The Sun is Receding

I have a lot of time to think when my brain isn’t in chaos or Will is rattling on about cars or RV’s or what his brother has done to him. The usual noise pollution. Just chillin’ at a Starbucks with a cup of tea. I had $2.35, so I could afford that. I get my Social Security in a few days. Let’s see how long it lasts this month. Hopefully, longer than 10 days.

At least my storage units are up to date this month. Don’t have to worry about that, and I was able to wrap my head around how we could reduce storage, pay less and have more room! It doesn’t hurt that the place I have 2 units now is cheaper than the other 2 places. I just have to work out how to move everything with Will’s bad back and my shelving in Brentwood Unit 1 with the shelving pegs in Brentwood Unit 2 or Livermore Unit 1. Is it any wonder why my brain defaults to chaos? Too much to keep track of while living in a car.

Enough of that. I need to word vomit my brain because it’s nauseous.

I consider myself a Follower of Christ, not a Christain. There is a difference. I don’t seek forgiveness for the sins of the week with Sunday cleansings. Hypocritical Sunday Christians drive me bonkers. Especially those twisted f’ers that think Gay’s have a master plan to destroy the Church.   The only reason they are Gay is to destroy the church. It’s a choice. Anyone who thinks that or that Gay can be prayed away needs deep psychological counseling. Like the Vice President, who calls his wife Mother.

Ever heard of that thing about God making us in His image? Was there an exclusion? You don’t ignore children born with Down Syndrome or Spina Bifida? Claim they chose that life? Being Gay isn’t an illness, neither is it a choice and you can’t pray away who you are. What I know of, what has happened to others, the commentary, the abuse, the torture, the pain they NEVER asked for. They just want to live their life and have NOTHING to do with yours, so why be so nosey and get up in their grille about their “lifestyle”.

News flash – it isn’t a lifestyle, it is their actual LIFE. Quit being such a busy body and find another “cause” you can bitch about. And if the word FAGGOT or DYKE or CUNT is in your vocabulary, read a book and expand your brain asshat. Why be a Baby Trump when we can’t stand the Old Man (so old and fat and gross). Living in Livermore, we run into Trumpers and other racists, discriminators, supremacist lovers often. Old white men set tables out with info in front of the post office. Vote for Trump! Thanks but no thanks. My family suffered at the hands of the 3rd Reich. I don’t want to see the fully realized 4th Reich in my lifetime.

Enough about Christians. Why is there a theme of giving at Christmas? Why is there a theme of helping at a Chruch when proselytizing is what happens too often? The two are connected, as evidenced these past few weeks. First, let me say that we truly appreciate the kindness shown by church members and individuals that saw our need and gave. The cookies were very nice. Toothbrushes and toothpaste are much-needed items. Cup of Soup is welcomed and very useable. Hotel snags like shampoo and conditioner – not so much. We see dozens of these wherever we go for warm food or outreach.

You know what we didn’t see much of this season? Gift cards. To Subway or McDonalds or Starbucks.  Safeway Fuel Cards. They have no cash value. We can’t buy booze or cigarettes with them anyway. And so what if we bought a pack of smokes. A bottle of beer. How dare we use your hard-earned money for such useless comfort items? Because we are homeless. We can’t buy anything warm with EBT, or alcohol or cigarettes. Hell, you can’t but incontinence pads with EBT, or shampoo or soap. Just food – but nothing hot in Califonia. They can in Arizona. Will is supposed to get $40 more per month since he is homeless. Does he? Do I? No.

My face hurt so much this morning due to the cold and sleeping in the car. We’re both sick now. I slept with my coat on and tried to cover my face with the blanket, but breathing through my mouth made it too uncomfortable to continue. Thanks to Donna McKenzie, Will and I were able to get coats last week. We have her to thank for the room at Christmas. Sleeping in the car is so dehumanizing! I hate staying in a motel room and the cost that it takes, but it is so much better than a car. Especially when you’ve got a cooktop and a fridge! It’s like living like royalty!

You can’t get a place to live for 2 adult people in their 50’s for less than $2000 in this area – and that $2000 is more than likely for a ROOM. There are no apartments that are affordable without all our money going.  $2000 in rent would leave us with $200 from Will’s General Assistance and his food stamps for the month. That $2000 better include utilities, because there would be none leftover after the cell bill and car insurance was paid. And forget about driving anywhere. We would have to ration where we drove so we filled up the tank just once a month. No money saved for oil changes or repairs or even windshield wipers.

