Wednesday the 3rd
Hit the ground running and paid the electric and phone on line. I'm planning to take my temp/title and finally buy plates for the car, then hand carry the documents over to my caseworker and try to get this shit with my disability check resolved. My direct deposit for December was only $328 and I'm going to be in some serious hurting if I don't get it done.
These depression symptoms are holding me back, and I've got to find some way to defeat them. I see Dr. Mind this afternoon and this being frozen for hours at a time has got to stop.
I still haven't heard from Dr. S-heart, though Dr. P-knee sent him permission to operate on my heart. I have a feeling GB's just waiting for an excuse to cut me off, so I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands.
-------------------------------
I should've known better than to think I could take control of a runaway train/life. I came home to pick up some extra paperwork I needed and found a letter from Social Security saying that because some clerk had put in that I was getting paid twice a month instead of every two weeks, I'd received over payments from Disability over the last three years totalling $2,424, which means the full amount of my monthly disability checks will be withheld by them until it's fully paid back. I won't see a check from disability until June of next year and then it'll only be a partial one. On top of that I'll be billed an additional $124 that I can't afford a month for Medicare coverage, meaning my only income will be from GB/workman's comp, whose only purpose in life is to find a way to cut off my checks.
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It's 5:20 in the morning. I can't make the rent and car payment on $882 a month, much less heart prescriptions, utilities and groceries. It's all so hopeless. Over the last couple of weeks I've seen a couple of social workers and none can untangle this mess, much less explain it so I can understand it.
I'm still looking at triple bypass surgery on my heart, and operations to my knee. By February I'll have lost my car that I fought for so hard and I'll probably be evicted from my home of over 21 years by my birthday in May.
In front of me is a clear plastic glass, containing all of my heart, blood pressure pills, Plavix and Percocet/Oxycodone. beside it is a big glass of diet Dr. Pepper. The coward in me is stronger than I thought, I've just spent half an hour sorting them back into their individual bottles. I feel so defeated
It's amazing how my life can go from up to devastation in the space of a day. I'm going to call Dr. Mind tomorrow and see if I can get an additional appointment with her. If not I may not make it through the weekend.
How much more can I take?
Not much I'm afraid
Thursday the 4th
Throughout the night things just kept building up in me last night. This morning I made an effort to get ahold of Social Security, but gave up. I called Dr. Mind's secretary and found she had an 8AM opening, so I went to meet with her and she confirmed my fear that I'd read the paperwork right; I'll get nothing from Disability until July of next year because of some 3-4 year old paperwork fuckup to the tune of almost $2,500.
Apparently I looked so devastated, she wanted to admit me on an inpatient basis, but I resisted that because I have no one to take car of Mischief.
I meant to drive straight home and found myself on the other side of town instead and went to Wal-Mart. I bought enough food to last me til maybe Christmas... I hope.
I fought so hard to get the trust of everyone at Hunting***, and I hate that I may let them down. With only $880 a month, it'll come down to either the rent, or the car-but not both. It's so overwhelming, that I came home and slept until 8:30 this evening.
I can't get that glass of pills out of my head from last night.
Friday the 5th
I slept straight through today, waking up maybe an hour or so, before becoming so sleepy I had to lay back down again.
This was punctuated by phone calls from Dr. Mind telling me that she finally got through to Social Security, and that they said the letter I got was computer generated, and that they were only going to deduct $45 a month until it was paid back.
I fucking almost killed myself over the prospect of losing most of my income for the next 6-months over a letter they said to ignore?
I honestly don't know how much of this I can take.
I finally woke up around 9PM and I've been rattling around the house ever since.
Why don't I have an ulcer?
Sunday the 7th
I wish I could get out from under the physical effects of depression. I should be jumping for joy and yet I'm still tired and sleepy... at least I hope it's depression. It could be my heart for all I know. Dr. Mind called me yesterday afternoon to check up on me, but other than that it was uneventful (if you want to say snowing like crazy uneventful).
It's 4:59PM and I just woke up. My phone is going to get one hell of a workout tomorrow. Adsense, the company that places advertisements on my sites sent me a very nasty e-mail yesterday threatening me because I'd put little notes asking readers to click on their ads. I thought they'd want me to, but noooooo, I'm not allowed to draw attention to them at all. Apparently I get paid by how many clicks, and if they're not from genuine interest I'd get nothing. Jesushosannachrist. I only get something like three cents a click and over the last three years I've cumulatively made about $25, and they don't send you a check until you hit $100. I've been thinking of pulling their ads completely for the space they uselessly take up anyway.
Time to shoot up some insulin and eat...
Wednesday the 10th
I got another letter from Social Security and the totals didn't match what Dr. Mind said I'd get. I took it with me to our session today and she seemed worried and warned me to watch my cash closely in case they take their good old time with the paperwork and don't send me a check for January.
I got a parking ticket at OSU. they have a whole line of handicap slots near the door to Dr. Mind's building. Only four or five are regular handicapped, the rest require a permit from the emergency room. $35 I can't afford.
I did accomplish one thing, I finally got out to the deputy registrar and bought the correct license plates for the car. They wouldn't give me credit for the year's worth I bought in July. Expected I guess. On top of that I'll have to buy new plates in May.
I sent out the painting of the house I grew up in to the family as a Christmas card on Tuesday. No one responded. I feel kinda stupid that I thought they might. My brother sent along the e-mail address of D's son, my nephew, when he sent out his mass thanksgiving card, so I sent one to him. This is the nephew I'm told that she never even told that I existed. I met him for the first time at my father's funeral in 2006 and he seemed like a nice enough guy.
God knows hew she explained that she'd never spoke of me to them. She probably said I'd been in jail or out of the country or something and that she was ashamed of me.
Anyway he just got married a few months ago, I'm just finding this out, so I sent along belated congratulations and a long letter with memories of growing up on Rouser Road.
I can't straighten out my sleep schedule, it's all over the place.
Next chore is to get my car insurance straightened out, and to take all my paperwork to Social Security and then Medicaid to see if I can get Medicaid to pay for my Medicare so I don't have $100+ deducted from my checks.
The last couple of days I haven't drempt anything, or nothing I can remember. No nightmares no flash backs. I hate not taking my pills when I'm supposed to, I'm trying to hoard back as much as I can in case GB pulls my prescription help.
Sunday the 14th
Woke up around 2AM. The last two days have been spent trying to figure out my finances, and hoping the weather would clear up long enough to go out and get supplies.
It really bothers me that I can sit down somewhere and go into sort of a mental coma, think a half an hour has passed and it's been three or four. I don't fall asleep, or at least I don't think I do. It's supposed to be up in the 50s today so I'm compiling a list of supplies for the next week.
I called Dr. S-heart's office Friday but the secretary was on another line and said she'd call me back, which she didn't. I've got a GB medical exam tomorrow afternoon, so I'll try to call him again in the morning.
I've been thinking about death to much lately. I'm becoming more and more convinced that it's the same non-existence as when I was born. I'll just stop being. It worries me as I become less and less afraid of it.
It was in the 50s today, unfortunately too cold to put the top down. Went over to Wal-mart and sat an hour waiting for a handicapped motorized cart. When I finally got one it died in the meat department, and by the time I got my stuff, I was exhausted.
Checked Fri & Sat's mail and found the watch I ordered crumpled in bubble wrap in my little apt mailbox instead of in a protective cardboard shipping box... they sent me the wrong watch. I should've seen it coming. The one they sent looks super cheap and I'm in the process of writing a blistering letter to them, and a furious article for BC.
Couldn't keep my eyes open past 8PM and woke around 3, Knocking around the house ever since.
Monday's going to be a bitch...
Tuesday the 16th
I got an e-mail from GB wanting to know why I haven't had the knee surgery again. I've only explained it a hundred times. Dr S-heart never got authorization from Dr. P-arm/knee to do the triple bypass on me, so I'm trapped between two nurse's voice-mails. Social Security sent yet another letter that doesn't match the dozen or so I've gotten, so I'm back to not knowing how much I'll get beginning Jan 1.
We had a snow storm today, with the threat of a bigger one tonight, so I went and got supplies over at Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart pharmacy called to say Dr. S-clinic finally phoned in my prescriptions, but I have to wait a week to get the rest of my 14 different pills because Medicare won't pay for them if it's been less than 30 days of my last refill.
All this and it's only 4PM.
I've become obsessed thinking about death and what happens to you after you die. Dr. Mind says it's okay, it's when I don't think about it out loud that most people do it.
