Out of hospital

I'm officially at a motel for 10 days. The hospital has released me based on my refusal to commence radiation and chemotherapy immediately, which they claim is "refusing treatment". Funny thing is I do believe, people with normal medical insurance get to make those choices. So why wouldn't I?

At present I am horribly uncomfortable, the bronchitis is coming back since I got off the antibiotics too soon. Dr. Fratkin of hospice care at St Joes said (only 2 days ago) that he would continue to work with me but when I called yesterday to ask if the antibiotics could be continued, he said I wil have to go to the Emergency Room or make an appointment at the local clinic for further treatment.

I don't know what's up with this corporation hospital but I do know that they released me without any true concern for my well being.  Clear where their concern is at, its on something other than my Heath status. I can't drive, I can barely walk. I need daily care. I had to have my son come to get me. I can't even make a meal to eat.

 The lymphedema and bronchitis needs to be taken care of before slamming my body with anything else. Why is that not obvious?

There is one certified lymphedema doctor in Eureka, she's on vacation until the 7th. Julian's calling to make the appointment. The lymphedema is worse than its ever been, extremely uncomfortable. There is no money for out of the area trips, I have to wait until she gets back. I have no idea whether Medi-cal will pay for lymphedema treatment. I've heard that its minimal treatment with Medi-cal insurance,  or maybe none at all. I'm praying I can get that treatment. The lymph swelling is so bad it's affecting everything, my back is looking like scoliosis and I can barely get around because of the weight on the side, pulling. I'm miserable.

The bronchitis is coming back, congestion, coughing up stuff. I feel so sick. Dear God, please help me.

Pathology Reports

I was told that I don't need to see or review my pathology reports in order to make a decision regarding an aggressive course of treatment. (Radiation & Chemotherapy) In fact, I was ridiculed at some length by social worker Jeanette, and told that it was an unusual request, "since most patients simply trust their Doctor". I was asked in an antagonistic voice whether I thought that "we're just going to treat you for cancer you don't have"?  I was initially told that if I wanted to see my pathology reports, I could go down to the basement records dept and get them myself. (Ok, I will) This woman was more than a little pissed at the mere idea that I would question them.  But, the n
ext day a manila envelope was shoved under my Evergreen room door, inside were pathology reports. I think. Since there was no cover letter saying "here are your pathology reports" nor an indication of how they arrived. Two of the reports says I am a "post mastectomy" patient. Not accurate. I have not had a mastectomy.

The social worker at The Evergreen, Jeanette, was clearly surprised and then outraged that I would request to review and get copies of my pathology reports. She expressed her outrage with increasing contempt and disrespect, literally shouting at me in the family room area "I need to know what your plan is !!" 3 times in a row, followed with "I can call the security guards and have you thrown out of here right now, if you don't want to tell me what your plan is, right now!!!" (Stamping her foot and pounding her fist for emphasis)  I  was having some sort of panic attack by that point so I had to sit down and was gasping for air, scary. But at that point I realized that the shortness of breath I had been experiencing was from an anxiety attack not because the cancer was causing my lungs to fill with fluid as I was told. The shortness of breath stopped within minutes of using a calming breath technique. Which is a good thing to know since otherwise I might've had a heart attack right there. Wow. I finally managed to get out inbetween gasping for air that my plan is, as I already told them, to review my pathology reports before making a decision, to which Jeanette responded by yelling " and you got the reports this morning.. !! Her last words to me as I left the room was shouting " ya, well, all I know is, you BETTER Be in radiation or chemotherapy BY Friday, OR, you're OUT OF HERE!"! Delivered in a nasty tone as if she were a bouncer in a bar or a warden in a prison.

Man these people are serious about rounding up their radiation/ chemotherapy patients. ( Maybe they'll get the stun guns and sneakers out next ? One can only wonder...!

12-26-12: Wednesday : I spent Christmas day with my son and his girlfriend and stayed overnight.. ..got a voice message  from Dr. Fratkin at St. Joseph this morning at 10:30 am. saying that the lock to my room at the Evergreen has been changed and my personal things were "secured for me" to pick up . No notice... Big surprise. Seems a bit of Kami-Kazi action going on here. I wonder why. I called St. Joe's medical records department this morning and was told my medical records will be ready to pick up in a few days, after they are signed off by the doctor.

I just signed a Hipaa release ( a few days ago) to allow the North Coast Journal to review all my hospital records at St. Joseph's. Maybe that's what's causing all the angst and snappy decisions. I wonder what it is they don't want found in my records? Must be interesting .., all this strange paranoid reaction... Locking me out of my room with no notice, strongly discouraging and then refusing to provide pathology reports, verbal attack & intimidation, general nastiness and a distinct lack of respect or compassion.

St. Joseph's Hospital

I ended up at the ER on 12-5-12 due to a severe bronchial infection. My roommate had it for a month before I finally caught it so I guess my immune system did the best it could to fight it off. But it got so bad I was having trouble breathing and had to go to the hospital. They gave me some antibiotics and sent me home. Two nights later I was back in, this time by ambulance. My left breast ruptured and my saline implant actually fell/ slipped out, which was really weird and frightening. I have no idea why that happened. But there is now an open wound where the implant came out, I don't know if it will heal as it is, Dr. Mahoney said it probably won't heal by itself, and she advises that getting radiation for 4-6 weeks will help it to heal. She also says that Radiation treatment will reduce the lymphedema and decrease my back pain. I find nothing online to support that theory, in fact I find
lots of evidence to the contrary;  radiation treatment inhibits wound healing and aggravates lymphedema.

