Angry at being left alone to cope with the enormous fortune Alice left her, Kathy has to learn to deal with business, family, and a blackmailer who is certain he has her over a barrel. Dealing with the life she now leads she doesn’t realize until it’s too late how much Alice and her ‘lessons’ have influenced her and her reactions. ‘Accidentally’ killing her blackmailer leads to being a target by his brother with the apparent backing of the L.A.P.D. Being in their crosshairs she realizes she has to change her strategy as life seems to get away from her and the enormity of it all may come crashing down on her and her family.
In the beginning of the summer of 2000 I decided that my youngest son Andrew (AJ) should have a cat. Every kid that enjoys pets like he did should have the responsibility of an animal. He used to hunker down and talk to them on their own levels. They sensed his compassion and sensitivity and responded to him accordingly.
That summer he was visiting in our second home with my mother for a couple of weeks while I worked and Christopher (Chip), my older son, went on to play All Stars Baseball. So we had a full summer planned.
I don’t know why it came to me to give him a kitten when it did but I believe in fate. Andrew’s favorite color was black so I had in mind a black kitten and planned on going to the pound for it with him when he returned.
One day when we made the trip up to Atascadero for yet another game of the All Stars that Christopher was participating in only to find out when we got there that it had been cancelled, I decided to take us to the sporting goods store so that Chip and his friend, Joe could stock up on fishing hooks because they spent a lot of time fishing from the docks of Morro Bay where we lived when I was in town (we traveled a lot then).
The sporting goods store was in the same parking lot as Walmart and heavily congested so I dropped the boys off at the front of the store and went to park my extended van, built to seat sixteen, because it was impossible to park, and I didn’t want them to wait. Having found a spot I got out and started to walk towards the stores only to hear someone else who had parked nearby go, “Careful, don’t drop them.” I looked up to see a mom and some kids getting out of a mini-van with a box. I immediately knew what they were doing; they were going to try to get rid of them in front of Walmart.
I walked over and said, “Excuse me, are you getting rid of kittens?” They looked startled but the mom answered, “Yes, yes we are.” I asked to see what they had and they handed me a calico. Not what I had in mind and I asked what else they had. The second kitten they handed me was black. Not just black with a white spot or two, but solid black right down to her eyes at the time (they later changed). She stiffened at my picking her up and cuddling her. I looked at her and KNEW, just KNEW she was why I was there at that moment in time. I asked if she was giving them away free and the lady said, “Yes.” “I’ll take this one then if that’s okay?” and an agreement was reached immediately. I cuddled my new ‘friend’ and headed back to the van to lay her carefully in it, locking the van and cracking the windows slightly.
I half ran into the store to find my son and his friend who were still looking at the different fishing gear including the various hooks. A hook is a hook isn’t it? I hurried them out of there, told them I had a surprise.
“What’s the surprise?” the young boys asked.
“You’ll see,” I hedged.
When we got to the van, the kitten was nowhere to be seen and I began to look. “I think I may have lost it,” I told the boys lamely.
“What is it?” one of them asked.
“I can’t tell you but if you help me find it you will know,” I said teasingly.
They half-heartedly started looking for ‘something.’
After a while of us all looking I started to get alarmed as there was no sign of the little bundle of fur. I encouraged the boys with comments like, ‘it’s black,’ ‘it’s soft,’ and things like that but didn’t tell them until too much time had gone by for us not to have found it. I had the thought she somehow ‘escaped’ from the van.
Finally I told them it was a black kitten.
“Is she serious?” Joe asked Chip.
“I don’t know but I’m going to look harder,” he said enthusiastically.
They found it all the way in the back of the van by the back door where a panel had been leaned against the side of the van. She stiffened up for them too but they petted and caressed her and chattered excitedly at the baby. Don’t all babies seem cute at that age?
She eventually settled down on Joe’s shoulder, content and seemingly unaware that the vehicle was even moving. We went through a fast food joint to grab lunch and this didn’t seem to faze her either. We ended up at the Joe’s house and I told his mother that I had gotten him a new pet. She raised Russian Blues and this ‘mutt’ would certainly NOT be welcome so she ‘humored’ me for the hours we were over there as we socialized and she petted the kitten. When we left though she made sure that this kitten went with us.
I told Chip that he could NOT tell AJ about the new kitten. I wanted it to be a surprise. How hard is it for an eleven year old to keep a secret? Conversations on the phone were stilted but manageable. I decided the kitten needed a name.
I also decided that the name should come from Andrew (AJ) but without him knowing. The conversation went something like this:
“AJ, if you had a black cat, what would you name it?”
