Bills, Bills, Bills

Here’s my main CF related problem right now: I’m sick enough to not want to go to work, but not sick enough to justify it to myself. I don’t earn a lot of sick time, so I don’t want to waste it on lungs that feel like they’re coated in a layer of dried pancake batter (wet cement or GTFO). I could get a leave that would enable me to call out using vacation time, but I burn a lot of that on doctor’s appointments anyway—I have three within the next month. I could probably work out a deal where I call out unpaid, but I have $700 worth of medical bills on my desk from those doctor’s appointments I used my vacation time on. There’s nothing Earth shattering happening right now, just a bunch of shit I don’t feel like dealing with. Maybe it’d be easier if I could breathe.

These little annoyances are what I think of when I hear “Don’t let CF stand in the way of your dreams.” Having dreams seems like a lot of work and I’m already spending a lot of time having CF. I know you said I shouldn’t let that get in my way, but I feel like ignoring will find me homeless and dead in no time. You can’t dream when you’re dead.

And that’s really what it comes down to. You can’t do much of anything when you’re dead, though I’m sure the medical bills will find a way to keep showing up. I keep looking at them, then looking at my bank account, then looking back at the bills and wondering when collections will start calling the house. I could probably afford to pay them, but the holidays are coming up and no one seems to believe me that Christmas is bullshit.

But maybe I should just let go and follow my dreams. Medical bills are just another way for CF to stand in my way and I’m not going to take it anymore! So fuck you bills, I’m living my dream of owning the 1966 Batman series on bluray.


I regret nothing.

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