My primary overall impression of St. Joseph's is not good. I've had zero wound care,they didn't even clean the wound, and the hospital bed was so bad that after only 3 days I
now have the beginnings of a bed sore on my tailbone. They have these weird inflatable beds that are supposed to prevent that, but in reality none of the nurses knew how to work the bed and I ended up with my tailbone sitting on the metal frame.

Other than that; death, death, more death. I've been told I'm going to die over and over and over. That place reeks of death. At the end of 3 days,  they were about to release me onto the street (with a referral to a night shelter) with an open wound that had not been cleaned and severe bronchitis. But since I could'nt return to my room rental due to my roommates severe (contagious)  bacterial bronchitis and, I was so sick I couldn't stand up by myself, so they decided to allow me to stay at The Evergreen Lodge, it's in the St. Joseph's compound. Dr Mahoney arranged for me to stay there "while being treated." The next day, at the Evergreen Lodge, Dr Magoney and Jeanette ( they said they work  together) I was told by these two women that if I would agree to radiation therapy "it would be a good excuse to stay at the Evergreen for 3 weeks and therefore " have a roof over my head." Lovely exploitation of the poor, it never stops. I didn't agree, and I was too sick to say much.

Horrified. Depressed. Discouraged. That's how "modern" medicine makes me feel. In one weeks time I was told over and over and over that this illness will kill me, and I can only hope to die comfortably in no pain. ( But they havent staged me) Which by the way is incredibly difficult to believe since I was in St. Joes then the lodge for an entire week in miserable pain until they finally sent the palliative care doctor over (dr. Fratkin) to prescribe some painkillers and a program of pain control. For an entire week I was allowed to suffer and told that going into immediate radiation treatments would  solve all my physical problems including the constant pain. Dr Mahoney says the open wound will probably not heal, however, it looks to me like its already healing.

What's this hospital up to? It's clear to me that they tried to exploit my position by offering " a roof over my head" in exchange for my agreement to get treated with Radiation and chemotherapy. Well that certainly is an expensive roof for Medi-cal to pay for. Wonder what other deals they have over there today? Wonder also how many homeless and or disconnected people have been exploited like this, told they don't need to see their records, intimidated into a "treatment plan", yelled at and threatened. Makes a person wonder. 

Alex Grey & The Law Of One

"One of the primal distortions of the Law of One is that of healing. Healing occurs when a mind/body/spirit complex realizes, deep within itself, the Law of One; that is, that there is no disharmony, no imperfection; that all is complete and whole and perfect. Thus, the intelligent infinity within this mind/body/spirit complex re-forms the illusion of body, mind, or spirit to a form congruent with the Law of One. The healer acts as energizer or catalyst for this completely individual process."

it's a tough job. I'm still in the first frame. 

I worked as a massage therapist in the 90's.  Before attending the classes I thought, I will never ever be able to be in the same room with a naked man I don't know under a sheet, no, I could not picture that. But, one day the connections and understandings kicked in and it became something I excelled at, and really enjoyed. 

I learned a lot from my clients. One was a vietnam vet who had suffered jungle rot to his feet. A very quiet man and the whole time he was getting his massage he had the best little smile on his face, as if he was thinking, I've been through living hell, but here I am, ha. 

I learned a lot about the power of touch and intention. And I learned that we all want the same basic things; comfort, acceptance, connection, a way to heal.   

Rick Simpson Cannabis Oil: 3 weeks

I've been using the cannabis oil for 3 weeks, and am halfway through my third gram-size vial. Increasing the dose causes me to want to rest or sleep a lot, it's a nice feeling considering I do need the rest, but it's difficult to get things done feeling sleepy. I don't think I'll be able to increase the dose much  more, but maybe I'll build a tolerance and it will be possible. I have to be able to work 3-4 hours per day, plus grocery shop, cook, clean, etc.  lately it takes more willpower to get through each day. I'm tired and the back strain made things a lot more difficult in recent weeks. 

I've been having sporadic intense itching in the breast area and substantial pain every once in a while...last night was pain or itch all night. But the redness is reduced and visually things look better.

My appetite is not that good, more for emotional than physical reasons. My weight is at 120 lbs. 

 I'll continue to use the "Rick Simpson oil', and increase the dose as I can. 

Rented a room and here I am. Still using the cannabis oil, one gram per week. It's very relaxing;  too early to tell what effect it's having on the cancer. But, most of my aches and strains from moving have resolved, except for the lower back which at least hurts a lot less, and I'm sleeping very well.

The full protocol with the cannabis oil requires dedicated time and space. Alkaline diet, juicing, therapeutic baths, lots of other stuff. I'm not in a space where I can do that yet, and over the last few months the cancer seems to be worsening quickly. It's spreading up my left chest and shoulder in an alarming way, but not to the other breast. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to punt with no real healthcare and not following a complete protocol. Maybe I'll find out.