“Did you get me a black cat?” he asked excitedly.
Since I never lied to my kids I had to think fast and I think I was a lawyer in another life as I split hairs on how I answered. “No Andrew, I didn’t get you a black CAT.” Now over the years they learned to split said hairs too and to discern certain words that got emphasized. Since I had just repeated back to him what he asked, this too might have tipped him off had he been older.
“I don’t know,” he answered disappointed.
“Well would you call it Satin, or Silky, or Blacky or something like that,” I asked, favoring simple names for the kitten which was adorable. The other two cats, Buster and Flash, weren’t as thrilled at the new addition. Flash especially growled whenever it came close, but then, Flash was an eternal Bitch about things. Buster was a little more tolerant and laughed at the kitten who immediately fell in love with him.
“Ida know,” he said again musingly.
Now the kitten’s hair was like none I had ever seen before. It practically glowed it was so full of natural oils. That’s why I favored Satin for a name. Then I asked, “How about Velvet?” because after all, she was as soft as velvet.
“Naw,” he said, I’m sure he thought the names I was suggesting were too girly. “Did you get me a cat?” he repeated.
“No Andrew, I didn’t get you a CAT,” I answered. Which, technically, was true…it was a KITTEN. So I wasn’t lying to my little boy. “But if you had a black cat, what would name it?”
“I think I would name it Casper,” he told me.
“Casper?” I asked incredulous, immediately not fond of the name. “Casper is a ghost and it is white, why Casper?”
“I don’t know, I like the name.”
“But if it’s black that doesn’t suit for a cat,” I tried to reason.
“Did you get me a black cat?” he asked once again starting to catch on.
I backed off and said, “No Andrew, I didn’t get you a black CAT.” Now older children learned to realize how I worded things. I wasn’t lying but I wasn’t telling the whole truth either. I said my goodbyes and hung up soon afterwards.
So that was how AJ named ‘his’ cat without even being aware of it. The two weeks sped by and I drove the four hours down to our second home to pick him up. When I was there I told my mother about obtaining another kitten and she was like, “You travel all the time, don’t you have enough already?” She really meant with two homes, two dogs, two kids, and three other cats, perhaps I shouldn’t get another kitten…oh well.
On the way back home I told Andrew I had gotten a surprise for him. I wouldn’t of course tell him what it was but that he had to find it in the warehouse. At the time I kept the cats there, it was simpler as I spent so much time at work and travel with the boys in tow.
When we got there he immediately set off looking for ‘the surprise.’ She ran across his feet and he didn’t feel or see her. He went through the store front, he went through the production areas, he went through my offices, no ‘surprise.’ He asked repeatedly what he was looking for. I gave him the same vague answers I had to Chip and Joe back in the van two weeks prior. We were there a while and still he hadn’t seen it, as he wasn’t looking DOWN. She ran in front of him once again and he didn’t see her.
The telephone rang and I answered it. My mother was on the other end of the line. “How’d the surprise go? Did he like the kitten?” she asked eagerly.
“He hasn’t found IT yet,” I said stiffly.
Just then Casper ran across his feet yet again and he happened to look down at that instant. “A kitten?” he asked incredulously as he raced off after it. “You got me a kitten,” he shrieked excitedly. He caught her and immediately started to cry.
“He just found it,” I said dryly with a smile into the phone and my mother laughed, she could hear his voice.
We chatted while he started to cry in happiness, blubbering. Then my mother said, “Let me talk to him,” and I handed him the phone while he clutched the kitten in his other hand.
He cried into the phone, “She got me a kitten, and it’s black, and, and, and,” the rest was unrecognizable as English as he cried and blubbered. He finally handed me back the phone.
“Well, he SOUNDS happy,” my mother commented wryly and laughed. The sense of humor in this family extends all down the line. She and I both could certainly tell he was happy, he was ecstatic.
That night I had to work late so the boys camped out on the couches in my office. This pleased Andrew as he could snuggle up with his new kitten named Casper. He took a long time to settle down and I heard, “It keeps attacking my eye-lids.”
“Well if you go to sleep it should stop attacking,” I told him as I worked too hard and laughed at my son’s antics.
Now, that kitten was with me and my other son for TWO WHOLE weeks before AJ was around and yet she KNEW that this was HER boy and from that day on SHE was HIS, totally and absolutely. How she knew I don’t know but they claimed each other from that day forward. Even when he had to give her drops a couple of times a day after we took her to the vet for some kitten problems and to get her shots and then later get her fixed, she KNEW, Andrew was HERS. No one could catch her or be found petting her like AJ could. No one.