My whole world, my whole life has shrunk from traveling all over the country, having fun and lots of money, to sitting in front of this computer day in and day out because I'm afraid of strangers and have pushed what friends I have left away months/years ago.
I've got to figure out where the money for the damned OSU parking ticket is going to come from too.
Sometimes I wonder where my hope comes from.
Wednesday the 17th
Dr. Mind is going to see about fixing my parking ticket (God love her.) She's going to be gone the next two weeks over Christmas and New Years, just when I'll need her the most with trying to straighten out this Disability bullshit... that and I really don't look forward to spending it all alone. I'll probably do what I did over Thanksgiving; not sleep very much, and then sleep all day through it.
I drove over to my Chrysler dealership for my 42,000 mile oil change. I decided that I'd find out if my warranty for 7 year-70,000 was still good, and they said that as long as the car was only in my name, the drive train warranty would be good. That means I still have to follow the guidelines in the warranty book. Since I own a luxury car, they assume I can afford all the "every 3000 mile" expensive required checks, like the oxygen sensor, the transmission, and all the electronic stuff.
alas.
Went up to Wal-mart and picked up this month's prescriptions. Dr. Clinic added the damned huge horse pills for low potassium that I nearly gag on trying to swallow. Oh well.
I worked on the painting of the house we grew up in on Rouser Road tonight, and added Mom and Dad at the back door all bundled up against the snow carrying groceries. I left it kind of ambiguous as to who they were, so anyone can imagine anyone there since they're so bundled up.
I'm going to e-mail it out tomorrow morning. no one wrote back after I sent it the first time.
Thursday the 18th
Brock called me from New Orleans this afternoon, and reminded be of all the fun we used to have in San Diego. He's my hero, he did exactly what I would've done. His family was wiped out by Katrina and he dropped everything, sold his business and used every cent to help the people he loved.
The only thing is it hurt so much to know that I'll never have that life again. Brian and I used to love flying his business jet, laying over in Las Vegas' McClaren. I ache sometimes that I could never reach back and live it again. Like the time I flew Betsy to Las Vegas to gamble for a few hours and give her a good time that she deserved.
The heart meds aren't working as well as they did before, I get dizzy and sort of stagger around the house, it scares me so much I'm afraid to go outside where I might plow into the concrete face first again.
When I went out yesterday, I actually walked in the grass instead of the sidewalk "just in case".
The antidepressants aren't working as well either. I guess I'll have to make that appointment with the psychiatrist about upping my dosage. I blew up at my sister in Pittsburgh today. Oh I meant every word, I just could've found a more diplomatic way to have said what I said. At least I didn't use the analogy of a vulture circling overhead waiting for me to die.
I feel so all alone today...
I've got to get busy working on a pill inventory for my next year's spreadsheet... well that's something, at least I still expect to be alive next year.
Sunday the 21st
I'm starting to get scared. The dizzy spells when I lose my balance are becoming more frequent. I spent most of yesterday either sleeping or working on preparing my 2009 spreadsheet. I've got only $157 left in checking after I paid January rent. This sucks. Thank god my car insurance is paid up for 6 months... Now all I have to be scared of is the electric bill.
I wish Santa Clause would send me a lover so I wouldn't have to be alone-God it's been about five years. I'm not talking sex here, I'm talking companionship and being the most important person in someones life.
Christmas is the hardest of all, because I wish I had enough to help out my friends in need like I used to. The humiliating thing is I'm the one in need now.
Yesterday was my Aunt Margaret's birthday-dear god she's 61, I hope I'm not the only one that remembered to call her.
We had a hell of an ice storm yesterday, I'm worried about my brother in Seattle. He drives a bus for a living and they got slammed with a snow/ice storm. I e-mailed him yesterday and reminded him he doesn't have a license to use a city bus in the demolition derby... I hope he got the good-natured joke.
I'm getting reaction to the Christmas card I made of the house we grew up in... but not really what I hoped for. I seem to be the only one in the whole family that has good memories of that house.
Monday the 22nd
It's gotten dangerously cold today, with wind chills as low as -15 degrees. I'd planned to hit the social security office today but couldn't get out. I've also got to get a code for returning the crap watch Amazon sent instead of the one I ordered.
I spent I lot of time thinking about suicide today; not mine, but of others that came before me. I guess the first person I ever knew who did was Michael Plake. The reason(s) he did aren't important, only that he did. I'm sitting here next to his piano, I used to think it was haunted. In gold leaf I had a little "in memory of" put on the name plate in front of the keys. It's a 1908 Winter & Company upright grand piano, which means it turned a hundred years old this year. That I see it every day when I sit down in front of this computer in my den is maybe what triggered such a gray day.
I'm told he took a bunch of pills, Put on Tod Rudgren, tied a garbage bag over his head and left this world for the next. I had two friends named Casey and K.C., one I loved, but I was still getting over my first love, so I was afraid to tell him so. K.C. died in a car accident before I admitted how I really felt about him. I had him semi-moved in to my apartment... and my heart. His heartless parents refused to allow me to go to his funeral, then changed their mind. At the time I arrived at the funeral home, they used his key to raid my apartment of anything that might be his, leaving me with nothing but regretful memories and a blue plaid shirt.
Casey went on to be a model, and very prominent in the adult movie industry. After he made his fortune, he moved back to New York and tried to make it on Broadway, and when that didn't work out he moved to his home state of Florida. A few months later he found out he had AIDS and put a gun in his mouth, that's back in the 80s when AIDS was a death sentence without the drugs they have now. I didn't find out until later.
Back when I had the capital in 2004, I lent a friend $45,000 to fix the roof of a popular bar he'd opened with a lot of hope after it was inspected and not up to code in Chicago. When local gangs started "fag-bashing" and knifing tires in his parking lot, he realized he couldn't pay me back. In early 2005 he called to find out how I was and when he found out how bad off I was, he tried for a few months to try to come up with a payment that I told him not to worry about... and he killed himself too.
Thinking of what their acts effected their loved ones, proves how bad an idea it was for each of them. I'm hoping I don't follow in their footsteps...
Tuesday the 23rd
I braved the cold and a prayer was answered for my car battery and she started right up. Wind chills are still in the negatives today. I went up to Wal-Mart and put in a stock of supplies.
I got a call today from Dr. S-heart's office, and after my appointment with Dr. Arm/knee on Monday, I should have a pretty good idea of when my open heart-triple bypass is. Now all I have to do is worry about whether or not I'll be getting disability because of all the confusing letters I've gotten from them.
I sent out e-mails about my watch, Watch Island is trying to say they're sold out of the particular watch I ordered, and tried to claim that the watch they sent was identical just a different color, which it wasn't by any stretch of the imagination. I threatened to write an article at BC about the whole experience and lo and behold, they said they were refunding my money, I could keep the watch that they finally admitted that they'd sent by mistake, and they'd get in touch with me when the one I wanted was available. I suspect it'll be $125 instead of the marked down price that Amazon.com quoted me.
groan
Christmas is getting closer and closer. With the imbalance in my brain causing the depression and all the prescriptions I'm taking, their interreactions are causing me to lose my temper at the slightest excuse. I've nearly cracked my keyboard in half twice just since I started this entry, because the delete key gets activated somehow and starts wiping out the following sentence, instead of adding to the beginning of it. This unpredictibility means spending another Christmas alone. It sucks being alone.
I have no choice, with the outburst of anger from them delaying my Cymbalta over a month and my trashing my apartment in a fit of rage, not only am I too weak to haul junk out to the dumpster on the opposite end of the complex, but I'm also too weak to clean up the disaster I created without colapsing in exhaustion or nearly passing out, so I'd be embarrassed to have guests here anyway.
Last night the dream was of my own voice crying out, "I don't want to be alone any more, I can't take being alone any more."
I'd finally gotten my life together over the last ten years with lots of friends, parties and trips all over the country, and now god has picked me up and put me back where I started.
I don't know if I have the strength to fight my way back up again.
Now that I know the aproximate date I'll have the open heart surgery, (between the 20th and the 25th) I'm afraid of dying again too.
I want to scream out "I can't do this any more!"
Wednesday the 24th
At 7AM I came close to crying for the first time in a long time. While going through the news, I was dealt another blow.
There were three loves of my early life, the house on Rouser Road (torn down in '68) the Greater Pittsburgh International airport (torn down and replaced in the late 90s and my love of cars... Specifically Pontiacs.
I grew up in an era where you only had to glance at a car to not only know its make, its model and its year, but its pedigree. Now it looks like the impossible may happen... again.