The holidays are approaching and with them a recording in my heart starts playing scenes from the last months of my husband's life. I don't reach for them, they just arrive on schedule, every year. I try to replace those memories with other happy memories but it has not completely worked yet. I should just plan on crying every year from November through January. But that doesn't make for a cheerful holiday demeanor so stuffing it appears to be in order.  Which usually calls for some chocolate, cookies, and maybe even some ice cream. Ok stuffing it could kill me. I'm pretty sure that's what happened last year when things suddenly worsened and my arm swelled, right after Christmas.  It didn't help that I was staying at my lunatic uncle's house in Sacramento, who was busy bouncing off the walls..when I'm  upset I crave sweets. comfort food. a really bad idea these days, or I don't eat at all, and bad energy tends to make me nauseous.  I better go check my self-discipline account and see if there's anything left in there. 

Rented a room and here I am. Still using the cannabis oil, one gram per week. It's very relaxing, but too early to tell whether it's stopping the cancer. 

Got The Cannabis Oil

Cannabis Cures Cancer: Look At Me, I'm Cancer Free!

This is my first day of using the Cannabis oil. It's a thick resin that's removed from the bottle with a toothpick. The starting dose is a tiny amount, a smidgeon on the end of the toothpick. I took the first dose about 30 minutes ago and noticed it has an almost immediate muscular relaxation effect on the entire body, and yes, pain is lessened. yeigh. Looks like I'll get some sleep tonight. 

The moving process completely thrashed my back. I can't lift much with the swollen arm so I used my right arm to lift which produced a strain to the right side of my back. Then I pulled a muscle in the left leg so I was hobbling around using the right arm to take weight off the injured left leg, which resulted in more strain to the right side. I didn't have a cane so I used a mop as a cane, should've got a picture of that. By time we got done I could barely move in any direction. I'm positive my spine is completely out of alignment. I lost some weight, which is not good. The cancer responded to all the stress, late nights, and increased work by accelerating rabidly. It's looking pretty scary. 

I haven't found a new place yet. It doesn't seem like people are real excited to rent to a 56 year old woman with breast cancer. I wonder why. ha. I could keep that to myself but it's such a part of my life now that it seems pointless and tiresome to hide it. And since my arm is noticeably swollen, I'd have to lie about that. I hate lying. It's too distracting. Renting a room has issues as well. When a room is rented in someone else's home, it's like being immersed in someone else's life. That can also be very distracting. I like things at home to be simple, functional, comfortable. Things like blaring tv's and bad housekeeping habits make me nervous. (There are not that many people I want to share a bathroom with, either.)  The whole roommate thing just doesn't work at this age. 

Nevertheless, I have to make a decision in the next few weeks. A place to complete the healing process or a place to complete the dying process. My household things are all in storage, so at this point I could go in either direction. My first choice is to heal, but life being what it is, it's hard to predict how things will change from here. 

2nd day Update 11/02/2012 : I took 3 doses of the oil yesterday and today. In just 24 hours, the difference in my level of pain has gone from 7-9 to about 4-5.  (scale of 1-10) I had no pain in my lymphedema arm today at all, I can walk a little easier, and I feel calmer. I don't feel much of an intoxicated effect, far less than a pain killer or a glass of wine in fact.

3rd day Update 11/03/2012 : Felt very relaxed all day, sleepy, content to be still. My arm is a little less swollen, a lot more comfortable, and I haven't had pain all day, except for the lower back which is still pretty thrashed.

I learned a new word today. "Insha'Allah" which means, by the Grace of God, or God willing. 

My 56th Birthday !!!

As of today, all my household stuff will be in storage, and I will be at The Townhouse Motel, which allows Lucy, has great security, and clean rooms, at the best price.  Cost per week, $364.00. Hoping to find a place by the first. Praying actually. All my Etsy shop stuff goes with me, wifi, so I'll continue to run the shop. I just did inventory & reorganized so that will help.  

Dr Burzynski movie: This Doctor has Cured even Brain Cancer

Dr Burzynski movie (Full Version) .flv With Extra Burzynski Links

Cured: A Cannabis Story - you have to see this

Cured: A Cannabis Story (A film by David Triplett) 
Marijuana: A Chronic History  

Run From The Cure

Run From The Cure

I wish I had known about hemp oil for Brad. I'm in the middle of redesigning my protocol, and am going to start using hemp oil as soon as I get a legal prescription and find the best source to buy it from.  I'm also adding Essiac tea, and MSM.  Gentle Qigong daily, and a few other things. (I'll add them to this page later)

I'm not using the rife machine specifically for cancer treatment anymore. I think it's tricky to "guess" which frequencies to use, and if the wrong one is used, it tends to aggravate the cancer or cause it to worsen. Not a good option for a person who's self-treating, too much guess work and too much specific knowledge required. I am impressed with how well it kills parasites though, and  I think it's great for other uses as well. But it's complicated to use for cancer treatment. I don't recommend it.

I'm starting to have sporadic pain now, mostly at night unfortunately. It's bad enough to keep me awake. I usually get up and smoke some medicinal organic humboldt herb, and put an ice pack on. That usually works. It's true that marijuana is a good painkiller. I'll be glad to use the extract instead.