We have talked to all available resources regarding housing. Disabled people aren’t top of the list. I’m disabled with a brain injury and I am severely struggling to survive living in my car. Will has to have surgery and needs further diagnosis so he has some quality of life. He could get a job, but he can’t with a bad back.  I see why he was an alcoholic. If I had the money and no responsibilities, if I just didn’t care anymore and had accepted that living wasn’t worth it anymore, I would drink myself to death too.

Because of the post-stroke emotional incontinence, I cry every day because I have no other outlet. If you don’t get it, I HATE THIS LIFE AND LIVING LIKE THIS. I’d rather eat Chicken McNuggets than burnt vegetables, cheap hot dogs too small for regular buns, sauerkraut (yes, they served sauerkraut at the food kitchen *shudder*) and a fruit blend with underripe melon which gave me the runs last night – in 40F weather with no close bathroom other than Safeway.

Friday’s and Sunday’s have Safe Parking at the worst location – the old City Council Chambers next to the Police Station and you need the Security Guards to escort you into the Restroom. Hopefully, I won’t fill my drawers while going through that keeping a smile on my face and not showing frustration at the Guards. It’s not their fault. Just the City of Livermore who will not dedicate a space for the homeless – like the Old City Council Chambers – for a Winter Warming Shelter with cots.

Leave the homeless outside roaming the city, sleeping in front of the closed OSH store, or a bus bench, or in the Creek that floods multiple times every winter. Let the Church’s and Donna McKenzie deal with the homeless. It’s their “mission” anyway, God’s children and that nonsense. Let the homeless, that take advantage of the Homeless Refuge, sleep on yoga mats on the floor. And if you’re disabled and can’t get up of the floor – or even be able to lay down on the floor – make the best of it and tough it out. Hopefully, a Watcher will realize you have mobility issues and doesn’t yell at you at 6am to hurry and get up! You need to be out by 7am because the church neighbors don’t want your kind loitering in their neighborhood. And the Warming Reuge has sufficient watchers WHO VOLUNTEER because otherwise they are closed.  At least Donna has sleeping bags and pillows THAT ARE DONATED. Livermore pays for shit. This parking program IS helpful, but those with motor homes can’t participate. There are not many who have cars or want to do through the approval process.

We think San Francisco is bad – welcome to wonderful Livermore in the East Bay! We’ve got a plan to eliminate the homeless issue!

No they don’t. They’ve seen this getting worse for years and choose to tackle a small ratio while complaining how so many come from elsewhere and settle here.  I could have stayed in Contra Costa and I would be dead now. I should have stayed there and not inconvenienced your fine city, or gone to San Francisco.

Hey, Livermore just had their first Pride Event this year. Not in June, of course, but they finally acknowledged that segment of the population.

If I had plenty of downtime with WIFI, I could write more coherently and not so angry. My life is falling apart and there is nothing I can do about it. For God’s sake, someone who can – help us!

What I Want For Christmas or Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda

My old life back? Pre-stroke?

Since I’m in a fantasy world today, I’ll keep to that theme. Bing Crosby is playing. It’s making me wistful and weepy.

I want Dad back and Gunn to have been out of our lives when I was 8. We could have left her with her family when we were in Norway in 1978 when Grandpa was still alive and Gunn hadn’t successfully ended Dad’s maritime career.  And I was happy and didn’t doubt anything. And the beatings hadn’t begun. And she wasn’t twisting my mind with sexuality and accusations and clippings from the newspaper to “warn” me of the evilness of men and how she went on with the lies of how she was my birth mother. No exact facts, just a caesarian scar. Not me, her daughter born 2 years before me and buried in Norway. Her cousin’s son didn’t know it was a huge family secret! Yeah, that tombstone was a shock. Gunn was lies. Dad was truth – to a point. He protected her and paid for it. I would do anything to just have a day with him again. 17 years feels like 17 minutes.

Going to college and staying there until I had a degree. Looking into it myself instead of thinking Dad would know. Even student loans. They made a choice to not acclimate – ever. I was American. They were Norwegian, though Dad did get his Citizenship because he wanted to vote since he paid taxes. And voting with him and understanding politics and government was interesting for both of us. He had someone to talk to because such things BORED Ms. Pris. Such nonsense interrupted Jeopardy, or worse General Hospital. Realizing education was more important than a Scandinavian Husband, that an education would release me from her vice-like grasp, was the prize.

