When does it end?
The chaos? The loss? The boulders that life keeps throwing at me?
As if being homeless wasn’t enough, I managed to end up being admitted to the hospital.
I thought it was just a cold. After all, I’m a girl with a compromised immune system staying in a homeless shelter with way too many people and their germs. I figured I just caught a cold from one of the other people there.
But then I couldn’t breathe. No matter how many times I used my inhaler, I could barely make it from my bed to the front room 50 feet away. I figured it was just my asthma. I didn’t even have my nebulizer to use. It didn’t seem important to bring, when you have to condense all of your possessions to whatever can fit in one duffel bag.
The shelter called EMS. They put me on oxygen before I even got up from my bed. Nine vials of bloods and two x-rays later, the doctor told me I was being admitted. He saw multiple areas of pneumonia in both of my lungs.
Because that’s what I needed. To be sick. And to be really sick.
I just want a normal life.