I should've went to church today so I could pray (ha ha just kidding) that the next rental has an actual useable bathtub. I use the tub for therapeutic baths, makes a major difference. (Dear Lord, let me have a damn bathtub, you can keep the Mercedes Benz !! )

Two or three years ago,  I asked my chinese medicine doctor, Well, what do you think? Do you think I'm going to live? His answer was, Well, you haven't made up your mind yet. I thought about that for a long time and I knew he was right. After Brad died, I stopped embracing life, stopped making plans for a future, stopped everything except for what I had to do to survive. If I had a passion it was to do whatever I could to ensure the crooks who stole from us would have a better chance of getting caught. The research I did was tiring but it was also engaging.. It was like putting together a big puzzle about all these things I didn't know about my husband's life. It was also interesting to get an inside look on the mortgage fraud party going on in America.  But, it didn't make me want to live.

I used to make a joke, saying, "These fools sure didn't do their research well. They just really pissed off a Christensen, how stupid is that? Any member of this clan WILL live just to hunt you down." I am after all my father's daughter. He was never intimidated. He was in fact, the epitome of a teamster union truck driver from the 70's. and all that implies.. Larger than life. He taught his children to stand up, to be the difference.

 I understood that aspect of myself in connection to my father much more distinctly after a psychotherapist I knew counseled me briefly. He didn't charge me an hourly rate, but gave me counsel from his heart, which of course is the best and most direct kind. (Thanks Paul. I'll always remember you. You helped me open that door.)

But I'm a lot smaller than my Dad was, and sometimes I make people mad. So I've decided that when this cancer business is primarily over I'm going to get serious about learning better self-defense, maybe even some offense.

California Civil Code Section 789.3

The water service was unexpectedly turned off today, so I called the City of Eureka water service to have it turned back on. The bill is not overdue since I paid it recently through my daughter who had the service in her name while we lived here.. However, the city water clerk informed me that the land lord had already contacted her "regarding this situation", and had instructed her NOT to allow me to have the water turned back on. This would appear to be in direct violation of California Civil Code Section 789.3

The real reason this Land Lord is harassing me is because I insisted she repair the electrical failures and house heater, and, because she does not approve of the color of my son's skin. There, I said it. She is out of her mind incensed over the dark-skinned son factor. I'm starting to wonder if I'll wake up to burning crosses on the front lawn next. There are some things in this life that have to be seen to be believed. Yes, there are still pale-skinned people in America who will have a complete meltdown at the thought of a dark-skinned person anywhere in their environment. They claim they have justifiable reasons for their hatred and paranoia. It's all horseshit of course. They just like to swing their weight around and be "above" someone. Unfortunately those who belong to 'the club of constant horseshit', are also infatuated with creating drama. That's why I wonder what to expect next. It's been made very clear to me by the land lord herself that her intent is to punish or hurt me for having the audacity to stand up to her. According to her, I have no rights.

is this where things are headed for those with no power .. No rights?

A while back I became fascinated by the history of Nazi Germany. How did non-Jewish people look the other way while their neighbors were deprived of all human dignity?? Something very similar is taking place in America today. We look the other way, and don't want to be associated with the growing unwashed underclass. What happens to them, will of course not happen, to us, and anyway, they deserve it, after all, isn't that what we believe?

My teamster union Dad used to say " Might equals Right".  Then he'd laugh.  I wish my father were here today, but I've wished that 500 times since Brad died. If my father had been alive, none of this would ever have happened. He would've came to Los Angeles immediately and intervened for Brad and I, not politely. Having very little family is a huge detriment. Now I am ill, and people mostly look right through me.  It doesn't matter what happens to me, and common courtesy is not a requirement either.

Sometimes people ask me if I'm afraid to die, and I think, are you kidding me? What strikes fear in me is the possibility that reincarnation could be true. No I'm not afraid to die, and I'm also not planning on coming back and you can bet on that.

Cancer is in essence the big wake up call. It's saying: you are carrying too much pain and too much grief, it's stored in every cell of your body. You have to release the false self or just plain die, you have to choose one type of death or the other. The false self has to go, and with it, all the stored grief.

In honor of releasing my false self, the one I depended on to stay safe or accepted, I choose to no longer  "keep my mouth shut" ..an advice I've heard repeatedly since childhood. I'm not good at it anyway.

3 am or so:  I'm telling myself, be calm, don't let this get to you, but here I am wide awake and sick to my stomach. I rarely get a virus or other passing illnesses so it's rare that I'm throwing up. But tonight, the first night in my life to be in a house with no running water, I'm throwing up, and thinking oh crap, I'll have to use the premium quality water that's delivered in 3 gallon jugs to flush the damn toilet. What a life. 

I feel under attack, and overwhelmed with the necessity of proving why I don't "deserve" to be thrown out into the street. Innocence until guilt is proven is not automatic with eviction, looks to me like the reverse is true. Simply put, this land lord was not willing to rent to me without my daughter because she knew she would no longer get away with the "my husband will fix it when he gets back" routine. On top of that, I believe she is most likely a racist, which does help to explain her out of control, emotional  behavior. What land lord in their right legal mind would deliberately ensure that a tenant could not get water service when it is clearly an illegal act they are then liable for? Is there an actual reason she couldn't allow me more than 30 days to find a suitable new rental? Well what the heck could that be? 

This property has been taken care of and her rent has been paid on time. I think her ONLY reason is that I stood up to her by insisting she make the repairs, and by telling her that my grown children's family disputes are not her business, and in addition, that she may not walk into the house "anytime she feels like it." She was pissed, pure and simple. The fact that she instructed the city water clerk to deny me service when I tried to transfer it into my name illustrates her intentions loud and clear.