With the crisis in the auto industry, "more than just rumors" are flying around that Pontiac may suffer the same fate as Oldsmobile. My parents had Pontiacs all through my youth; my father even considered a brand new '73 Competition Orange GTO a family car. While working at a McDonald's as a janitor in my youth in Barberton OH, my co-workers secretly bought me an Oldsmobile 442 as a Christmas gift.
Three weeks before Christmas I was riding a 10-speed back and forth to work, and they decided to get me a car (that my sister Betsy somehow kept a secret was amazing). They began hinting around about what my first car would be and I immediately responded a Pontiac...
...this threw them into a panic. They immediately sold the 442 and bought an 8-year old Pontiac Lemans Sport. I loved that car so much and kept it running for another 11 years. I feel as crushed as I did when I was told I needed triple bypass surgery next month.
What else from my youth can disappear?
--------
Noon, the local newscast is broadcasting reports of Santa's progress in Australia. They're also doing recipes for Christmas treats, and it reminded me of the Gay Crisis shelter I helped build for teen that'd been heartlessly thrown out of their parent's house just for being gay. I used to spend days in my kitchen making cookies and treats. One day I cooked two turkeys and a bunch of mashed potatoes. I thought nothing of blowing $5-600 for one meal with them.
The city is in bad financial state and closed the shelter last month, along with 15 after-school recreation centers. It makes me sad to think about the smiles I used to bring to people. The director used to scream "Grab your toys and warn the men, the Pizza queen is here again!" as I'd show up with 30-40 Domino's pizzas at the door on Christmas evening, and then later they were Donatos.
Any reminder of Christmas hurts so much I want to cry, but can't, though I feel it welling up inside of me without any outlet or release. As little as two years ago I had the best Christmas display out on my balcony, now I didn't even put a wreath out on my door. The only thing out there is bags of garbage that I'm to weak to tote out to the dumpster.
Friends and family would be able to see how much I'm hurting, so I'm refusing any offer of a visit from anyone.
Thursday the 25th
I spent a lot of the last few days fighting off these anger/rages that come on without warning. It's one of the things that cause me to keep my friends away without explanation. Now that Dr. Heart's office has given me a 60 day window for my open heart surgery, fear-of-dying-adrenaline is playing hell with my brain chemistry. We've been trying to rebalance my prescriptions, but nothing seems to work, so I'm more and more alone and isolated.
What a time for Dr. Mind to take two weeks off for the holidays.
It hurts how much I used to look forward to Christmas months in advance, and now I dread it. I tried unsuccessfully to stay up all day and night yesterday, hoping to sleep all through today, but it didn't work.
Vicki and Don next door have their kids and grandkids over. Happy news, they seem to have gotten back together, at least for the holidays. I've spent the last 10-15 Christmases with them until this year. Now I don't dare make a sound, in case they hear me and invite me over. I hate to think what a thoughtless outburst could do to damage our friendship, so I'm laying low and quiet.
Their little kids keep bursting out of their door screaming in glee and running up and down the hallway playing with a toy car or a basketball. A couple of times I've wanted to shout angrily for them to shut up, so I know I have to keep away from everyone, and maybe not even answer the phone. Betsy's called me twice-She always gets answered. She has to work today at her Oregon prison. She's one person I feel safe with; her and Aunt Margaret. Last night I burned 6 sub buns in 3 sets because every time I'd put them in the toaster oven, someone would call from a doctor's office. I was short with Betsy on the last set, and apologized later for it.
Christmas dinner will be a box of stovetop stuffing with a can of Swanson's turkey meat mixed in, and a can of Diet Dr. Pepper. As a diabetic I shouldn't, but the bland diet minus sugar (diabetis) and salt (heart) just isn't going to make it today.
I almost wished I'd die in my sleep last night, but then thought better of it, it'd ruin the holiday for my family and friends to link the two events together.
The lesser of the two evils I guess is to stay alone in my self-inflicted isolation. Brenda e-mailed 7that she's sending me something for Christmas... bless her. It'll probably be the only present I get this year, and I'd be afraid to thank her on the phone for fear of what I might say, so I guess I'll e-mail. A lot less personal, but much safer.
Ho Ho Ho bah humbug...
Friday the 26th
11AM. I called Teresa this morning and made arrangements for her to come and check on the cat. I also offered her the last of my cash stash to come over and help me clean. After I get the spreadsheet programmed, I'll have the computer take care of sending out checks to the utilities and car payments.
I'm going to have to check with the lawyer about the will etc, and make sure my landlord knows that no one but Teresa may enter my apartment while I'm out for any reason what-so-ever. I tried to get ahold of Social Security Wednesday and everyone seems to have taken the week off for the holiday, so there's no sense in trying to go today, so I'll have to make a day of it Monday, since I have all of my doctors appointments anyway. I e-mailed GB about my heart and knee, but on one responded, so they're probably still out too.
When the triple bypass surgery was just a concept, I passed it off as no big thing, but now that it's a reality, I'm scareder than I thought I'd be since they nailed the date down to Jan 23rd.
I've got the weekend to get things in order before all the preoperative stuff starts. oy
Saturday the 27th
I was bombarded with mail today, none of which I understand, and there's so much of it, I'm having trouble comprehending it.
First, my sister Char was sweet enough to send me $100 today, and Brenda sent me a $20 in a Christmas card; god love them both. The electric bill due the 30th is for $126.80. That's how my life goes, damn it.
I went to Wal-Mart to get groceries and was floored when it came to $104 because I needed an ink cartridge for my printer to print out all these notices hoping Dr. Mind can help me comprehend them
I've gotten 5 half-inch-thick medicare books, apparently from the same company, but with different client numbers. I've started reading them and can't understand a word. I'm most worried because Social Security has started deducting over $100 a month from my disability checks so that instead of $487 I'll only getting $380 or so a month. I can't make heads nor tails of if I can be saved by Medicaid; every time I contact them or SS Disability, I get a different amount I owe them or what my monthly check will be, and every time I try to contact them, the monthly check gets less and less.
This stress both emotional and physical is tearing me apart to the point where I can't function. On top of all that, GB is demanding that I go to doctors of their choosing to confirm that I'm still hurt enough to be eligible for workman's comp payments, and want me to see some doctor the first week of January, in the middle of trying to get to the heart clinic, WorkHealth clinic and all the appointments I have to be at regarding my knee and my heart. On top of that they're demanding that I go there instead of seeing Dr. Mind Wednesday after next, even though I'll have not seen her for two weeks by then.
They're adding stress to every aspect of my life by constantantly demanding I be here there and everywhere at least once a month, when it used to be only once every two or even three months. That means hassles when prescriptions are only written a month at a time, and unauthorized when they're "reviewing" my case.
I keep getting letters from "Chrysler" saying the warrantee on my car is expired, even though I confirmed with my dealership that it hasn't. No matter how many people I tell this to, they won't stop sending me "final notices" and bills for coverage I'm getting free.
I go to sleep and can't, I'm having chest pains that only the nitro glycerin pills seem to help. My cardiologists seem to be delaying my operation because they don't know if Medicare or Medicaid is going to pay for the damned thing or not, and as long as all of this is going on, I can't get my left eye operated on so I can see out of it... probably for months
On top of all that, with the angry outbursts that seem to come out of me without warning, I have forced myself to suffer this alone... I mean really alone, because I'm afraid of pushing away what few friends I have left.
God, I need Dr. Mind, and I won't see her for at least another ten days. I hope I can hold out. I'm really fucking up bad, because I've started hoarding medicines and cutting pills in half because GB can and has in the past taken away the prescription help at any moment without warning, and I can't afford full price of close to $275-300 in pills a month.
I'm probably killing myself by not taking pills that I should be, but what choice do I have? As it is I'm eating cheap food loaded with sugar and salt, because it's all I can afford, and with the threat of not getting a disability check in January, I'm back to one meal a day until I'm sure.
I'm so afraid of it sometimes, but there are times like now when taking my own life would be the most painless way out.
Though I'm still too much of a coward to do it.
Sunday the 28th
Got an e-mail from Brenda, she says she reads this every day, I don't know why, but somehow only now did it hit me that people that I actually know read this. It got me to thinking about why I'm writing it here instead of privately... probably because every journal I've ever kept by hand or on computer turned into a "once in a while thing" where I'm pretty much keeping this one every day.
