Halloween, Samhaim, Día de los Muertos, the anniversary of my mother’s death bookend the end of October with my mother’s birthday amidst the Christmas and New Year week on the end side of what is my affectionately titled Death Season. There’s not actually a large increase in thoughts of death compared to other times of they year. Due to my extreme death phobia, and obsessive thoughts around it (thanks OCD!) I’m already pretty maxed out on grim reaper sightings. But there is marked increase in external triggers between personal and worldwide holiday family bullshit. For me, it’s a time of avoiding social gatherings (even before Covid) and consistently reminding anyone who dares speak to me about holiday family bullshit that mine is dead so they feel bad. Nothing feels as good as making someone feel awkward about your dead family.
My problem this year is that last year’s death season never ended. In December of last year, I stopped breathing, lost consciousness and went into seizure due to an asthma attack. I am used to ending up in the hospital from asthma attacks. It happens a lot. Like a lot a lot. I’ve gotten to where my vision is starting to get dark around the edges, but I have never lost complete consciousness before, and certainly never had a seizure from my attacks. I had always gotten help in time.
Just this week our phone tower was out for 6 days. That meant that if I had an attack, I’d have no way of calling anyone for help. Every few minutes checking in on my breathing or trying to decide if it’s safe to walk my dog for more than 20 min. This particular hyper-vigilance is not a PTSD symptom, it’s an actual survival need. I have to constantly be aware of my own health, which is awful because my health is quite shite. Between it being unsafe to do things like go to the dentist or get surgery on my fucked up leg, and doctors here being very unconcerned with actually helping me with my asthma (or anything else) or listening to anything I say (in translation) (which is pretty standard for most doctors, not specifically French ones), it’s overwhelming.
But on top of that, having an asthma attack so bad you black out, start seizing, and wake up in a hospital because of lack of oxygen to your brain is just scary by itself and can physically fuck you up. I have lost the ability to focus, to want to be awake, to be able to update a blog with a couple photos one a day. Anything that requires even the slightest complex or creative thinking feels impossible.
A lot of the depression and hopelessness clouding my brain is also tied in with the isolation of Covid making it wildly dangerous for me to go out and meet people who could potentially be a positive part of my life. When I fled here, it was in a reality where I would be able to travel, interact, and generally fend for myself. That seems impossible now. Everything seems impossible.
With every health hit I take, people divest from interest in me and thus support disappears. The more you need help, the less you get. That’s just a basic tenant of capitalism. I don’t blame us poors that are passing the same $20 around trying to pay for our meds, I get it. It’s not exactly getting easier for most people to survive day to day. It doesn’t mean I’m not frustrated all day every day by the fact that only money makes money.
Before I started typing this, I was still waiting on my visa to be renewed. It finally has, so one less stressor of Death Season to deal with now. I will try to get back to daily diary posts today or tomorrow. Just know I’m really trying and I do still want to be alive.
Happy Halloween.
