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Losing Friends, Gaining Perspective

Here’s an honest snapshot of someone I loved warts and all.

Charity died Jan. 26, 2010. She was 32 years old. Charity was a radical. She believed very strongly in animal and women’s rights and racial and economic justice. She was firmly anti-capitalist and anti-corporatist. But, she loved the show Charmed, for which we teased her mercilessly.

She was hopeful and pessimistic. A natural born cynic, but an optimist at heart. She wished that things were for the best, knew they would turn out worse, but hoped for a way to change it once she got the outcome. She was curious and was always willing to learn more about any cause.

Even when I found myself agreeing with her, it was always more pragmatist and less idealist. I’d have to walk her back to what I considered, “the reality of where we are now,” not living in what we wished could be. Charity was an idealist. I realize now, that’s not a bug. It was a feature.

Charity provided us with something aspirational. We did not let ourselves think of the world that she envisioned because it never existed and we didn’t have a template for how it could. We needed to stay firmly grounded in our realities so that our souls were not crushed by the disappointment of daring to dream.

In 2009, I started a blog on healthcare disinformation. One of the first things I did was dismantle a healthcare letter to show how to write effective propaganda. I cataloged a few techniques to writing the kind of propaganda that goes viral. The other thing I did, was catalog disinformation quotes on health care. I dedicated that blog to my friend Charity.

Charity lived alone, had healthcare, but couldn’t afford much else because of that healthcare. Her only companions were her 3 cats. She struggled to afford the heart, cholesterol, and other medications that she was taking. So, she took advantage of a sampling program at her local hospital. She was ashamed of that and felt it was cheating. The doctors/hospitals got medicine to pass out for sampling (so it wasn’t a guarantee she’d have all the medicine she’d need), and she did this at a couple of different places so she could keep a supply.

Charity had health insurance through her job, and it was probably considered good health insurance. She was also able to take advantage of a therapist. She owed medical bills, for which she tried to declare bankruptcy. She had Fibromyalgia and her fingers were giving her problems. She had to take cortisone shots. She  also lived in constant fear that she was going to lose her job. She’d had her schedule changed to try and accommodate her health problems, but eventually had to go back to working full 40 hours.

She didn’t have have and couldn’t afford cable, or the internet. She shopped at the Winco, sometimes used a foodbank just to be able to afford her health insurance, cat food and rent.

In the email we received confirming Charity’s death, we were told that she made the decision to end her life. She called us earlier, and I kept meaning to call her back. I kept wondering about Charity. I wondered if she’d heard a certain song or seen a certain show. Or I’d watch a documentary on something that reminded me of her and also be intending to get back to her.

In losing this friend, I’ve gained the perspective. I’ve gone months without talking to relatives, contacting friends, or even seeing daylight. When I was little, I’d want to talk to my mom before bed, and she’d say, “There’s a time for everything. Now is not the time for talking.” I learned there was a time for everything, but living. A time for working, no time for playing, a time for sternness, discipline and stoicness, but I think what Charity has reminded me to do, is live. And I hope the rest of you will remember to take the time to think about why we’re making this money, why we do the jobs we do, and why we pour ourselves into our work (even when we genuinely love it) and remember to live.