I very much do not want to do any of the things required of me right now.

I want to just sit in my feelings, and those feelings are full of grief. It’s both heart-wrenching despair and late-morning grumpiness. It’s wanting comfort, even though no amount of comfort comes close to reaching these depths.

My partner is terminal. He is not going to live a long life. There is no easy way to process this.

Instead of focusing on processing, I must move quickly and urgently to work on thing I hate doing: fundraising and moving.

This apartment that we moved into in late 2020 has become a familiar home. Unfortunately, it is making Ryann very sick. Hypersensitivity Pneumonitis – I can say and pronounce it because I’ve been explaining it to so many people, but I have yet to understand it for myself. It’s an immune disorder where lung inflammation turns into fibrosis, which is fatal.

My understanding is holding his hand across the railing of a hospital bed. It is listening to coughs interrupt him when he tries to speak. It’s the struggle of trying to pay attention to how to run an oxygen machine while the anxiety of him needing an oxygen machine clouds my thoughts. Relief that he’s not on oxygen right now, but the machine looms in the corner of our bedroom to remind us that he might if it weren’t for the steroids he’s taking.

Last week it was confirmed that there’s something in his living environment causing the illness. It’s mold, and we have to move. We’re looking for apartments. We’ve done the math and estimated the cost of moving.

Ryann and I have the most amazing relationship I’ve ever known, better than anything I could ever have imagined previously. It’s not just a matter of the absence of fighting and violence. We know each other on a deeply compassionate level, understanding each other’s complex pasts without judgment. We discuss things in ways that satisfy us emotionally and intellectually. Being with Ryann has given me a new definition for what it means to love and be loved.

I don’t want to lose him. His chances of living as long as possible mean getting him out of this building. He is not safe to breathe this air.

The pulmonologist explained that his chances of getting a lung transplant, should that become necessary, are very low. So we must get to a new building with fresh air.

I wish I could do gainful work. I wish I had savings to fall back on. I wish I was further along in the disability application process. My safety net is all of you. I wish I didn’t have to ask again for your help to get us to a new place. It’s going to be even more expensive this time because we can’t transport our own belongings.

We launched a new fundraiser yesterday. Please share it everywhere you can. And if you can, please donate. Anything helps. Your support is indescribably needed and I cannot thank you enough for all your help over the years.