Marrying Antoine was a huge mistake. Period. Chris was right.  I was a neophyte, impressionable, naive. Stupid. I paid for it; emotionally, financially, physically. 5 years of my life gone, 20 to 26. Poof! Then there was Kevin. Chris made him an offer – me on a platter – and I ended up marrying him because he was the OPPOSITE of Antoine.  Opposite that he had no confidence in himself. The Martyr by self-proclamation. A loser with no marketable skills. That I married. Who was the loser?

I wanted children. I had always hoped for three. Boys or girls, as long as I had one of each. Always a reason to wait….wait until we have a house….wait until we have saved up money…..he could be a stay-home Dad, no daycare needed! I’d be working 14 hours a day because that was my job and his job had no actual “importance” in that get a temp with basic accounting skills. C

I had skills. Recruiters called me too often. I hung in too long in several positions and gave my loyalty to some real scum bags. Missed some opportunities and didn’t jump when I should have. 6 figures was nice while it lasted. From Corporate Finance to Pre-Audit to Forensic Auditing to Real Estate to Mortage Lending, then the Big Short, back to Corporate Finance and Audit Lead and Project Finance Administration to Stroke. Helluva circle. I wish I had discovered Forensic Auditing earlier. I could have had a career with the FBI and been on the East Coast. A happy life, without the Emotional Vampire.

I took tests in High School. SAT of course, and the Armed Forces Aptitude Test. The Navy really wanted me and for Annapolis. My test results for Analytics and Logic was in the top 5% nationwide. They may have wanted me for the Trident Sub Project. I would have been there during Tailhook, but Gunn torpedoed it all by telling the recruiter I wasn’t mentally stable. She was a “nurse” and it had been so heartbreaking. Dad wasn’t there when the recruiters were “interviewing”. She made sure of that. He was furious when he found out. I could have followed in his footsteps.

She always had it her exact way, regardless of anyone else’s feelings. Narcissist much?

That IQ test I took during Junior High. Good thing she was smart, but she shouldn’t think she was smarter than the adults. And wouldn’t that make it more difficult for her to find a husband if she had unrealistic expectations? Those meetings with Mensa? Whatever that was. A bunch of old men who just wanted her for sex or to take advantage of her. She doesn’t know. She’s an innocent and we will keep her that way. A pure virgin when she finds the right (acceptable) man. That IQ business means nothing.

All paperwork disappeared. Like everything else Gunn didn’t like or find agreeable.

My IQ is near genius level. They never brought it up to any instructor’s that I know of. Dad was friendly with my Principal and helped “school” my HS Geometry teacher and narced me out to Dad more than I liked, but I caused my own issues with keeping off the Honor Roll by planned percentages.

I enjoyed that too much. I was hanging on out with the Stoner campus, playing strip poker and not losing an article of clothing during Drama while “running lines”, hell skipping class to run to Naugles for breakfast (teacher never knew), being teachers’ pet, tutoring Math to Junior High students while a Senior, dealing with Gunn’s accusations of my supposed sexual promiscuity, having her “smell” me when I’d returned from being out with friends (3 boys and 2 girls – including my neighbor) to see if I smelled like sex. One thing is for sure, she couldn’t smell alcohol worth a damn. Chris and  I would drink MGD and she didn’t smell that. Was I smoking the marijuana?! Chris smokes, so therefore I must smoke, including marijuana. Yeah, I smoked. I didn’t smoke pot until I was 46 and discovered “candies”. Oh, it made dealing with Gunn so mellow. Hehe. Never got the munchies, but horny was a different matter and I was hanging with Jason who liked boys too. My Gays.

One thing that still burns like an endless flame – my beloved Husband Kevin who had an issue peeing and finally went to the doctor and, as I told him to, took the doctor into the bathroom to show how slowly he pee’d. Months, several procedures and finally surgery, he can ejaculate sperm! That path had been blocked for his entire Adult Life due to an accident with a girl’s bicycle as a child, that he never took the time to completely explain – or obviously show – to a urologist. This was “fixed” when he was 42. I was a year older. We could try to have a child.

