In 2017, I had had my own apartment for 10 years. I had no physical complaints that I can remember. Then, on June 30, my husband died. My social worker thought I should move into a personal care home, since I could no longer afford the rent of that apartment. Stupid me, instead of just getting a cheaper apartment, I took her advice. For the next 3 years I lived in a personal care home. I didn't like it but I tolerated it. At least they did my laundry for me. But I was not allowed to manage my own medications. And I couldn't take, say, a daily multivitamin without my doctor's approval. All meds were locked up, so I couldn't take even a Tylenol without requesting it. This upset me because all my life I managed my own meds without a problem. Then, in March 2021, that personal care home closed. I had to move somewhere else. I had had surgery on my left knee, a torn meniscus, when I was still in my own apartment, and I recovered well from that. I took Vicodin but had no trouble tapering and going off that. Then I started having worse pain in my left knee. I had x-rays and an MRI, and they said I had a decreased joint space. Neither my family doctor or the orthopedic PA would give me opioids. They put me on the highest strength of diclofenac, formerly known as Voltaren. That worked until recently. I had been trying for years to get my own apartment again. And I missed having a cat, which I had had since 1979. Finally, in October of this year, I got an apartment in public housing. A big problem: I had no furniture. Or anything else except clothing, and no place to put that, like a dresser with drawers. The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, they dropped off a bed, but didn't set it up, just laid it on end. I've been sleeping on a futon mattress on the floor and that is very uncomfortable. Better than putting it on the futon frame, which is all metal rungs, but now I have pain in my lower back and down both legs to my feet, whether I'm sitting or lying down. And this apt requires I provide my own washer and dryer. I've been in touch with the local charities for several weeks. I lost my car in 2017, there is no laundromat nearby, and now all my clothes are dirty. I have no family. No one cares. Never in my life have I not had a comfortable bed to sleep on, until now. I actually bought a brand new one 6 weeks before my husband died, and I had to leave it behind. Now I'm in pain all the time. My apt is a mess because walking and standing are painful. I don't feel like doing anything. I have no one to give me a ride to the orthopod (my family doctor said I need to see him for any knee pain issues) except public transportation. Nothing gives me relief, even laying down. I don't know what to do.