I think it came down to, that when I think about death, I've become more and more convinced that I'll just go into nonexistance-nothing no suffering, no passage of time, no conscious awareness past that last heartbeat, and that maybe no one will ever know I was here. This forum is a little more long lasting, and it's better than a tombstone, as long after I'm gone, it'll still be here, and would go a hell of a lot farther to explain who I was than a name briefly glimpsed and then forgotten on an unfamiliar grave marker... especially if I wind up cremated.
My father's computer is on top of the piano beside me. I've removed the hard drive and will be destroying his journals before they can hurt someone. Why he decided to torture me with the responsibility is anyone's guess, but I will carry out that last task before I go.
Affairs with women in West Virginia, trists with women in Florida and Germany, claiming to be on a supply mission to Viet Nam, all the while in a woman's bed in New York. Hateful things written not only about me, but everyone in our family. How he conned my uncle out of tens of thousands of dollars, only to lose it all in the stock market and gambling in Las Vegas.
I don't know, maybe he thought I'd gleefully distribute copies to everyone to spite him, not thinking ahead to how much pain it'd cause to so many people. I'm sure that's why my mom and sister are so determined to be here in my absence while I'm in the hospital, but that hard drive will be baked in the oven to destroy the data, then discarded in an undisclosed dumpster before I let that happen. They may think of me as the unwanted, unloved, pervert and evil bastard of the family, but I care about the effect it'd have on them despite that.
.......
I woke up this morning at 7:05AM and couldn't tell if it was morning or evening. Shortly after I started working on my 2009 financial spreadsheet. Things are going to be tough the first couple of months financially until I get the Disability check thing figured out, but I have one savior; while I'm in the hospital for several weeks, Medicare will be buying my food and drugs. If I time it right and pick up my prescriptions just before I go in for the heart operation on the 25th, I could pick up a month in unused pills towards the security of not worrying if GB is going to suddenly cut me off, or social security.
Anyway I stayed awake til just past 11AM and got really drowsey, so I had to go back to bed. I don't know if it's physical effects from Depression, or my heart. Either way I've unwillingly gone back to sleeping 6 hours and being awake 6, which means a lot of times I don't know what day it is because humans have a tendency to consider the last time they were awake as "yesterday" which doesn't work in my case.
I've got to remember to set the clock radio for the doctor's appointment about my arm, and remember to ask for the x-ray to take with me to the GB exam.
I'm back to writing complex math formulas in spreadsheet cells, and it makes me miss the "good ole days" when I did it for a living, and making some good money from small businesses and friends. What makes me feel even better is that I'm doing them in my head instead of on paper.
...in some ways I've still "got it" anyway.
Monday the 29th
I went over my medicare/medicaid paperwork and still can't make heads nor tails of it. I've begun to suspect that companies that aren't officially with either one are sending me junk mail, hoping I'll use their card, and I'll have to suddenly pay a bunch of fees I wasn't aware of.
I have to see Dr. Foot/arm at 1:20 then do a bunch of other errands, I'll also have to deposit Char's check so it'll clear before the check to the electric company get's cashed. My whole life I've never bounced a check, I won't start now.
Dr. Foot/Arm says my arm is completely healed.
That encouraged a smile out of me.
Then he told me that GB has been on his office to sign a statement saying that I wouldn't survive the knee operation after my heart operation, and asked him to say there was no point in doing the knee because of it, and to declare me "MMI" which is maximum medical improvement...
...Mind you my leg still looks like a clock that reads 7 O'clock/
She sent me an e-mail this morning informing me that since I'm still considered an employee of "the pizza shop" that they have programs that might be able to assist me... I almost fell for it, until she added that I was to contact her immediately if I even try to call them... which sounds like yet another plot to dump me from their payroll. These are the same people that forced me to put in 15/5 applications a week in order to continue getting my checks-BECAUSE THEY IMPLIED I WASN'T AN EMPLOYEE!!! and I was instructed more than once to say "no" when asked if I were currently employed on my applications.
Time to talk to my lawyer again.
Anyway, Dr. Knee says I should make it through the heart surgery stuff just fine, and then to contact him about my knee afterward. He also might just recommend the artificial knee after all.
I feel really betrayed for trusting the woman at GB who keeps sending me warm friendly e-mails, only to find out she's trying to stab me in the back. Now all I have to do is figure out a way to calm down and lower my blood pressure.
I may come through this not trusting anyone ever again... especially after learning some time ago that Dr. Mind is being forced to turn over her notes to GB/Workman's comp. How can I possible get any positive results from seeing a shrink if it's obvious that what I'm telling her is being broadcast to a bunch of strangers, looking for any tiny excuse to dump me high and dry?
I don't goddamned believe it... on second thought I do. Wal-Mart just called to say my doctor faxxed them a prescription for my vitamins. It should be free under medicaid, so I asked if they were, he said no, because I'm no longer covered. I said I was covered under Medicare part D (at over $100 a month I damned well better be), he said that particular drug (vitamins??????) isn't covered under part D, and that I'd have to pay for it.
I told him to put them back on my profile, and I'd straighten it out the next time I came in with all my new cards. I have this sinking feeling I won't be able to get my January prescriptions. It's a toss up if I'm going to cry or put my fist through a wall, and I can feel my mental state crumbling, worrying what's going to happen next?
Tuesday the 30th
Finally got myself together enough to drive all the way out to Ohio State's traffic division this afternoon to pay the parking ticket, only to find that Dr. Mind was wrong; her appeal was on the computer, and I'd be notified sometime in a few weeks if I have to pay it and if I can buy a permit, so I can park.
A jackass named JOM who's a thorn in my side commenter at BlogCritics Magazine has resurfaced again as "Hope and Change", spewing ultra-rightwing, false, and misleading bullshit all over the place. Fortunately I haven't published an article in a while, so he's doing it on other's less deserving. At least I'm finding a healthy outlet for my rages.
I'm trying to make arrangements for getting help while I'm in the hospital with feeding Mischief and making sure she's not left alone. I'm never sure about T until she actually does it. She's never let me down, but I don't know until that day.
I must be jealous because she has a life and I don't...
..............
Well, now that the news is out, I can say that the first of our family has been hit by the economy. My nephew B is a gulf war vet, who came home to only be able to find work as a mechanic (despite big promises made and broken by the military about post service education and help; My younger brother-who is also a gulf veteran, (whom I'm very proud of) is a city bus driver in Seattle for the same reason-not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's not what was expected coming out of 20 years service.) My sister B called me wanting to know if I had any suggestions on how to help him, since I'm closest to where he lives and it hurt like hell to admit that I couldn't, as I'm usually ready and able until recently to help anyone in need.
There was talk of him coming here and taking care of me after my heart surgery next month, but I didn't think it'd work out as I'll require someone with EMT or better training, and I only have one bedroom. That and his ex-wife doing everything she can think of to make trouble for him. He was screwed over by a boss who did faulty work on a car, and B suffered the consequences for pointing it out to the customer after he returned to complained... now they've both lost their jobs.
I love every one of my family, despite their feelings towards me.
Five years ago I'd have mailed him a check for at least $500 so he can get home to Oregon, now I can't spare 10. This sucks so bad...
...I'm going to go to bed tonight and ask God a few questions... Well, I'm going to use what little faith I have left to pose a few inquiries.
Why give me the talent to create great art, only to take away my state of mind needed to create it?
Why give me the opportunities to accumulate some wealth and success only to have them vanish before my eyes. The ability to help out friends financially, to help out family that I care for without asking anything in return, to do great things financially in my community, only to watch it slip through my fingers.
Why give me the ability to create a great body, that opened doors on the west coast for wonderful opportunities, only to see it disolve away before anyone could see it?
Why take what peace of mind I have away from me?
Why give me so many close friends that I cared about, partied with and cared for, only to see them all be forced to move away?
I used to be able to feel god's love. I remember my righteous anger at people who said I should fear god instead of love him... now it's gone.
How can I keep living, if I'm losing the fear of death?
I'm losing my sanity; sometimes I can feel it, and yet there's the old Jet inside of me compartmentalized in some safe place where I can pull him out when I write an article, or have a political fight with someone on BC... but why can't I get him to stay?
It's like the nightmare I used to have where my old self from 1988 comes forward in time and sees me now with my heart conditions, my depression and my loss of confidence and decides he doesn't want to see that future for himself, so he puts a gun in his mouth, and I wake up screaming.
I used to be able to ride a 10-speed 10 miles a day to and from work without breaking a sweat winter, spring, summer or fall... Now I can't walk to my car without gasping for breath.
I've relied on my faith in God to get me through the tough times, making it a point to thank him for the good times and the strength to endure the bad times.
