I am nothing

Today, the 7th December marks around day 5 of my isolation. I may have gone to a local shop out of necessity within that time, but nowhere of note.
Every single day at this time of year is a challenge.
I am in constant pain, despite the Reletrans transdermal patch I wear upon my back constantly. Despite the additional prescribed opiates, despite the other non opiate meds I also am prescribed for pain.
So what is this pain? Well for me its beyond any ache I could describe, parts of my body feel as if I am having a wide twelve inch blade slowly inserted into me, in other places a red hot poker placed under my skin, then my bones feeling strained as if bearing the weight of a car upon me, ice and lava running through my veins, hitting every nerve upon the way.
My muscles no longer work when I need them too and I do truly ache when I move.
I am exhausted all the time, totally wiped out.
This is without describing the effects upon this body through Crohns Disease, something I take truly terrible poisons every single day of my life to suppress, a disease that means not only does my body eat itself but means I can without any notice suddenly find myself in the most difficult and highly embarrassing of situations. I have been lucky thus far in so much as I have still no bag, but have had to go through a few courses of being infused with chemo drugs.
For me this is bad enough but for  others you will not see any of this, they will not tell you even that they have this to deal with this vile disease. They will suffer in silence, but to you not knowing their life, you may see them as a scrounger.
I also have diabetes, that currently may be type one, 2 or something different. The experts are still arguing it after 30 years of diagnosis and 25yrs of insulin. Even now my glucose range is daily likely to fluctuate from 2.8mml to 38mml.
This too is as the pain and crohns exhausting. My moods swing with my sugar levels. Placid when low, but at times beyond tetchy when they are high. I don’t often get to sleep due to neuropathy, I cannot stand the bedsheets against my skin. Clothes become torture, feeling as if wrapped in sandpaper.
The medications, the injections mounting up and stopping my diet that Crohns requires.
Then there is the Fibromyalgia, something some will tell you is made up, that its nothing, and unless you experience it, truly you will never understand the impact of this upon the very soul residing in our meatsuits. I challenge anyone to describe the exhaustion and constant pain this condition brings with it. Without you living it you won’t come close.
Then there is the pain of the bizarre first bite syndrome. When you first try to eat something the agony in your jaw and mouth. Not fun.
For me there, despite my triple heart bypass, are still cardiac issues, such as SVT, where my pulse rate will exceed 240bpm, angina, and I am told still arteries that are clogged. 
All of that along with the effects of PTSD, Anxiety and Depression are my daily journey. Before I arise in the morning to take my first mountain of tablets, the fight to find any reason to be here. I am lucky thus far that there are a few.
There are indeed days I am skilled at hiding any of this, days you as a observer will have no idea. I still have friends and family, despite knowing about most if not all I cope with that think I will soon be over it all and will be able to work, sadly others that don’t accept I am ill at all and think that me along with several thousand others choose to be ill, choose to loose their identity, their purpose, their value, their worth, their choices, their futures and their hope.
To those of you that believe that, feel free to live my life. I would gladly swap.
Now I have written this for me, a little self indulgence of getting some folk to see my truths, but as well I have written it for the hundreds of thousands like me or sadly far worse, those you all constantly seem to judge. Those you see as ripping you off because you work and pay social security, well let me state, I too worked, for decades, in all sorts of jobs before finding my calling,my career, the thing I grieve most after the loss of my brother and the estrangement of my adult children, and thats the loss of me,the me I was, the me I wished I still was, the me of whom I had pride, self respect, and hope. That me is no more. I cling on to the last remnants of that version of me, I still keep my social work registration going, in again that hope I too am guilty of, the one where I wake up and are once more able to live, plan, organise, think, keep appointments,  imagine a time where I no longer let friends down, where I don’t let me down.
That day likely will never come, so seeing posts of close friends where the sick, chronically ill, disabled and unwaged are seen as scroungers cuts me to the bone, makes my shame a thousand times worse, backs up society’s view and sadly too often my own, that I am useless, that despite the lives I have saved, the lives I have brought about change, the lives I have safeguarded, that now I am sadly seen as this pathetic excuse of a man , now I am whatever I have become, just a burden upon society, then I no longer deserve to be here, no longer deserve to live on those days I can pretend to be well.
Again this is not just me, its about all of us who you non doctors, you non informed, you social media qualified people always villify.
I am exactly a person this government, and any future government want to see culled.
Welcome to 21st Century Britain