I was too old. What about adoption? (And here it comes)

You never can tell what you’re going to get. The mother could have been a crack addict. The kid could have developmental issues. It’s not a good idea. It’s too much of a burden,

Good thing Gunn and Aksel didn’t think I was going to have problems since I was adopted – rejected by my birth parents – and I would be a burden. He used burden. In a few brief sentences, he made my justification for living as a child an inconsequential anomaly that should be avoided.  And I didn’t want to try anymore with the looser without marketable skills. Nam myoho renge kyo MF.  20 years with you was an absolute waste. Your family was cool. Wish I was still married to them. I am sorry Sharon. I tried, but it wasn’t mine to fix or simply acknowledge. I constantly acknowledged it. I should have stopped after a year or two and moved on and found happiness with someone more mature and secure in who he was.  I kept hoping. I was his wife, not his therapist. Or his mother.

Well, this was a stream of consciousness, i.e. word vomit.  Sorry. I obviously have anger management issues I  have to still deal with. So much abject disappointment in my life. It isn’t unique. I do realize that. But it is special because of how and how much and by who it was done. And now I have Will who tells me to stop letting those people rent space in my brain.

Too old and an adopted baby is a burden. My last big wish was incinerated and he was clueless.

I should have gotten pregnant without telling Kevin, that was what I should have done Chris? And since Kevin was shooting blanks, should I have gotten a different “donor”? Cheat to obtain the prize and lie to the child about his father. That’s fucked up dude, even for you. Yet, I’m the bad guy. No. I never was. You should have never said what you did. Never. It still burns my soul.

Lawyer Speak – Blahblahblah

I started calling attorney’s today about suing that place I used to live and their idiot doctors:

  1. I was told I had a stroke 11/29/2016
  2. The fact I wasn’t told “what kind” is neglible. I had a stroke. Period. End of story.
  3. The fact I wasn’t treated for the type of stroke I had doesn’t matter. They told me. I was informed.
    1. The fact I didn’t see a neurologist for 19 months doesn’t weigh in. I wasn’t being treated for TIA’s or the impact of the neurological devastation which proabably worsened after the stroke.

My current speech therapist, who knows my diagnosis, keyed me into apps and programs that can help with my deficits. One is TalkPath Therapy. It is awesome and can target my issues – and it costs $250 per year, or $25 per month. Ain’t gonna happen.

There are others, such as the Khan Academy, which are free and useful to increase my base of knowledge, but not as targeted as TalkPath. Grrrr.

CCHP should pay for that since they totally missed it, ignored it, intentionally kept it from me. See a physciatrist for your depression/eating disorder/Munchausen Sydrome they said. Otherwise, we are too busy with “real” patients that need our help they said.

I need a malpractice attorney who gets it that stroke diagnosis is valid and very important as it directs your medical care!

Did you know there are three different types of stroke?

  1. Ischemic Stroke
    1. Thrombotic stroke
    2. Embolic Stroke
  2. Hemorrhagic Stokes
    1. Intracerebral hemorrhage
    2. Subarachnoid hemorrhage
  3. Transient Ischemic Attack (TIA)

Lots of information, but if you’re not over 55, don’t worry. It won’t effect you.

I had my stroke at 50. 50 and 5 months. I was considered young by the Neurologists at UCSF.

Now I have to convince an attorney that this is malpractice. And I don’t speak succintly anymore. And people are in a hurry and don’t listen. In other words, I am screwed. 

Giving Tuesday

The holiday season is in full swing as we are a day away from Thanksgiving. I will be spending my day at St. Raymond’s in Dublin, California with my homeless friends enjoying a notable spread. It sounds exiting. I miss Thanksgiving with my in-laws. I miss Thanksgiving with Dad.  I have no family, so this is the closest I can get.

I wrote a letter to the East Bay Times today. I am including it for your edification

Email: local@eastbaynewsgroup. com

RE: Contra Costa Health Plan is committing malpractice

Contra Costa Health Plan could have killed me by doing it slowly and painfully. Here is what happened and I have filed with the California Medical Board.

