling—a place to stay alive. Speaking of staying alive, I want to die most days because my life is so hard regarding my health and because I have lost practically everything that makes life worth living. Just to be clear, when I say I want to die, what I mean is I'd really prefer to live, but what am I living for? It's hard to explain. It boils down to the fact that nobody wants to die. When you choose to die, you have reached a threshold that overrides all living creatures' will to survive. I'm walking along that threshold every day.

Plus, on top of being completely alone, I'm unemployed and I'm financially strapped. I have no idea how or where I will live next year. That's another loss I have had to accept: work loss. I used to have many regular and repeat clients in graphic design. I was never without work. I tackled contract after contract. Now I watch the minutes go by, day after day, with no job to go to and no clients to serve. It's a vast void. So I spend my time desperately trying to find answers to my health issues and writing chapters for my blog. It consumes me. I feel like a prisoner. My condo is my prison cell. 

I can't fake it anymore

Living alone would be acceptable if I did not have all the above-mentioned problems. But that is not the case. Albeit imperfect, I would trade this nightmare for my old life in a second. My life now is total shit. It's truly awful. It's chronic pain, mental anguish, medical appointments, and severe depression all the time. My father was once told by his doctor when he was diagnosed with arthritis in his knees and had to stop working in landscaping, "One gets used to living with pain." My father replied, "No, you don't get used to pain; you endure pain." I feel that this is where I'm at with my life. I endure it. I've accepted a lot in my life. But when you start thinking about suicide, you know you've reached a threshold that is beyond "acceptance." At least, that is how I see it. I don't want to accept my situation, but I can't change it, so I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. Up until recently, I was putting all my time and effort into two things - my health and my marriage. I wanted to salvage both and have the life that I want, and not settle for the life I have, which is constant suffering and sadness.

Dead end

I've come as far as I can go. I've run the car into the ground. It's over. I'm done. The end has come. I never imagined getting to a point where things got so bad that I would take my own life, but here I am. I've run the ship aground. My body has given up. I'm falling apart at the seams, and I can do nothing about it. I'm taking close to twenty different medications; I'm like a chemical stew. I can barely use my right arm anymore. Bending over to pick up an object off the ground is very difficult. My neck is disintegrating above and below the fused section, even though the doctor sees nothing. My wrists and elbows are also on their way. My head feels like it's in a deep sea diver's helmet. My Sjögren's Syndrome makes my eyes feel like I'm walking through the desert during a sandstorm. My mouth is dry. My ears are blocked. My jaw is out of alignment. I learned that the hip I had revised in 2016 would need to be revised again; how lovely. That hip hurts all the time. 

More physical problems...

I have recently been diagnosed with an unknown mass in my left knee that needs to be biopsied. Both knees reveal extensive damage and meniscus tears, and both would be due to be replaced. I also got the results back from the CT scan of my right shoulder, which indicates that it is basically destroyed and that the rotator cuff is destroyed as well. I would need something called a "reverse shoulder replacement." "Every year, thousands of conventional total shoulder replacements are successfully done in the U.S. for patients with shoulder arthritis.

However, this type of procedure is not as beneficial for patients with large rotator cuff tears who have developed a complex type of shoulder arthritis called cuff tear arthropathy. For these patients, conventional total shoulder replacement may result in pain and limited motion, and reverse total shoulder replacement is a better option.

A conventional shoulder replacement device mimics the normal anatomy of the shoulder: A plastic cup is fitted into the shoulder socket (glenoid), and a metal ball is attached to the top of the upper arm bone (humerus).

In a reverse total shoulder replacement, the socket and metal ball are switched. The metal ball is fixed to the socket, and the plastic cup is fixed to the upper end of the humerus."