Maybe I'm beginning to understand why there are so many people living in the woods in makeshift shelters. Could it be that they're not willing to spend their last low-hourly-wage dime on renting some slum lords shanty rental facility for a period of 30 days at a time, which might or might not be renewed for another 30 days, on the first of each month??  Holy shit. what a life. Like living in a shanty motel by the railroad tracks. You might be there next month, if you don't piss off the land lord. You might not be, if you do. That's some gun to live under.

There should be no such thing as a "month-to-month" rental, unless it is a vacation house or a motel. Who can live a normal life like that? Ridiculous. And obvious in whose hands it places more power.
There are very few leases offered for rentals in Humboldt County based on what I've seen advertised.. month to month on mostly substandard dwellings. I can understand why they don't want a lease; a lease provides a measure of security and enforces  tenants rights, and that's not desirable to the Land Lords, who want to be able to give you the boot at any time for any reason;  they want the tenant to be under constant duress not to do anything that might piss them off. It's called, the upper hand.

Wednesday:  Finally got the water transferred into my name. The water department says they "have 24 hrs to turn it on" so that's tomorrow, which will be two full days without water service. I told the clerk that if she wants to do the land lord a favor,  they could turn it on today and save her 100.00 for the second day.  (I'm learning about frame of reference, they care about the land lord)  Yesterday the clerk had been adamantly snotty about supporting the wishes of the land lord; that changed after an attorney from the local legal aid called her to advise. After the attorney phone call, I was allowed service. Which proves once again, no attorney, no rights.

I wonder, what it would be like, to live somewhere in which it was normal for the majority of people to voluntarily respect and upheld the community and governmental laws.  (?)  That's not something I've seen in my lifetime so far. What I've seen is that lying, cheating and constant theft is the norm. along with a few other  bad-vibe things, like promiscuity, infidelity, perversion and exploitation. Ya. America is a lot of fun. In great shape.

I'm exhausted. Stress causes acidosis, which causes my left arm to swell dangerously. The swelling and density of the lymph fluid causes fatigue because the lymph fluid has to be pumped through the heart. This water debacle took up two days of my precious time.

I'm not in a very good mood so I'll just go ahead and express here that when the poor, working class and disenfranchised citizens of America rise up and take to the streets burning everything in their path, I'll be at home in front of the TV with some organic popcorn, laughing. (Failing that, I'll be in front of a campfire roasting marshmallows, laughing.)  Either way, there will be a smile on my face. The elites have run this country into the ground. Change is inevitable.

The growing American underclasses need to 'Just Say No' to all those crappy mind-altering prescription drugs they are constantly provided (for free, step right up, it will make you feel better) and really think, think about what the phrase "We The People" actually means, in reality, in our everyday world.

This is OUR country.  This is OUR land. 

Qigong For Cleansing

I've been learning this Qigong routine and am starting to really like it. The movements are very smooth and gentle, and the sequence is not hard to learn.  It can be completed in 10 minutes or less which is ideal if your energy level is low or your pressed for time.

If you watch the Enya Adiemus video on YouTube ..it  shows energy trailing her movements. I think it's a good visual example of how energy moves in Qigong also. 

Being Evicted

..which is a little different than "Being Peace" ha ha. The owner of this house says I broke our rental agreement by allowing my 34 yr old son to visit "for more than one week in a four month period." This was the stated stipulation on the magical 2nd rental agreement that was attached to the summons. Who the heck would agree to that? I sure didn't, and that's why my signature isn't on it.

My son Julian is a master trainer at a local gym, here he is at the park.

and at the beach..

gee, I wonder what it is about him that she doesn't like? Hmm..

Well, things had already gone to hell in a hand basket via her refusal to fix the heater and electrical outlets, and I wasn't happy when I discovered that she had neglected to inform me that these are asbestos walls with lead paint in here, either. (I found out when the cable guy told me) What a winning combination, asbestos and electrical failures. Yikes. I hope to god I can get out of here before this house blows and the neighborhood becomes a hazmat zone.

Now a rabid and probably armed process server has been terrorizing the house for the last three days.  He left a summons tacked to the front door jam Thursday morning, after a lengthy round of shouting and banging. ( I don't open the door to strangers who are acting out of control) Each day these visits get progressively louder and more threatening.

On his Saturday morning visit, he let himself into the house and walked into the living room, shouting "hello, hello, anyone in here'? in between entering the back yard to go into the garage and circle the house, shouting the whole way. His behavior was so loud and aggressive that one of my neighbors came outside and stood on his lawn watching, with a concerned look on his face.  I had just gotten out of the shower and locked my bedroom door when I heard this man in the living room walking across the floor shouting. He came into the house three times while I stood behind that locked door wondering what to do. I didn't call the police after he left and probably should have. But who would care that this process server stormed into my house?  

Ya, sure it's illegal, but he's a process server working for a Land Lord, while I on the other hand, am the renter whose giving the Land Lord a problem.  I'm fairly certain a complaint re home invasion would be completely disregarded. I don't have those rights, apparently because it's not really my home. 

Drama tires me out. I'll have to file a response to the landlords eviction notice by Tuesday.  Thank God it's Humboldt County, the line at the courthouse won't be long. I'm not looking forward to it, but I've never been to the Humboldt county courthouse so maybe it'll be interesting. 

