On April 13th, I turned 71.

I'm not sure how many more birthdays I have ahead of me — and that's not self-pity, just honesty. At 71, with diabetes, sciatica, osteoporosis, and a stroke behind me, you start to count things differently.

I spent nearly 20 years homeless in Los Angeles. Five years ago, I finally got housing, and I've been holding on to it ever since. I live alone, on Social Security, and I manage — but just barely. The stroke left me with ongoing health needs. I spend roughly $100 a month on nutritional supplements just to stay functional. I eat carefully — low sugar, low salt — because I have to, not because it's trendy.

For the past three months, chronic pain has kept me almost entirely inside my apartment. I used to jump on a bus and explore LA. I'd like to do that again.

What I'm trying to do right now is pay down some small loans I had to take out for basics — groceries, a phone I could actually use, a cheap television. Once those are cleared, I can breathe again. I'm also hoping to get a proper mattress, because sleeping on what I have makes the sciatica worse every night.

My goal is $500-800. That's it. No trip, nothing extravagant — just a chance to catch up, get out of pain, and feel like I matter a little on my birthday.

I've gotten good at handling things alone. But this birthday, I decided to ask — just once.

If you feel moved, thank you. If not, I understand. Either way, thank you for reading.