I found a doctor who could help me, so I moved to his city. He lied: he is not a doctor.
It’s the same cycle. I spend most of my time trying to create a job I can do while I am disabled. I run out of money. I spend all of my time begging for your permission to eat and have medicine. I get some help. I ration my medicines and food. I spend a little time looking for a cure. I can’t do this forever.
I’ve put aside MXN$700 ($35). When the pain and hopelessness is too much, if I don’t have money, I’ll still have a little money to increase my options for where and how I die. I feel better because now I’m not afraid of the knife.
We can cure my illness and my poverty if you support my recovery.
Death and dying, Deathwish, Disability, Hopelessness, Poverty, Rationing, Suicide