Maybe someday we will only have two Socioeconomic groups, composed of those who own land and those who do not. To be "a renter" in America is to belong to a subclass of people who are generally thought of as underachievers and potential troublemakers. In America, the  term "renter" is closely related to the terms "riffraff " and "squatter".

The Land Lords don't mind taking our hourly-wage money to pay for their property and retirement investments, but they want to make sure we know our place, on a strata somewhere beneath them.  As a matter of fact, many land lords do not feel that their "tenants" (renters/rifraff/current squatters) deserve to enjoy the same quality of life that they themselves enjoy. For example, my bathtub.Think that Mrs. Land Lord has a bathtub like this at HER house?

This tub is unusable for therapeutic baths. Between the peeling paint and the rust, a therapeutic soak is not even remotely possible. There's a horrible shower contraption that circles it, the faucet leaks constantly, and the cold water has to be turned on & off by reaching between the tub and wall to turn the spigot there. We wear shower flip flops when we take a shower, like we're in jail. Awful.

My fourth visit from Mr. Banger-shouter came a few minutes ago.  His volume was substantially reduced today and didn't last as long so that was nice. I got his truck license plate on video this time.

Monday 24th: I went over to the Northern California legal aid to pick up a response packet. They have one attorney on staff there, and she is on vacation. So I will have to file this response myself in the meantime. I don't believe that my rights will be upheld in this situation, but I'll go through the process anyway and figure it will be an educational experience. I believe this is a case of wrongful eviction but I also think that land lords are well supported by the judicial system, and I know that just because the law states such & such, doesn't necessarily mean anything. Unless you have an attorney to enforce your legal rights, might as well not bother quoting the law.

 I've never been evicted and I have to say, it's an unpleasant state of affairs.  Well, I guess it can be added to the three identities, multiple social security numbers, bankruptcy's, credit cards, and mortgages that are on my credit report. what the heck. I've never been arrested for anything, but make no mistake, I might as well be a criminal.

Being poor these days is sort of the same thing, not like a white collar criminal, mind you; they're above the rest of us in their own club, with their own rules and laws, and land. Poor and landless is unacceptable and deserving of contempt, automatically a criminal of some type. The days are gone in which a person could be poor with dignity. You are your financial assets. Which seems weirdly fitting, since corporations are now people.

Now I understand why all these fools in the world are so ruthless they'd do anything to add to their cash pile. Cash is king in this world, without it, no rights of any kind are upheld. What a shame. We are a land of no honor. LandLords, and the Landless; the connected, and the disconnected. No one really cares, and it's going to get worse.

I read lots of the conspiracy theories online and many people think that a man-made virus will be released soon in order to reduce the population. (fema coffins etc) My personal theory is that the very poor will go first. No one will care about them dropping dead, in fact it would make a lot of people more comfortable. Next, medically indigent seniors, the meth-addicted, and the disabled on government programs. Don't believe you'll ever see me lining up for a government surplus box, no thanks.

If I was a drug addict or mentally ill, or had small children, I would automatically qualify for free monthly income from the government and many other services. But a woman with breast cancer automatically qualifies for nothing. Except the free government slice-n-dice, slash, radiate and burn program. All those pink ribbons make me feel disgusted when I see them. What an insult. All that pablum horseshit about how they're supporting women with breast cancer. what a crock.

I'll be ok, because my son is here to help me move. With one good arm to use and a limited supply of energy (my body is already working hard) I couldn't even get my stuff moved into storage without help. Even though I'm over 50 now, I've always been strong and self-sufficient, so this state of affairs is a much different experience. I can't say I'm warming up to it.

My latest psychic reading (a lady on Etsy, she's great) says that I'm at the tail end of this sojourn through hell, and that my finances will dramatically change soon, in such a way as to completely alter my entire physical world. Hopefully that might mean my crook in-laws will get busted soon and Brad's retirement account will fall out with my name on it, along with a few houses and the yahoo stock. One can hope, don't need a license for that. Hey miracles happen every day.

If that be the case, may I never forget what it was like to be on the bottom rung. And may I totally resist the urge to take a nice photo with my middle finger extended and send it to the entire maternal side of my extended family and a few others. heh heh.

Some people wonder if I'm embarrassed to put all this personal information online, or they feel I should be. But that's one of the perks about having a potentially lethal illness, no, I don't care if I embarrass myself or look foolish. All those things pass away. It's sort of freeing when you realize that.

Kombucha Tea

My Kombucha Tea Scoby died last month after I poured flax oil from the frig into the continuous brew jar, thinking it was the tea mixture I had made earlier, oops. I finally got the fresh scoby and started a new batch, now I have Kombucha tea every day again. This homemade tea is one of the natural medicinals I wouldn't want to go without. It saves me a lot of money since it's loaded with live probiotics and digestive enzymes. It also has an interesting medicinal history. 

Visit from a friend: I've known this man for 40 years. 

My energy level is improving now that I'm drinking the Kombucha tea again. As for packing to get ready to move, I've cleaned out, organized and packed the garage, and then had to rest for about two weeks. My arm swelled up and had to be elevated full time, and I managed to get a few new items listed on my online Etsy shop. 

Rental Shopping

I'm now "in the process" of looking for a new rental. Turns out this cute house I'm living in has asbestos insulation and electrical problems. The electrical outlets in the living room stopped working shortly after we moved in 7 months ago, and the electric fireplace quit next, the only source of heat in the house. So we used electric room heaters and an extension cord from the bedroom to the desk area. The owner kept assuring us her husband would make repairs when he got off the boat, he's a commercial fisherman. 

