Desperate Days

I know I haven’t written for a while. Too much has been going on. And it has been more than I can take, but I soldier on. The Force is strong in me. Is it May 4th yet? LOL

This past month has been a rollercoaster. and not one I would pay money to ride. And believe me, I’ve been on gnarly coasters and laughed while screaming the whole time. This is not that kind of ride.

The month started with an endoscopy where the doctor found two ulcers. I found out Tuesday this week they were negative of cancer. Pernicious anemia – you’re a bitch and didn’t give me stomach cancer this time but there are no guarantees. Still have to have a colonoscopy, but that’s a bit more complicates when your house is a ’99 Cutlass.

Another appointment with UCSF detuned the therapy I need and that I don’t have Pseudo-Bulbar Affect, but clarified I do need mental health therapy and medication for extreme anxiety and PTSD. The last 2 years alone would have put me in that spectrum, but being abandoned, harassed, or accused of things I didn’t do certainly didn’t help. Being made homeless 7 days after diagnosis wasn’t great. Being harangued for hours 6 days after initial diagnosis causing me to go to ER, didn’t help either. I get emotional. I’m sorry. My brain broke when I had the stroke and my ironclad tower of ice melted. I’m a human slushy now.f

Myrna thinks I have cognitive dissonance. Amanda thinks I’m critical of her parenting and wanting to destroy her happiness. Chris thinks I’m mean and selfish. I’ve never put myself first, above anyone else, or have been intentionally mean. I didn’t toot my own horn, just lived my life in the Lord’s Grace but didn’t wear it like a badge of honor or a shield against foes. What would Jesus do was more than a bumper sticker for me. It was my silent mantra. Why I never adopted the Faith’s of either husband. Didn’t convert to Islam or Buddhism as either expected. I had my beliefs and I followed them. Besides. I read up.on their’s and knew, appreciated the nuances, more than they did. Knew where they failed in their faith’s too. Especially Buddhism. Wonderful faith, jacked up believer. And he didn’t need me to prove he was a good Buddhist. Poppycock.

I have more love in my life now then I ever did with either husband – and the source of that love is my gay BFF Will. You know what they say girls, the good ones are either married or gay, and he’s been both. He came out after his mom died in 2014. He was married to a lesbian for over 15 years and had a stepson. But, honey, he’s free to be OUT, LOUD and PROUD! I think it’s adorable. But shit, he’s sexy as f*ck.

He gives great hugs. Holds me when I cry. Tucks my hand in the crook of his arm when we’re walking. Gives me kisses just because he thinks I’m adorable. Tells me he loves me for no reason or he may have done something I raise an eyebrow over. Holds me when I fall asleep. Compliments me when there is nothing to be complimentary about. Let’s just say he feeds my tattered ego left decimated by a boyfriend that found DD’s more to his fetish, a husband who complained how I was too warm to sleep next too and I snored disturbing his sleep, and the 1st husband who complained that I just didn’t please him (name the category I sucked in), or the countless other men I attempted to date, did date, wanted to date, but I didn’t have big boobs, I was too smart, I was boring, I didn’t put out on the first date, I wasn’t kinky/not kinky enough/not into that kind, I was a goody two shoes, the list goes on and is even more depressing.

Will is almost perfect, but he’s a “functional” alcoholic, has ADHD (oooooo, butterfly or something shiny! Glitter!), PTSD, spinal stenosis and prostate cancer. You think I’m worried. Nope. I’m petrified.

I can’t loose Will. Not my trophy husband. He’s almost perfect, if you ignore the “coitus” thing. Sorry, I couldn’t think of a more genteel way of putting it. Worse? Oh yeah! I know Will would have some choice words. He’s quick with a quip. He even helps me with speech therapy. He has the gift of gab as I once did..We were in complimentary business’s before the Big Short as my friend Mark calls it.

Hey Mark! Great podcast. http://www.markromanempire.com

Check it out, and he does a great Lt. Frank impersonation and Captain America. Check out his Heroteer link. He’s awesome! Way to go Cap! You’re MY hero.