...why?
Hit the ground running and paid the electric and phone on line. I'm planning to take my temp/title and finally buy plates for the car, then hand carry the documents over to my caseworker and try to get this shit with my disability check resolved. My direct deposit for December was only $328 and I'm going to be in some serious hurting if I don't get it done.
These depression symptoms are holding me back, and I've got to find some way to defeat them. I see Dr. Mind this afternoon and this being frozen for hours at a time has got to stop.
I still haven't heard from Dr. S-heart, though Dr. P-knee sent him permission to operate on my heart. I have a feeling GB's just waiting for an excuse to cut me off, so I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands.
-------------------------------
I should've known better than to think I could take control of a runaway train/life. I came home to pick up some extra paperwork I needed and found a letter from Social Security saying that because some clerk had put in that I was getting paid twice a month instead of every two weeks, I'd received over payments from Disability over the last three years totalling $2,424, which means the full amount of my monthly disability checks will be withheld by them until it's fully paid back. I won't see a check from disability until June of next year and then it'll only be a partial one. On top of that I'll be billed an additional $124 that I can't afford a month for Medicare coverage, meaning my only income will be from GB/workman's comp, whose only purpose in life is to find a way to cut off my checks.
-------------
It's 5:20 in the morning. I can't make the rent and car payment on $882 a month, much less heart prescriptions, utilities and groceries. It's all so hopeless. Over the last couple of weeks I've seen a couple of social workers and none can untangle this mess, much less explain it so I can understand it.
I'm still looking at triple bypass surgery on my heart, and operations to my knee. By February I'll have lost my car that I fought for so hard and I'll probably be evicted from my home of over 21 years by my birthday in May.
In front of me is a clear plastic glass, containing all of my heart, blood pressure pills, Plavix and Percocet/Oxycodone. beside it is a big glass of diet Dr. Pepper. The coward in me is stronger than I thought, I've just spent half an hour sorting them back into their individual bottles. I feel so defeated
It's amazing how my life can go from up to devastation in the space of a day. I'm going to call Dr. Mind tomorrow and see if I can get an additional appointment with her. If not I may not make it through the weekend.
How much more can I take?
Not much I'm afraid
Thursday the 4th
Throughout the night things just kept building up in me last night. This morning I made an effort to get ahold of Social Security, but gave up. I called Dr. Mind's secretary and found she had an 8AM opening, so I went to meet with her and she confirmed my fear that I'd read the paperwork right; I'll get nothing from Disability until July of next year because of some 3-4 year old paperwork fuckup to the tune of almost $2,500.
Apparently I looked so devastated, she wanted to admit me on an inpatient basis, but I resisted that because I have no one to take car of Mischief.
I meant to drive straight home and found myself on the other side of town instead and went to Wal-Mart. I bought enough food to last me til maybe Christmas... I hope.
I fought so hard to get the trust of everyone at Hunting***, and I hate that I may let them down. With only $880 a month, it'll come down to either the rent, or the car-but not both. It's so overwhelming, that I came home and slept until 8:30 this evening.
I can't get that glass of pills out of my head from last night.
Friday the 5th
I slept straight through today, waking up maybe an hour or so, before becoming so sleepy I had to lay back down again.
This was punctuated by phone calls from Dr. Mind telling me that she finally got through to Social Security, and that they said the letter I got was computer generated, and that they were only going to deduct $45 a month until it was paid back.
I fucking almost killed myself over the prospect of losing most of my income for the next 6-months over a letter they said to ignore?
I honestly don't know how much of this I can take.
I finally woke up around 9PM and I've been rattling around the house ever since.
Why don't I have an ulcer?
Sunday the 7th
I wish I could get out from under the physical effects of depression. I should be jumping for joy and yet I'm still tired and sleepy... at least I hope it's depression. It could be my heart for all I know. Dr. Mind called me yesterday afternoon to check up on me, but other than that it was uneventful (if you want to say snowing like crazy uneventful).
It's 4:59PM and I just woke up. My phone is going to get one hell of a workout tomorrow. Adsense, the company that places advertisements on my sites sent me a very nasty e-mail yesterday threatening me because I'd put little notes asking readers to click on their ads. I thought they'd want me to, but noooooo, I'm not allowed to draw attention to them at all. Apparently I get paid by how many clicks, and if they're not from genuine interest I'd get nothing. Jesushosannachrist. I only get something like three cents a click and over the last three years I've cumulatively made about $25, and they don't send you a check until you hit $100. I've been thinking of pulling their ads completely for the space they uselessly take up anyway.
Time to shoot up some insulin and eat...
Wednesday the 10th
I got another letter from Social Security and the totals didn't match what Dr. Mind said I'd get. I took it with me to our session today and she seemed worried and warned me to watch my cash closely in case they take their good old time with the paperwork and don't send me a check for January.
I got a parking ticket at OSU. they have a whole line of handicap slots near the door to Dr. Mind's building. Only four or five are regular handicapped, the rest require a permit from the emergency room. $35 I can't afford.
I did accomplish one thing, I finally got out to the deputy registrar and bought the correct license plates for the car. They wouldn't give me credit for the year's worth I bought in July. Expected I guess. On top of that I'll have to buy new plates in May.
I sent out the painting of the house I grew up in to the family as a Christmas card on Tuesday. No one responded. I feel kinda stupid that I thought they might. My brother sent along the e-mail address of D's son, my nephew, when he sent out his mass thanksgiving card, so I sent one to him. This is the nephew I'm told that she never even told that I existed. I met him for the first time at my father's funeral in 2006 and he seemed like a nice enough guy.
God knows hew she explained that she'd never spoke of me to them. She probably said I'd been in jail or out of the country or something and that she was ashamed of me.
Anyway he just got married a few months ago, I'm just finding this out, so I sent along belated congratulations and a long letter with memories of growing up on Rouser Road.
I can't straighten out my sleep schedule, it's all over the place.
Next chore is to get my car insurance straightened out, and to take all my paperwork to Social Security and then Medicaid to see if I can get Medicaid to pay for my Medicare so I don't have $100+ deducted from my checks.
The last couple of days I haven't drempt anything, or nothing I can remember. No nightmares no flash backs. I hate not taking my pills when I'm supposed to, I'm trying to hoard back as much as I can in case GB pulls my prescription help.
Sunday the 14th
Woke up around 2AM. The last two days have been spent trying to figure out my finances, and hoping the weather would clear up long enough to go out and get supplies.
It really bothers me that I can sit down somewhere and go into sort of a mental coma, think a half an hour has passed and it's been three or four. I don't fall asleep, or at least I don't think I do. It's supposed to be up in the 50s today so I'm compiling a list of supplies for the next week.
I called Dr. S-heart's office Friday but the secretary was on another line and said she'd call me back, which she didn't. I've got a GB medical exam tomorrow afternoon, so I'll try to call him again in the morning.
I've been thinking about death to much lately. I'm becoming more and more convinced that it's the same non-existence as when I was born. I'll just stop being. It worries me as I become less and less afraid of it.
It was in the 50s today, unfortunately too cold to put the top down. Went over to Wal-mart and sat an hour waiting for a handicapped motorized cart. When I finally got one it died in the meat department, and by the time I got my stuff, I was exhausted.
Checked Fri & Sat's mail and found the watch I ordered crumpled in bubble wrap in my little apt mailbox instead of in a protective cardboard shipping box... they sent me the wrong watch. I should've seen it coming. The one they sent looks super cheap and I'm in the process of writing a blistering letter to them, and a furious article for BC.
Couldn't keep my eyes open past 8PM and woke around 3, Knocking around the house ever since.
Monday's going to be a bitch...
Tuesday the 16th
I got an e-mail from GB wanting to know why I haven't had the knee surgery again. I've only explained it a hundred times. Dr S-heart never got authorization from Dr. P-arm/knee to do the triple bypass on me, so I'm trapped between two nurse's voice-mails. Social Security sent yet another letter that doesn't match the dozen or so I've gotten, so I'm back to not knowing how much I'll get beginning Jan 1.
We had a snow storm today, with the threat of a bigger one tonight, so I went and got supplies over at Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart pharmacy called to say Dr. S-clinic finally phoned in my prescriptions, but I have to wait a week to get the rest of my 14 different pills because Medicare won't pay for them if it's been less than 30 days of my last refill.
All this and it's only 4PM.
I've become obsessed thinking about death and what happens to you after you die. Dr. Mind says it's okay, it's when I don't think about it out loud that most people do it.