I had a stroke 11/29/2016. CCHP failed to follow standard stroke protocol. My eating issues was an eating disorder. My incontinence was “the Change” though I’ve never given birth. I have Pseudo-Bulbar Affect, a neurological imbalance that can be treated with medication (I wail if I become slightly emotional), but I need to seen by a psychiatrist for my eating disorder and depression. But I wasn’t given referrals as I didn’t have “real” symptoms and the doctors were busy with real patients. Not just one doctor – it is systemic. A Nurse Practitioner, lied to her colleagues and accused me of assaulting her during a routine appointment where she had failed to refill several blood pressure medications, a psychologist claimed I was “grandiose and delusional”, though I had stability issues and used a cane to walk.
On November 1st of this year. I received a diagnosis of Vascular Lacunar Stroke by UCSF Vascular-Neurology Services, and they used the 11/29/2016 scans which showed a history of vascular lacunar infarcts. Something CCHP all but denied.
They said I had a lacunar stroke, an aneurysm, but VLS is specific and a rarity when not in your mid-60’s. I was 51 and it can be an indication if Vascular Dementia, Alzheimer’s nasty cousin.
Being 5150’d and falsely accused was traumatic enough. Getting the bill for the ambulance was adding insult to injury. Not addressing my stroke was criminal and impacted my ability to secure SSI. which I was denied the first time since there was no history of doctors appointments for my stroke recovery.
I have a diagnosed cognitive brain injury and CCHP actively and intentionally committed malpractice, even though they were being compensated by the State via Medi-Cal through the Medicaid expansion via Obamacare.
I won’t bother to go into detail about Contra Costa Social Services. Simply put – they suck, are woefully mismanaged and dehumanize as opposed to “helping”.
Sincerely,
Venka Anderson
And I emailed the California Medical Board to revise my complaints to include Contra Costa Health Plan, not just 2 doctors. Their overall medical practice is atrocious. I can’t be the only one.
I remind you this is Giving Tuesday and I still have my own campaign http://www.gofundme/com/life4v which deperately needs your support.  Please let me know what you think – here or on Facebook under the page @onetinysoapox. Thank you for joining me on this journey. I’m not done yet.

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

I’m at Asbury Church waiting for a shower and laundry. They’ve stopped showers due to lack of hot water. I’m cold already, taking a cold shower would hurt and be the manifestation of hell on earth.

They are looking into it, so I am typing to have something to do.

I have a doctor’s appointment. Ears are still plugged and my intent was to go for that. But I have realized my coginitive decline has become worse. I need more sleep than 8 hours. 8 hours isn’t enough. And I just had a brain fart over “isn’t”. My brain is not in good shape and this homeless thing is making it worse.

I have spent several nights in various warming shelters since it’s so cold and smokey. I have slept on the floor, and as a stroke survivor, it isn’t easy to get up and down. Locked door handles are really helpful. I can pull myself up.

I drag my left foot when I walk. Getting therapy would help, but daily exercises would be a challenge. Have to live with that until I have a roof over my head. Whenever that will be.

I’ve met a few people: Cindy, Eddie and Lorraine. I will share some stories in the future. Just leaving a note here as a reminder.

And, just to remind you http://www.gofundme.com/Life4V

Homeless and Hopeless

I don’t enjoy my life. I don’t have anything to look forward to, except doctor appointments and diagnosis. That’s a double edged sword. Diagnosis for something that won’t get better. Or restore me to my former self.

Though I have shelter, it’s not mine. My home. And though I have some of my things here, now on pallets with tarp on dirt, it isn’t the bulk of my stuff still in storage and will be lost too quickly for lack of payment.

Since I can’t work and earn money, former 6-digit income worker who can’t work – ironic – I don’t have any income to pay for my storage units. Homeless losing the bulk of everything and I didn’t do “this” intentionally. It’s a waiting game for Social Security and I didn’t have medical care – other than prescriptions to keep my diabetes and hypertension and cholesterol under control with no management or explanation and I can’t eat like a normal person BECAUSE of a medical condition caused by the stroke, but it’s an eating disorder that needs pyschiatric guidance. Bullshit.

They brought on my suffering due to ignorance and apathy. And if I had care, or even an explanation of the type of stroke I had, it would be easier to accept and adjust to. But, I’m alone with no close family, so tough luck. Too bad, so sad. Loser.

Should I think any other way? Why? I am dealing with this alone and the few who do deal with me don’t get what I am going through. Every hiccup is a major road block, a landslide, and I have to wade through it and not drown or sink to the depths. And succumb to death, which would be so much easier.

I went to a resource provider for Alameda County, and she gave me a list of meetings I could go to, to train you about renting a home and all that it entails. Goody. What I did for 30 years. It’s depressing and frustrating and so much to handle – alone. Nothing is easy anymore. It’s all so difficult and more just piles on every day.

I need help. I need someone with answers, not more questions.

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.