Here's an odd situation - my life can be salvaged, I think. Not lived with joy, certainly, because having lost fifteen years doing absolutely nothing thanks to a disease without a cure does ruin a man, let alone the medication that's required to somewhat manage said disease, and the side effects of theae medications, but still, my life can be salvaged. I will not be Jimmy Hendrix or Estas Tonne, but perhaps I can become
Uncle Igor.
I don't want to ctb, not truly, not yet.
I am old enough, but not free enough to make this decision, and besides, there's hope: perhaps the surgery I ramble about works as intended and unbinds me from my shackles.
Honestly, I despise this hope.
I'm this situation, however, I will still ctb, though, just not now, maybe in about forty years, when my health declines further. I hope to gather enough money to go through Pegasos by that time. According to their site, they're quite eager to help with literally all your troubles with travel and housing and whatnot.
But what if I don't? What if the surgery doesn't work?
Well, in that case I have my little pile of sn in the back of my closet. Not enough money for Pegasos, though.
I would have to thread on because of my father. He's quite old and diabetic. He doesn't have much fight left in him. Frankly, it looks disgusting.
Discovering my epilepsy broke him. Discovering his diabetes broke him further. He's like a scared kitten nowadays.
I imagine he gets a heart attack and keels over on the spot.
My point is, my trip to the bus station is inevitable, the only question is when.