My whole world, my whole life has shrunk from traveling all over the country, having fun and lots of money, to sitting in front of this computer day in and day out because I'm afraid of strangers and have pushed what friends I have left away months/years ago.
I've got to figure out where the money for the damned OSU parking ticket is going to come from too.
Sometimes I wonder where my hope comes from.
Wednesday the 17th
Dr. Mind is going to see about fixing my parking ticket (God love her.) She's going to be gone the next two weeks over Christmas and New Years, just when I'll need her the most with trying to straighten out this Disability bullshit... that and I really don't look forward to spending it all alone. I'll probably do what I did over Thanksgiving; not sleep very much, and then sleep all day through it.
I drove over to my Chrysler dealership for my 42,000 mile oil change. I decided that I'd find out if my warranty for 7 year-70,000 was still good, and they said that as long as the car was only in my name, the drive train warranty would be good. That means I still have to follow the guidelines in the warranty book. Since I own a luxury car, they assume I can afford all the "every 3000 mile" expensive required checks, like the oxygen sensor, the transmission, and all the electronic stuff.
alas.
Went up to Wal-mart and picked up this month's prescriptions. Dr. Clinic added the damned huge horse pills for low potassium that I nearly gag on trying to swallow. Oh well.
I worked on the painting of the house we grew up in on Rouser Road tonight, and added Mom and Dad at the back door all bundled up against the snow carrying groceries. I left it kind of ambiguous as to who they were, so anyone can imagine anyone there since they're so bundled up.
I'm going to e-mail it out tomorrow morning. no one wrote back after I sent it the first time.
Thursday the 18th
Brock called me from New Orleans this afternoon, and reminded be of all the fun we used to have in San Diego. He's my hero, he did exactly what I would've done. His family was wiped out by Katrina and he dropped everything, sold his business and used every cent to help the people he loved.
The only thing is it hurt so much to know that I'll never have that life again. Brian and I used to love flying his business jet, laying over in Las Vegas' McClaren. I ache sometimes that I could never reach back and live it again. Like the time I flew Betsy to Las Vegas to gamble for a few hours and give her a good time that she deserved.
The heart meds aren't working as well as they did before, I get dizzy and sort of stagger around the house, it scares me so much I'm afraid to go outside where I might plow into the concrete face first again.
When I went out yesterday, I actually walked in the grass instead of the sidewalk "just in case".
The antidepressants aren't working as well either. I guess I'll have to make that appointment with the psychiatrist about upping my dosage. I blew up at my sister in Pittsburgh today. Oh I meant every word, I just could've found a more diplomatic way to have said what I said. At least I didn't use the analogy of a vulture circling overhead waiting for me to die.
I feel so all alone today...
I've got to get busy working on a pill inventory for my next year's spreadsheet... well that's something, at least I still expect to be alive next year.
Sunday the 21st
I'm starting to get scared. The dizzy spells when I lose my balance are becoming more frequent. I spent most of yesterday either sleeping or working on preparing my 2009 spreadsheet. I've got only $157 left in checking after I paid January rent. This sucks. Thank god my car insurance is paid up for 6 months... Now all I have to be scared of is the electric bill.
I wish Santa Clause would send me a lover so I wouldn't have to be alone-God it's been about five years. I'm not talking sex here, I'm talking companionship and being the most important person in someones life.
Christmas is the hardest of all, because I wish I had enough to help out my friends in need like I used to. The humiliating thing is I'm the one in need now.
Yesterday was my Aunt Margaret's birthday-dear god she's 61, I hope I'm not the only one that remembered to call her.
We had a hell of an ice storm yesterday, I'm worried about my brother in Seattle. He drives a bus for a living and they got slammed with a snow/ice storm. I e-mailed him yesterday and reminded him he doesn't have a license to use a city bus in the demolition derby... I hope he got the good-natured joke.
I'm getting reaction to the Christmas card I made of the house we grew up in... but not really what I hoped for. I seem to be the only one in the whole family that has good memories of that house.
Monday the 22nd
It's gotten dangerously cold today, with wind chills as low as -15 degrees. I'd planned to hit the social security office today but couldn't get out. I've also got to get a code for returning the crap watch Amazon sent instead of the one I ordered.
I spent I lot of time thinking about suicide today; not mine, but of others that came before me. I guess the first person I ever knew who did was Michael Plake. The reason(s) he did aren't important, only that he did. I'm sitting here next to his piano, I used to think it was haunted. In gold leaf I had a little "in memory of" put on the name plate in front of the keys. It's a 1908 Winter & Company upright grand piano, which means it turned a hundred years old this year. That I see it every day when I sit down in front of this computer in my den is maybe what triggered such a gray day.
I'm told he took a bunch of pills, Put on Tod Rudgren, tied a garbage bag over his head and left this world for the next. I had two friends named Casey and K.C., one I loved, but I was still getting over my first love, so I was afraid to tell him so. K.C. died in a car accident before I admitted how I really felt about him. I had him semi-moved in to my apartment... and my heart. His heartless parents refused to allow me to go to his funeral, then changed their mind. At the time I arrived at the funeral home, they used his key to raid my apartment of anything that might be his, leaving me with nothing but regretful memories and a blue plaid shirt.
Casey went on to be a model, and very prominent in the adult movie industry. After he made his fortune, he moved back to New York and tried to make it on Broadway, and when that didn't work out he moved to his home state of Florida. A few months later he found out he had AIDS and put a gun in his mouth, that's back in the 80s when AIDS was a death sentence without the drugs they have now. I didn't find out until later.
Back when I had the capital in 2004, I lent a friend $45,000 to fix the roof of a popular bar he'd opened with a lot of hope after it was inspected and not up to code in Chicago. When local gangs started "fag-bashing" and knifing tires in his parking lot, he realized he couldn't pay me back. In early 2005 he called to find out how I was and when he found out how bad off I was, he tried for a few months to try to come up with a payment that I told him not to worry about... and he killed himself too.
Thinking of what their acts effected their loved ones, proves how bad an idea it was for each of them. I'm hoping I don't follow in their footsteps...
Tuesday the 23rd
I braved the cold and a prayer was answered for my car battery and she started right up. Wind chills are still in the negatives today. I went up to Wal-Mart and put in a stock of supplies.
I got a call today from Dr. S-heart's office, and after my appointment with Dr. Arm/knee on Monday, I should have a pretty good idea of when my open heart-triple bypass is. Now all I have to do is worry about whether or not I'll be getting disability because of all the confusing letters I've gotten from them.
I sent out e-mails about my watch, Watch Island is trying to say they're sold out of the particular watch I ordered, and tried to claim that the watch they sent was identical just a different color, which it wasn't by any stretch of the imagination. I threatened to write an article at BC about the whole experience and lo and behold, they said they were refunding my money, I could keep the watch that they finally admitted that they'd sent by mistake, and they'd get in touch with me when the one I wanted was available. I suspect it'll be $125 instead of the marked down price that Amazon.com quoted me.
groan
Christmas is getting closer and closer. With the imbalance in my brain causing the depression and all the prescriptions I'm taking, their interreactions are causing me to lose my temper at the slightest excuse. I've nearly cracked my keyboard in half twice just since I started this entry, because the delete key gets activated somehow and starts wiping out the following sentence, instead of adding to the beginning of it. This unpredictibility means spending another Christmas alone. It sucks being alone.
I have no choice, with the outburst of anger from them delaying my Cymbalta over a month and my trashing my apartment in a fit of rage, not only am I too weak to haul junk out to the dumpster on the opposite end of the complex, but I'm also too weak to clean up the disaster I created without colapsing in exhaustion or nearly passing out, so I'd be embarrassed to have guests here anyway.
Last night the dream was of my own voice crying out, "I don't want to be alone any more, I can't take being alone any more."
I'd finally gotten my life together over the last ten years with lots of friends, parties and trips all over the country, and now god has picked me up and put me back where I started.
I don't know if I have the strength to fight my way back up again.
Now that I know the aproximate date I'll have the open heart surgery, (between the 20th and the 25th) I'm afraid of dying again too.
I want to scream out "I can't do this any more!"
Wednesday the 24th
At 7AM I came close to crying for the first time in a long time. While going through the news, I was dealt another blow.
There were three loves of my early life, the house on Rouser Road (torn down in '68) the Greater Pittsburgh International airport (torn down and replaced in the late 90s and my love of cars... Specifically Pontiacs.
I grew up in an era where you only had to glance at a car to not only know its make, its model and its year, but its pedigree. Now it looks like the impossible may happen... again.