So Will is in the mix, and since I walk in God’s Grace, I’m Will’s Grace, or Will & Grace 2.0. Plus a furry sidekick named Andy.

My Dads middle name was William. His nickname was Andy. I’ll take it as a sign from him and that he approves. Or Will’s Mom, Dorothy, came across Dad while on a leisurely stroll and they put us together. Dad would’ve enjoyed an intelligent and funny woman, and Dorothy would have enjoyed a gentlemen and Ship’s Captain to have thoughtful conversations with and dance the night away in their finest. They would have made a handsome couple!

At least, that’s what Will and I think. I had a great Dad. He had a great Mom. His Dad and my Mom sucked donkey balls, so the image of Dorothy and Aksel gives us joy. We need a little of that.

Then there’s Matt, our amazing 3rd Musketeer. Former Roadie and Sound Engineer who knows everyone! Matt and I talk about music alot, because Will knows what he likes, but doesn’t remember names, or bands, or song titles, or eras, or genres. Let’s say we school him quite often. But Will and Matt have shared histories from teendom, having grown up in the same town. Oh, the stories! I got nothing having grown up in the “OC” before Orange County became know as two letters. Or the Housewives of. We were famous because of Disneyland and the Crystal Cathedral, not bitchy housewives too wealthy to complain so damn much. Or silly movies starring Jack Black.

It’s ol’ home week when one of them sees or hears something that enters their memory bank, “Hey Matt/Will! Do you know/remember so-and-so? That was awesome/ weak/ tits/gnarly man!” Almost everyday for the last 6 weeks.

Matt has a heart condition, takes half a dozen meds, has edema and is in jeopardy of loosing his feet if he doesn’t elevate them often enough. I worry. It looks nasty and I’ve had swelling in my feet from not elevating them enough.

I have to wrap this up. It’s 3:40 am, we’re sleeping in the car so no one is laying down but Andy, and I need sleep.

A few things I miss:

My bed with a down comforter and pillows

English muffins

Kraft Macaroni & Cheese

Spam and eggs

Warm soup

Crab Louie

Crab

A shot of whiskey and relaxing with TV

Sitting curled up on my couch with a book

Earl Grey hot tea

My toiletries in the same spot am/pm/day

Things I desperately want and need again, but I doubt my homelessness will end soon. No one will help us. We’re not screwed up enough or the wrong age group or both.

More on that later. We do need your help. We’re out of money and out of places to ask.

Please help if you can.

http://www.gofundme.com/life4v

What I Miss Everyday…

What I miss every moment of everyday…

A kitchen to warm water for tea or make a cup of soup or make a hot meal.

A bathroom within a few feet so when I need to use the toilet, I don’t have to do the walk of shame when my pad overflows and the urine soaks my jeans and socks.

A bed to lay flat on. Not a yoga mat and a sleeping bag on the cold, drafty floor where I have to struggle to get up without pee-ing myself. And no one questioning me why I’m up at 2:30 am.

Blankets and pillows to nestle into on a cold and wet day. Being able to sleep until 8 am or 9am, not 7 am when I have to be up and out and expected to have my car out of the parking lot of the church-for-the-week because it upsets the neighbor’s and they consider it “congregating”.

Fruits and vegetables in abundance whenever I want them. Not once every few days and just one not the other.

Fruit juice or V8 with no High Fructose Corn Syrup. And a hot meal everyday. God I miss that.

Not having to explain to everyone I have a brain injury and they won’t get it. I look fine but I’m not. Looks mean nothing to selfish, uneducated, uncaring cretins.

A place to sleep, safe, confrontation free. It shouldn’t be too much to ask for.

I want a normal life like everyone else. I’m sorry I had a stroke that didn’t kill me. I’m sorry I’m a burden on society. I’d correct it if I could.

wwe.gofundme.com/Life4V

I am Disabled and I Have Little Hope

I’m 53.

I had a Lacunar Stroke 11/29/16.