I've been looking at craigslist ads & photos of rentals which is enough to cause real depression. Is there a landlord hall of shame online? well, there should be. It's enough to cause nightmares, looking at photo after photo of barren, cheaply remodeled, dark, old cast off everything, shabby, tacky, dirty, cramped, little rentals with ads that say "you may apply".  All offered through property management corporations of course. After looking at the photos I feel like throwing up. 

I went online recently to request my free yearly credit report and discovered that my previous Identity Theft dilemma has not gone away.  I can't verify the information on my report via the identity confirmation questions asked: what is the amount of the mortgage I got in June of 2000? (I've never had a mortgage) What credit cards, people I lived with, counties I lived in, etc ... so I had to copy documents that prove who I am and send the request by mail. I have to do this every time I request a copy of my credit report. Then when I finally get the report in the mail, I always wonder why I bothered. It's just upsetting and there's nothing I can do about it. 

 So much for filing a complaint with the FTC for all the good that did.  And so much for not looking like a career criminal on my credit report.

Sunday, Sept 16th; The rental outlook isn't getting much better. Choices. let's see.  Small and run down. Large and run down. Small, sterile and no privacy. Coin-op laundry facilities, horrors.. buying rolls of quarters to do laundry makes me feel insane. There should be a law against coin-op laundry facilities in rental units.  I mean really, it's not bad enough that you have to pay a ridiculous amount to park yourself in someone's investment building, but having to count out quarters to wash? How long will it be before someone thinks of the shower as a pay per use feature for 'renters.' ?

Anyway. The few places that look like actual (affordable) homes have screening processes that president Obama might not pass much less a person with 3 social security numbers and multiple alias's.. That's me. Yep. That's what my credit report says. There's at least one mortgage and a bankruptcy in 2010 too, icing on the cake. The bankruptcy is connected to an address in Chico where I apparently have utilities in my name as well. (The word I'm thinking of at this moment is "screwed") Well well, I better go get my positive-thinking hat back on, or maybe in this case that would be the hoping-for-a-miracle hat heh heh. 

A bank employee once told me there's so much identity theft in the U.S. we won't be able to continue using our social security numbers for identification much longer. From what I've seen in my real estate research, I'd say the problem is unfixable. I'd say there isn't a county in California and very few elsewhere whose public records aren't massively corrupted with falsely filed or inaccurate information. 

There's also an odd pattern I stumbled across in the (California) counties District Attorney's offices, in their filed child support judgements. Can't recall what it was exactly that struck me as odd, something about the names and dates filed. I'd have to review my notes to recall what the pattern was. Not that it would make any difference because people in the U.S. don't care about corruption unless it affects them personally in a way that's immediate and clear. ( but if the popular media tells them to care about it, then they're interested for a few minutes.) In any case it's not my job, that DA office weirdness. I get my life threatened often enough over the real estate stuff.  My point is, false identities are a HUGE issue in our public records. Social security numbers and driver's licenses will soon be a thing of the past and hello Biometric security systems.

Pink Ribbon Propaganda

Pink Ribbon, Inc 

Think Before You Pink

Pink Ribbons and other Disinformation 

Welcome To Cancerland

Behind The Pink Curtain

Epiphanies

When facing your own mortality you are likely to have some surprisingly clear insights, if you can relax and release fear of the unknown, which is exactly right around the corner or so it seems. Lately I've thought about the fact that I've lived my life like a waitress in an all night diner. I'm 100 % positive I'll end up dropping dead right in front of the washer & dryer or at the kitchen sink. http://open.salon.com/blog/blinddream/2012/05/07/epiphany_haiku

Manzanita Ranch

When I was younger, I had a recurring dream I was traveling back to Manzanita Ranch. The road was very long and I wasn't sure what direction to go in to get there. I kept getting lost and there were no familiar landmarks. After a long, long time, I finally got there and walked down the hill towards the ranch house; that's where I would stay, in one of the rooms. There was a new structure on the property that looked like a fire look-out, and Brad wasn't with me.. it's been so long since I've had that dream that, although it was very detailed, I can only vaguely recall it now.

When someone told me in 2009 how much my husband's Yahoo shares were worth, my next thought was, I could buy Manzanita Ranch. That thought changed my world.

In fact, if I recovered Brad's Yahoo investments alone, I could completely refurbish the entire ranch and turn it back into a very special, fully functioning, self-sustaining healing retreat, which is what it's always been, in one form or another. So I decided to put more effort into my investigative research, because the thought of being able to own and manage this special ranch gave me a great hope...and a reason to consider living, even without Brad, who was my heart. Here's my Manzanita Ranch song.

Brad and I at the ranch in 1971
A popular album that summer was this one. 

Brad 1972

1999 Below

Our last Photo together, taken in 2005 right after we found out he had throat cancer.

Entertaining Angels

Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares."

I had a yard sale on the front lawn of  our apartment building in Los Angeles, before I left Southern California in 2008. On the morning of the first day, a man came by and stopped to talk. He was an ordinary looking man, not rich, not poor, nothing stood out about him. He said he was in charge of that entire area, that he knew everything that went on there, and that even when a prostitute died, he was the first one to know about it. I didn't know what to think of that, but he seemed rational and pleasant, and sincere. 