With the crisis in the auto industry, "more than just rumors" are flying around that Pontiac may suffer the same fate as Oldsmobile. My parents had Pontiacs all through my youth; my father even considered a brand new '73 Competition Orange GTO a family car. While working at a McDonald's as a janitor in my youth in Barberton OH, my co-workers secretly bought me an Oldsmobile 442 as a Christmas gift.
Three weeks before Christmas I was riding a 10-speed back and forth to work, and they decided to get me a car (that my sister Betsy somehow kept a secret was amazing). They began hinting around about what my first car would be and I immediately responded a Pontiac...
...this threw them into a panic. They immediately sold the 442 and bought an 8-year old Pontiac Lemans Sport. I loved that car so much and kept it running for another 11 years. I feel as crushed as I did when I was told I needed triple bypass surgery next month.
What else from my youth can disappear?
--------
Noon, the local newscast is broadcasting reports of Santa's progress in Australia. They're also doing recipes for Christmas treats, and it reminded me of the Gay Crisis shelter I helped build for teen that'd been heartlessly thrown out of their parent's house just for being gay. I used to spend days in my kitchen making cookies and treats. One day I cooked two turkeys and a bunch of mashed potatoes. I thought nothing of blowing $5-600 for one meal with them.
The city is in bad financial state and closed the shelter last month, along with 15 after-school recreation centers. It makes me sad to think about the smiles I used to bring to people. The director used to scream "Grab your toys and warn the men, the Pizza queen is here again!" as I'd show up with 30-40 Domino's pizzas at the door on Christmas evening, and then later they were Donatos.
Any reminder of Christmas hurts so much I want to cry, but can't, though I feel it welling up inside of me without any outlet or release. As little as two years ago I had the best Christmas display out on my balcony, now I didn't even put a wreath out on my door. The only thing out there is bags of garbage that I'm to weak to tote out to the dumpster.
Friends and family would be able to see how much I'm hurting, so I'm refusing any offer of a visit from anyone.
Thursday the 25th
I spent a lot of the last few days fighting off these anger/rages that come on without warning. It's one of the things that cause me to keep my friends away without explanation. Now that Dr. Heart's office has given me a 60 day window for my open heart surgery, fear-of-dying-adrenaline is playing hell with my brain chemistry. We've been trying to rebalance my prescriptions, but nothing seems to work, so I'm more and more alone and isolated.
What a time for Dr. Mind to take two weeks off for the holidays.
It hurts how much I used to look forward to Christmas months in advance, and now I dread it. I tried unsuccessfully to stay up all day and night yesterday, hoping to sleep all through today, but it didn't work.
Vicki and Don next door have their kids and grandkids over. Happy news, they seem to have gotten back together, at least for the holidays. I've spent the last 10-15 Christmases with them until this year. Now I don't dare make a sound, in case they hear me and invite me over. I hate to think what a thoughtless outburst could do to damage our friendship, so I'm laying low and quiet.
Their little kids keep bursting out of their door screaming in glee and running up and down the hallway playing with a toy car or a basketball. A couple of times I've wanted to shout angrily for them to shut up, so I know I have to keep away from everyone, and maybe not even answer the phone. Betsy's called me twice-She always gets answered. She has to work today at her Oregon prison. She's one person I feel safe with; her and Aunt Margaret. Last night I burned 6 sub buns in 3 sets because every time I'd put them in the toaster oven, someone would call from a doctor's office. I was short with Betsy on the last set, and apologized later for it.
Christmas dinner will be a box of stovetop stuffing with a can of Swanson's turkey meat mixed in, and a can of Diet Dr. Pepper. As a diabetic I shouldn't, but the bland diet minus sugar (diabetis) and salt (heart) just isn't going to make it today.
I almost wished I'd die in my sleep last night, but then thought better of it, it'd ruin the holiday for my family and friends to link the two events together.
The lesser of the two evils I guess is to stay alone in my self-inflicted isolation. Brenda e-mailed 7that she's sending me something for Christmas... bless her. It'll probably be the only present I get this year, and I'd be afraid to thank her on the phone for fear of what I might say, so I guess I'll e-mail. A lot less personal, but much safer.
Ho Ho Ho bah humbug...
Friday the 26th
11AM. I called Teresa this morning and made arrangements for her to come and check on the cat. I also offered her the last of my cash stash to come over and help me clean. After I get the spreadsheet programmed, I'll have the computer take care of sending out checks to the utilities and car payments.
I'm going to have to check with the lawyer about the will etc, and make sure my landlord knows that no one but Teresa may enter my apartment while I'm out for any reason what-so-ever. I tried to get ahold of Social Security Wednesday and everyone seems to have taken the week off for the holiday, so there's no sense in trying to go today, so I'll have to make a day of it Monday, since I have all of my doctors appointments anyway. I e-mailed GB about my heart and knee, but on one responded, so they're probably still out too.
When the triple bypass surgery was just a concept, I passed it off as no big thing, but now that it's a reality, I'm scareder than I thought I'd be since they nailed the date down to Jan 23rd.
I've got the weekend to get things in order before all the preoperative stuff starts. oy
Saturday the 27th
I was bombarded with mail today, none of which I understand, and there's so much of it, I'm having trouble comprehending it.
First, my sister Char was sweet enough to send me $100 today, and Brenda sent me a $20 in a Christmas card; god love them both. The electric bill due the 30th is for $126.80. That's how my life goes, damn it.
I went to Wal-Mart to get groceries and was floored when it came to $104 because I needed an ink cartridge for my printer to print out all these notices hoping Dr. Mind can help me comprehend them
I've gotten 5 half-inch-thick medicare books, apparently from the same company, but with different client numbers. I've started reading them and can't understand a word. I'm most worried because Social Security has started deducting over $100 a month from my disability checks so that instead of $487 I'll only getting $380 or so a month. I can't make heads nor tails of if I can be saved by Medicaid; every time I contact them or SS Disability, I get a different amount I owe them or what my monthly check will be, and every time I try to contact them, the monthly check gets less and less.
This stress both emotional and physical is tearing me apart to the point where I can't function. On top of all that, GB is demanding that I go to doctors of their choosing to confirm that I'm still hurt enough to be eligible for workman's comp payments, and want me to see some doctor the first week of January, in the middle of trying to get to the heart clinic, WorkHealth clinic and all the appointments I have to be at regarding my knee and my heart. On top of that they're demanding that I go there instead of seeing Dr. Mind Wednesday after next, even though I'll have not seen her for two weeks by then.
They're adding stress to every aspect of my life by constantantly demanding I be here there and everywhere at least once a month, when it used to be only once every two or even three months. That means hassles when prescriptions are only written a month at a time, and unauthorized when they're "reviewing" my case.
I keep getting letters from "Chrysler" saying the warrantee on my car is expired, even though I confirmed with my dealership that it hasn't. No matter how many people I tell this to, they won't stop sending me "final notices" and bills for coverage I'm getting free.
I go to sleep and can't, I'm having chest pains that only the nitro glycerin pills seem to help. My cardiologists seem to be delaying my operation because they don't know if Medicare or Medicaid is going to pay for the damned thing or not, and as long as all of this is going on, I can't get my left eye operated on so I can see out of it... probably for months
On top of all that, with the angry outbursts that seem to come out of me without warning, I have forced myself to suffer this alone... I mean really alone, because I'm afraid of pushing away what few friends I have left.
God, I need Dr. Mind, and I won't see her for at least another ten days. I hope I can hold out. I'm really fucking up bad, because I've started hoarding medicines and cutting pills in half because GB can and has in the past taken away the prescription help at any moment without warning, and I can't afford full price of close to $275-300 in pills a month.
I'm probably killing myself by not taking pills that I should be, but what choice do I have? As it is I'm eating cheap food loaded with sugar and salt, because it's all I can afford, and with the threat of not getting a disability check in January, I'm back to one meal a day until I'm sure.
I'm so afraid of it sometimes, but there are times like now when taking my own life would be the most painless way out.
Though I'm still too much of a coward to do it.
Sunday the 28th
Got an e-mail from Brenda, she says she reads this every day, I don't know why, but somehow only now did it hit me that people that I actually know read this. It got me to thinking about why I'm writing it here instead of privately... probably because every journal I've ever kept by hand or on computer turned into a "once in a while thing" where I'm pretty much keeping this one every day.