No doctor cared for my medical issues for 19 months. No one. I was even told I didn’t have “symptoms” and I wouldn’t be referred because the doctors didn’t have time for patients who weren’t truly sick.

When I said I couldn’t eat, I was told I needed a Psychiatrist for my eating disorder , even though I choked on my own spit, would reguritate when trying to eat, had no hunger, thrist, or produced saliva sufficiently. My speech therapist recommended a barium test, which he scoffed at and informed me that no speech therapist is trained to practice medicine, and it was an eating disorder.

Uh-huh.

And first time stroke patients don’t have Pseudo-Bulbur Affect. Yeah right. I need a physciatrist because I’m crazy? I’ll believe you. You were a geriatric doctor for years and you should know? I’ll pass on your “knowledge” you dumb fuck.

An actual neurologist said I had a “minor stroke”. I needed to see a physciatrist for my depression. First time in my entire life I walked out on a “doctor” when she told me that.

I was physically restrained by police and bound to a gurney when a Nurse Practitioner accused me of assaulting her. I have PTSD after that quaint encounter and visiting Psychiatric ER and being told I was grandiose and delusional.

I now have medical coverage that treats me like a human – not a number and a file and nothing is wrong. I have Contra Costa Health Plan to “thank” for nearly 2 years of hell. I now have coverage from Alameda Alliance. I had to “move” to Alameda County, but I’m homeless so I just had to find a home to sleep at. I have an old friend who gave me a spare bed and safety. Better than being raped or murdered in my car.

I do research when I don’t know something. I have done more research and came across this:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Binswanger%27s_disease

Binswanger’s Disease. Similair to Alzheimer’s but can be caused by a type of stroke. Vascular Dementia. I see a doctor on November 1st at Neurovascular Services of UCSF. I am hoping that I don’t have Binswanger’s, but I am still dreading the outcome. At least I will know. Finally. But it’s me and I get weird stuff no one diagnoses for years, so it’s probably true.

Onset is usually between 54-65. I was 51 when I had the stroke, but there is evidence I had an infarct, and I know when. It was in the Spring of 2014 when I was caring for my adopted sociopathic narcisstic dementia ridden mother and she had already thrown out my meds and I had to go to Emergency, and they did no tests to find out what was wrong. I just had a BP of 3xx/17x. They released me when my BP was normal and I got no meds or a followup with a doctor. I was a few months from 50 then.

Figures. They refused to put in writing that “Mom” had demntia, even though it was clearly noted in her medical file. I know. I saw it. They mishandled her care until she died in May 2015.

That was in Southern California. I returned to the Bay Area after my SoCal sojourn and moved in with a friend who siad I could stay with them until I found a job and a new home, since I had to sell Mom’s, because that crazy bitch tore up her living will and the grant deed adding me to the house. She was bat-shit crazy and it ruined my life more than once. And since I paid the bulk of the mortgage, and it was a 2nd mortgage, I technically had been paying on that house for 8 years.

But, I came back here with a pittance of an inheritance to start my life again. She got me fired from my job, though they called it a layoff due to plant closure, but they stayed open for another 2 years, and I had been there for 5 years and knew where the proverbial bodies were buried.

I couldn’t work and take care of Mom. She always made everything about her. Kinda like Trump. Full-time chaos. Grrrr.

I came home and within 2 months I had the stroke. Most of my belongings had to be stored, including what I had to move to storage when my “friend” said they were moving and I had to go because I was ruining their happiness. You know what? They’re still there! Jerks.

I got no help from Contra Costa in finding a home. I’m running into the same problem with Livermore Housing Authority, but I have organizations to call. Whatever is wrong with me, it makes daily functions hard to figure out. I get overwhelmed and need to sleep. Or pass out. I don’t “decide”. It just happens.

I have filed for Social Security and am waiting for a hearing, as I have been denied, but I can’t blame them. There is no patient history other than an ER visit and hospitalization. That’s pretty much it, other than tons of prescriptions for things I did not have. Not enough to give me early SSI.

