Trigger warnings: Discouraging, illness.
I haven’t written for six days because I had no good news. I still don’t, but this can’t wait.
For six days, I worked frantically to produce a positive outcome—any positive outcome.
I decontaminated my car with chlorine dioxide (see my earlier post on this). That failed. Twice. Now I’m out of chlorine dioxide gas.
Then, I had a technical issue where this website (WordPress) displays my two blogs in a confusing manner. I spent three full days with dozens of pro developers and customer support on this—only to learn that the issues are un-fixable. Fortunately, I figured out a hack. It’s kludgy—like using duct tape to hold a broken car bumper together—but it works.
Then, I noticed my bedroom—my least toxic place—is worsening. My toxin reactions now prevent sleep. And I can’t open windows since the outside is bad. The N95 masks don’t help anymore either.
So I tried ozoning my bedroom (and car), cleaning the room, washing and changing all my clothes. I kept my bedroom air reactor (a heavy-duty $2,000 photocatalytic air filter) on 24/7. Survival work—that didn’t work.
Then I had another air reactor that was bad, but I thought if I connected them together, the good one might improve the bad one. Then, combining the two may give me the edge I need.
But this was a stupid idea. To my horror, both became toxic.
I take showers every two hours, and leave my apartment as much as I can. But I return to a sleepless, painful night. Just half an hour of sleep yesterday. 1.5 hours the night before. 3.5 before that. You can see this on my daily update.
My bedroom is now super contaminated. It’s as bad as my entire apartment, the town, and my car. I can’t sleep in it anymore.
So I have nowhere to sleep. No car, apartment, or even a tolerable hotel.
I’m now sitting in my parked car in a nearby park with somewhat better air.
I tried sleeping here with all windows open: no good. Immediately woke up in pain.
It’s cold now. I’ve run out of options.
Yesterday, my wife and daughter visited me. A 90-minute’s drive. Despite the pain, it was a joy to see them.
But today, I wanted to give up.
Three hours ago, my wife sent me a photo of a picture my daughter just drew of us.
I sat in my car staring at this picture on my phone, and I cried.
I don’t know how I’ll survive tonight or the next, but I have to try.
For my daughter. Mother. And others.
I take it one night at a time…
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