The funny thing is, I could probably live with most of that, but I can't live with the debilitating IBS that has quite literally sabotaged my life. Unless you have lived it, it's impossible to describe just how much it robs you of your life. Being unable to go to the bathroom for five years and depending on daily enemas is inhumane. I've done thousands of them, staring at the sides of the bathtub or at the pine tree tops I could see through the window in my home. Beyond the physical discomfort, the toll it takes on how you see yourself is immeasurable. It's so demeaning. Having to be so close up to your stool, and for hours sometimes, it's just so exhausting and depressing. And despite having a successful enema, you still feel bloated, backed up, and "not empty" afterward. So you do it because you are just keeping ahead of what would otherwise be a giant snowball of shit rolling down a hill, getting bigger and bigger. I met with a general surgeon to discuss possibly removing my entire colon - she said it was not a viable solution to my problem. Someone I know with Ulcerative Colitis had it done, and although he has to wear a bag, he got his life back. I'd love to get my life back. If I can't get my life back, I'll have no choice but to take my own life. 

This might explain why nothing I have tried has worked...

I'm also being followed by another surgeon who has discovered that I have something called an "anterior rectocele" in my rectum. "An anterior rectocele is the name given to a pocket or bulge in the part of the bowel lying under the back wall of the vagina. It is a type of prolapse. Between the vagina and the rectum, there is a sheet of strong connective tissue which helps to support the vagina and rectum and stop one from bulging into the other." You'll notice that they mention a vagina in there. That's because this is rarely seen in men. All my Google research includes the word vagina, but basically, I have a bulge in my rectum. Here are some of the symptoms:

• A sensation of pressure or fullness in your rectum.

• Feeling that your rectum hasn't completely emptied after pooping.

• Having the urge to poop several times a day.

• Having to press your fingers on the bulge to push out a stool during a bowel movement ("splinting").

I've tried to convey how awful it is, but again, no one can truly understand unless they walk a mile in my shoes. And doctors have no idea what to do with me. I have tried just about every possible therapy and protocol, both conventional and holistic, and I have had no results. I continue to suffer day in and day out. It has affected the one last pleasure I had left: eating. I fear eating because I know I will feel lousy within minutes of eating. I can't eat to my satisfaction; I always stop eating before feeling comfortably full. I never get the "satisfied" feeling. So, no pleasure from food or sex, no pleasure from work, no pleasure from hobbies like drawing because of my eyes and my right arm, no pleasure from singing (which I have not done in 7 years), no pleasure from travel which has become virtually impossible, no pleasure from going to shows, concerts, or movies because of the chronic discomfort. No pleasure, ever. Just going without and suffering - this is not a life.

And then there is my endocrine/hormone system, which is totally out of whack. Living with Hypothyroidism, Low Testosterone, Secondary Adrenal Insufficiency, and Cushing's syndrome is no picnic. I can't control my body temperature; I sweat at the slightest effort, and sometimes for no reason. And then there is the crushing fatigue that comes with all of that. I'm always tired and constantly depleted.

Goodbye

You've all been there for me at one time or another in whatever capacity you could manage. You've tried to be supportive and have done everything possible to help me. Some of you have gone above and beyond what others would do, and I thank you. But, the chronic and degenerative nature of my illnesses has won. I'm just too far gone. I'm unable to care for myself or my dwelling properly. I have to accept that this has been my lot in life.

In hindsight, I did have the opportunity to experience things that many people will never get a chance to. I have had some incredible experiences, which makes this all the more difficult. I struggle with vivid flashbacks to those moments when life was "alive" and I was "living" it. It's like my whole life flashes before my eyes within seconds. I'm going to miss all of you. I'm going to miss my wife and my son most of all. I will miss out on maybe having become a grandad. I will not see my son mature and become a full-grown man, perhaps with his own family. I will not grow old with my wife by my side. I will not see Shoshanna grow up into a beautiful, strong, brilliant woman. There is so much I will not get to see. This truly is the hardest part for me–missing out.

I recently heard a song on the radio called "Better Luck in the Next Life." That really summarizes it perfectly. I had little luck in this life, except for a 15-year window where I lived the dream with my 2nd wife and child. But overall, I can't say that I've been lucky. All you need to do is look at "My Story" on my BLOG, and I think it's evident that I've been very unlucky when it comes to health. Maybe in the next life, I'll be one of the lucky ones. But I'll have no recollection of this hard life to be able to say to myself, "Hey! You got lucky this time!”

Goodbye, everyone. Thank you for having been a part of my life.

Written by Patrick Franc - a.k.a. Your Friendly Neighborhood Bionic Man