So I have a GoFundMe campaign. There is a reason for that. I am broke. I have food stamps (which Contra Costa screwed up this month) and I have General Assistance I have to pay back. $192 and $300 for each. At least I get GA through Alameda. CC said if I had $50 in the bank, I didn’t qualify. I had to find a job. Yeah right. I can’t do 3rd grade math and I was a finance analyst/assitant controller amd FX was one of my speciaties, but I’ll find work. If I could walk and stand up without tipping, or become so confused if I hear two things at once and I forget what I was doing, but I’ll figure out some mundane task to be paid minimum wage if an employer wants a fall risk on their payroll.

You need money to live, especailly if you’re a hypertensive diabetic with pernicious anemia and retinopathy. I take 9 medications by mouth daily. I take an insulin injection once weekly (better than twice a day just 1 month ago) and I take an injection once a month for Pernicious Anemia. I take blood sugar tests 2-3 times a day and my BP reguarly. That’s a lot to keep track of, but I manage. Everything sits within view and I set up my meds on a weekly basis, morning and evening. I have OCD, which comes in handy now.

I have carpal tunnel and a doctot has recommended surgery. My glasses prescription is 6 years old and my eyes have changed and not just because retinopathy. I drive a 1998 Oldsmobile Cutlass that my Dad bought before he died and it needs maintenance and wiper blades. I’ve got a Dell laptop from 2008 and it needs some time at Best Buy for worm removal and driver restoration.  I can’t use my Tower because no currently paid virus protection.  And my AAA Road Service has lapsed for non-payment. I stopped paying my credit card (just 1 – in case of emegency) months ago.

The GoFundMe is to provide for the cost of living until SSI comes through, hopefully soon. A friends’ sister was recently approved and that took 3 years. I’m a year and half in and had a lousy lawyer for the first 9 months.

My main storage unit is at Towncentre Self Storage in Brentwood and they won’t take partial payment per the district manager because it screws up their lien process. I am behind and the site manager has been told she can’t take a partial payment.

I am getting screwed out of my belongings – my life – because the District Manager is doing her job. Yes, they know about my situation. Yes, the site manager has compassion, but it’s still a businesa of real estate and that real estate has a price that needs payment.

Could I pay them $300? No. I need to pay them $660. I might be able to get $600, but I won’t be paying my car insurance, gas for that car or cell bill this month. $660, or she can’t take it.

My other unit is paid until November 29th. The rest of it is under a tarp on the patio where I am staying.

I need a place to live that has my things and not in storage. I purged everything I could when I packed Mom’s house. Gave away all I could. Even had a garage sale and listed on Criagslist. I lived in the backwater of Riverside County and they are CHEAP! 7′ aliminum ladder, months old that cost $70 at Home Depot, a little shit got it for $10 and it was SO EXPENSIVE. I sold it to him just to get rid of it, and he was pissed because I ripped him off.

Sure I did. That’s what privileged white people do that live in retirement communities. I hated it when Mom pulled “But I’m not from here, I don’t speak your language” crap. They know. They just assume you’re stupid or racist. I’m neither. I just hate that “I’m foreign, feel sorry for me” bullshit.

Think I don’t know? If you had any idea how many times I’ve told people I was born here and they don’t believe me – because of my name – and compliment me on my “good English”, I’m surprised I’m still free , because some folks need the stupid smacked off their smug mugs.

I’ve tried going to the press/media but I guess some one crying wolf isn’t sympathetic, even if it is real. I’ve lost my ability to work, to enjoy hikes, to drive to a nice area to walk away my worries for a few houra in nature, to sit and knit or do needlework or needlepoint, even to read for an hour or two, without my chaosed mind refusing to cooperate. I need some peace and that requires money. If I have to think about that, it becomes an obsession and I can’t sleep until I pass out, which for me varies amd depends if I have eaten well or just enough. If it’s just enough (1 meal a day and hopefully not Ramen), I can go 2-3 days without restful sleep, and my brain can’t take that.

Please go to my Campaign gofundme.com/Life4V and donate. I need help. I want to Live for however long I have and with my memories and savored remembrances of a life well lived.