Before he left, he told me this story about a friend of his.. her husband had died, and his family, her in-laws, had embezzled everything he owned, leaving the woman in dire straits. She had to support her disabled brother by working two jobs, one as a maid in a large hotel. It took her years of hardship and endurance to recover her property, but eventually she did, and lo & behold, she was the owner of the fine hotel she worked as a maid at. In closing, he said "I'll tell you what I told her. Keep Going." 

I think of his advice often, when I'm so tired and overwhelmed I question whether I can go on. And I consider how perfect that advice was.. Not "hang on" which implies something to hang on to, but "Keep Going" which is more like what you'd tell a man in the desert who doesn't know there is a well over a few more sand hills if he can just keep going, one foot in front of the other. Perfect advice. 

I have a new lump on the left side just above the collarbone area, and it hurts a little on that side when I swallow. Doesn't seem good. I can't afford the things I need and I'm really tired of the struggle to get through each day, each week, each month. I'm alone most of the time. 

Some more Hope

I'm still pondering on what hope is and haven't come up with a concrete assessment. Obviously it's not tangible, so it's related to something other than physical reality. A feeling. Sometimes when I look at my flowers blooming in their little pots I feel a sense of something that might be called hope.

18 months ago, I went to see Madam Ruby; Chico Icon & Palm Reader extraordinaire. Madam Ruby is a Chico rite of passage whose words you don't forget unless you're a fool. (who has no hope) Before I moved back to Los Angeles to live with and then marry Brad I of course consulted Madam Ruby. At the end of that reading her advice was "don't trust anyone." (anyone in Los Angeles after I moved there) I thought she must have my palm mixed up with someone else's palm and at the time I sure didn't have a clue why she'd say that. Funny how that worked out.

Anyway, my last Madam Ruby consult was just as mysterious except that now, 12 years later, I'm following her pretty well. Sometimes when I'm fresh out of positive thinking tactics, divine inspiration, and supporting facts, I like to recall Madam Ruby stating calmly "you're going to live through this." She also said I would be doing some writing in the future and then she laughed, leaned forward and gave my hand a little squeeze and said "you got it girl" (I started my other strange but true blog a few months later.) Of course I did ask her whether I'd ever recover my stolen community property and she said "there'll be some money, but don't do it for that reason." She was very adamant about that. So I whined a little and said, well I'd love to do some writing but I'd prefer to do it somewhere other than a park bench, is it going to take very long? yep, a while, she said, get comfortable.  Crap. They say God's timing is perfect, but meanwhile back here on planet earth things were getting a little hazardous.

So now it's 18 hazardous months later. I've lost muscle mass and don't recognize my normally sturdy body. My left arm is swollen, my right arm is emaciated, and my breast is truly an interesting specimen. I need to make sure my drivers license no longer says "donor." seems like I thought that was a good idea some decade past. My friends, acquaintances, and even family are now divided into three camps: those that think I'm insane and don't want to be involved, those that know I'm not and don't want to be involved, and those that know I'm broke, and don't want to be involved.

I hope the brad blog was what I was supposed to write, seemed like the records threw themselves in front of me but it was a lot of information to organize. Don't know what good it might do but felt compelled to write it, and even though it's far from complete and contains more than a couple of references to my fervent desire to see certain people roast in hell and so forth, hey I'm rating it a "pretty good" job.  Hopefully, good enough. Parts of it were written in a laundromat using their free wifi. I have a pic of that laundromat as a memento. Another Chico icon: The Mat.

Hope. That's what Madam Ruby gave me.

"Every Cancer Can Be Cured"

Answers to Cancer - Dr. Leonard Coldwell

Dr. Caldwell says that the cure rate for people who treated their cancer with chemotherapy is about 2%, while the cure rate for people who did nothing (no treatment)  was 27%.  

Hope

I've been thinking about what hope is and watching Netflix videos about the holocaust for the past few weeks. The documentaries are well done, educational and interesting, but to show these in a classroom the instructor might have to provide counseling of some sort along with the films. The interviews with survivors and actual 1940's footage are priceless as a method of instantly conveying that this really happened, to real people, people just like us. But before continuing this education by documentary I'm going to have to figure out how hope fits in, rather than hopelessness, which is what I'm thinking of after watching these documentaries. here's my favorite Tracy song about hope, Let it Rain.

And here's the song that always makes me laugh, sing it real loud while you're doing the dishes and see if it doesn't make you smile:

Being Peace

Being Peace by Thich Nhat Hanh

Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow

because even today I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second

to be a bud on a spring branch,

to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,

learning to sing in my new nest,

to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,

to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,

in order to fear and to hope,

the rhythm of my heart is the birth and

death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing

on the surface of the river,

and I am the bird, which, when spring comes,

arrives in time to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily

in the clear water of a pond,

and I am also a grass-snake, who,

approaching in silence,

feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,

my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,

and I am the arms merchant,

selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl,

refugee on a small boat,

who throws herself into the ocean

after being raped by a sea pirate,

and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable

of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my hands,

and I am the man who has to pay his

"debt of blood" to my people,

dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring, so warm

it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life.

My pain is like a river of tears, so full

it fills up the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,

so I can hear all my cries and all my laughs at once,

so that I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,

so I can wake up,

and so the door of my heart can be left open,

the door of compassion.