I think it came down to, that when I think about death, I've become more and more convinced that I'll just go into nonexistance-nothing no suffering, no passage of time, no conscious awareness past that last heartbeat, and that maybe no one will ever know I was here. This forum is a little more long lasting, and it's better than a tombstone, as long after I'm gone, it'll still be here, and would go a hell of a lot farther to explain who I was than a name briefly glimpsed and then forgotten on an unfamiliar grave marker... especially if I wind up cremated.
My father's computer is on top of the piano beside me. I've removed the hard drive and will be destroying his journals before they can hurt someone. Why he decided to torture me with the responsibility is anyone's guess, but I will carry out that last task before I go.
Affairs with women in West Virginia, trists with women in Florida and Germany, claiming to be on a supply mission to Viet Nam, all the while in a woman's bed in New York. Hateful things written not only about me, but everyone in our family. How he conned my uncle out of tens of thousands of dollars, only to lose it all in the stock market and gambling in Las Vegas.
I don't know, maybe he thought I'd gleefully distribute copies to everyone to spite him, not thinking ahead to how much pain it'd cause to so many people. I'm sure that's why my mom and sister are so determined to be here in my absence while I'm in the hospital, but that hard drive will be baked in the oven to destroy the data, then discarded in an undisclosed dumpster before I let that happen. They may think of me as the unwanted, unloved, pervert and evil bastard of the family, but I care about the effect it'd have on them despite that.
.......
I woke up this morning at 7:05AM and couldn't tell if it was morning or evening. Shortly after I started working on my 2009 financial spreadsheet. Things are going to be tough the first couple of months financially until I get the Disability check thing figured out, but I have one savior; while I'm in the hospital for several weeks, Medicare will be buying my food and drugs. If I time it right and pick up my prescriptions just before I go in for the heart operation on the 25th, I could pick up a month in unused pills towards the security of not worrying if GB is going to suddenly cut me off, or social security.
Anyway I stayed awake til just past 11AM and got really drowsey, so I had to go back to bed. I don't know if it's physical effects from Depression, or my heart. Either way I've unwillingly gone back to sleeping 6 hours and being awake 6, which means a lot of times I don't know what day it is because humans have a tendency to consider the last time they were awake as "yesterday" which doesn't work in my case.
I've got to remember to set the clock radio for the doctor's appointment about my arm, and remember to ask for the x-ray to take with me to the GB exam.
I'm back to writing complex math formulas in spreadsheet cells, and it makes me miss the "good ole days" when I did it for a living, and making some good money from small businesses and friends. What makes me feel even better is that I'm doing them in my head instead of on paper.
...in some ways I've still "got it" anyway.
Monday the 29th
I went over my medicare/medicaid paperwork and still can't make heads nor tails of it. I've begun to suspect that companies that aren't officially with either one are sending me junk mail, hoping I'll use their card, and I'll have to suddenly pay a bunch of fees I wasn't aware of.
I have to see Dr. Foot/arm at 1:20 then do a bunch of other errands, I'll also have to deposit Char's check so it'll clear before the check to the electric company get's cashed. My whole life I've never bounced a check, I won't start now.
Dr. Foot/Arm says my arm is completely healed.
That encouraged a smile out of me.
Then he told me that GB has been on his office to sign a statement saying that I wouldn't survive the knee operation after my heart operation, and asked him to say there was no point in doing the knee because of it, and to declare me "MMI" which is maximum medical improvement...
...Mind you my leg still looks like a clock that reads 7 O'clock/
She sent me an e-mail this morning informing me that since I'm still considered an employee of "the pizza shop" that they have programs that might be able to assist me... I almost fell for it, until she added that I was to contact her immediately if I even try to call them... which sounds like yet another plot to dump me from their payroll. These are the same people that forced me to put in 15/5 applications a week in order to continue getting my checks-BECAUSE THEY IMPLIED I WASN'T AN EMPLOYEE!!! and I was instructed more than once to say "no" when asked if I were currently employed on my applications.
Time to talk to my lawyer again.
Anyway, Dr. Knee says I should make it through the heart surgery stuff just fine, and then to contact him about my knee afterward. He also might just recommend the artificial knee after all.
I feel really betrayed for trusting the woman at GB who keeps sending me warm friendly e-mails, only to find out she's trying to stab me in the back. Now all I have to do is figure out a way to calm down and lower my blood pressure.
I may come through this not trusting anyone ever again... especially after learning some time ago that Dr. Mind is being forced to turn over her notes to GB/Workman's comp. How can I possible get any positive results from seeing a shrink if it's obvious that what I'm telling her is being broadcast to a bunch of strangers, looking for any tiny excuse to dump me high and dry?
I don't goddamned believe it... on second thought I do. Wal-Mart just called to say my doctor faxxed them a prescription for my vitamins. It should be free under medicaid, so I asked if they were, he said no, because I'm no longer covered. I said I was covered under Medicare part D (at over $100 a month I damned well better be), he said that particular drug (vitamins??????) isn't covered under part D, and that I'd have to pay for it.
I told him to put them back on my profile, and I'd straighten it out the next time I came in with all my new cards. I have this sinking feeling I won't be able to get my January prescriptions. It's a toss up if I'm going to cry or put my fist through a wall, and I can feel my mental state crumbling, worrying what's going to happen next?
Tuesday the 30th
Finally got myself together enough to drive all the way out to Ohio State's traffic division this afternoon to pay the parking ticket, only to find that Dr. Mind was wrong; her appeal was on the computer, and I'd be notified sometime in a few weeks if I have to pay it and if I can buy a permit, so I can park.
A jackass named JOM who's a thorn in my side commenter at BlogCritics Magazine has resurfaced again as "Hope and Change", spewing ultra-rightwing, false, and misleading bullshit all over the place. Fortunately I haven't published an article in a while, so he's doing it on other's less deserving. At least I'm finding a healthy outlet for my rages.
I'm trying to make arrangements for getting help while I'm in the hospital with feeding Mischief and making sure she's not left alone. I'm never sure about T until she actually does it. She's never let me down, but I don't know until that day.
I must be jealous because she has a life and I don't...
..............
Well, now that the news is out, I can say that the first of our family has been hit by the economy. My nephew B is a gulf war vet, who came home to only be able to find work as a mechanic (despite big promises made and broken by the military about post service education and help; My younger brother-who is also a gulf veteran, (whom I'm very proud of) is a city bus driver in Seattle for the same reason-not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's not what was expected coming out of 20 years service.) My sister B called me wanting to know if I had any suggestions on how to help him, since I'm closest to where he lives and it hurt like hell to admit that I couldn't, as I'm usually ready and able until recently to help anyone in need.
There was talk of him coming here and taking care of me after my heart surgery next month, but I didn't think it'd work out as I'll require someone with EMT or better training, and I only have one bedroom. That and his ex-wife doing everything she can think of to make trouble for him. He was screwed over by a boss who did faulty work on a car, and B suffered the consequences for pointing it out to the customer after he returned to complained... now they've both lost their jobs.
I love every one of my family, despite their feelings towards me.
Five years ago I'd have mailed him a check for at least $500 so he can get home to Oregon, now I can't spare 10. This sucks so bad...
...I'm going to go to bed tonight and ask God a few questions... Well, I'm going to use what little faith I have left to pose a few inquiries.
Why give me the talent to create great art, only to take away my state of mind needed to create it?
Why give me the opportunities to accumulate some wealth and success only to have them vanish before my eyes. The ability to help out friends financially, to help out family that I care for without asking anything in return, to do great things financially in my community, only to watch it slip through my fingers.
Why give me the ability to create a great body, that opened doors on the west coast for wonderful opportunities, only to see it disolve away before anyone could see it?
Why take what peace of mind I have away from me?
Why give me so many close friends that I cared about, partied with and cared for, only to see them all be forced to move away?
I used to be able to feel god's love. I remember my righteous anger at people who said I should fear god instead of love him... now it's gone.
How can I keep living, if I'm losing the fear of death?
I'm losing my sanity; sometimes I can feel it, and yet there's the old Jet inside of me compartmentalized in some safe place where I can pull him out when I write an article, or have a political fight with someone on BC... but why can't I get him to stay?
It's like the nightmare I used to have where my old self from 1988 comes forward in time and sees me now with my heart conditions, my depression and my loss of confidence and decides he doesn't want to see that future for himself, so he puts a gun in his mouth, and I wake up screaming.
I used to be able to ride a 10-speed 10 miles a day to and from work without breaking a sweat winter, spring, summer or fall... Now I can't walk to my car without gasping for breath.
I've relied on my faith in God to get me through the tough times, making it a point to thank him for the good times and the strength to endure the bad times.
...why?
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