It was interesting to watch her over the years, the different behaviors in each cat and their personalities that came through. Casper was extremely petite and the vet was convinced she was a mini but at the age of one, well after the time for growth into an adult she had a growth spurt and developed longer legs and a bit of a longer body to become just a small cat but not small enough to be considered a mini. She always had that soft, silky, and oily fur…nothing like the other cats. It clung to things differently than normal cat hair did. The oily part made it slip into fabrics and impossible to get off some things.
She always adored Buster and would throw herself at his feet. Sometimes he would look down on her and laugh and other times he was disgusted at the display of adoration. He defended her to Flash, his bitchy sister who considered herself queen-bee and emphasized it when we obtained our six foot cat tree. My dream of having a cat on every leaf was never to be fulfilled as they didn’t cooperate (what cats do?)
When we moved from Morro Bay to the Big Woods I had four cats (we got Kitkat the following summer) and the other cat we had, Sunny became an outdoor cat and refused to move with us. I brought my two sons, the four cats, and one dog (the other one we gave away). They adjusted to the difference in temperatures and later snow fairly well but Casper was always the shy one, always timid, and our ‘ghost kitty’ in more ways than one. Anyone who saw her felt honored as she never appeared in company.
Andrew would have friends over and later girlfriends, I could hear them say, “I saw CASPER,” excitedly as though they had won the lottery or something.
It wasn’t until first Chip and then Andrew left for college that I began to notice a change in the cats. Casper became a wee bit more visible. I think she was convinced that since she was black that I couldn’t see her at night. A black cat however is a darker shadow and if you watch them out of the corners of your eyes instead of straight on you actually see more of those shadows (works well for real ghosts too but that is another story). She would ‘allow’ me to pet her but on her terms. I could hold out my hand and she would rub up against it. As the years went on this too would change.
About six and a half years ago I watched Flash go blind over the Christmas holidays. She adjusted well but two months later her kidneys shut down and she began to curl up into herself. She was miserable, more bitchy than I can remember and sad. I decided to put her down. Buster was lost for his littermate and sister and the other cats seemed almost confused to lose the ‘Queen’ kitty in the house. Casper seemed happier as now Buster could be adored without interference from Flash, the bitch. He enjoyed all the other cats and had always been the peacemaker.
Then a year later it was Buster’s turn to take a turn for the worse. He too went blind and his kidneys began to fail. He didn’t adjust well and was constantly confused as to why he couldn’t see things. It was pathetic to see. It was a hard decision to decide to put him down. He had been MY cat and I HIS human for eighteen and a half years. I didn’t want to do it but felt it was for the best, he was possibly in pain and definitely confused. He talked to me all the way to the vets office too, almost asking a question (he was very verbal) and yet consoling me.
The other two left were Casper and Kitkat. They took a while to adjust and without ‘their’ boys at home, I was their sole human. It took me years to corrupt them after that, to get them to take treats or lick off a plate but eventually I became ‘their’ human. Casper could be seen in the daylight now and again, always skittish as though someone was going to grab her or chase her, we never did, but she remained ‘tense’ all her life. She let me pet her a little more and even in the morning which technically is daylight. She used to look longingly on when I roughhoused with Buster and I saw that and remembered it. Sometimes I would hold her down and pet her with my fingers, rubbing back and forth, hard. She wasn’t happy for the lack of ability to escape but I could tell she loved the feel against her body. Even when I let her go she would look back almost gratefully.
The two adjusted but they had to learn that my bed was Switzerland, no fighting allowed. Now Casper and Kitkat from the day of Kitkat’s arrival ALWAYS had an antagonistic friendship. They would take swipes, they would chase each other, but they would NEVER lie together. Not like Buster with the others. On my bed they would take swipes or growl at each other and I’d get them air born from under the covers, they learned to cope with the presence of the other, grudgingly. I watched amused. From time to time they would ‘accidentally’ touch when they would stretch out or something and it was funny to see their expressions when they realized their mistakes. They would carefully walk past each other on the bed until the tension was too much and one or the other had to jump off the bed.
Over the years I came to understand that Casper was a slob. She went through a molting every year where she let her hair mat up and I’d either scissor it or clip it off with my clippers for the dogs. It was always a long process because of her skittishness. The last couple of years I let it go on longer because I didn’t wish to stress her out and we did what we could by hand.
This year her molting was getting very messy and at its peak when I realized one of the cats was pulling food out of the automatic feeder and leaving it on the floor, I thought they didn’t ‘like’ it and were spitting it out. I realize now that perhaps she simply couldn’t ‘see’ it. She began to lose weight and behave very sluggish, steps were becoming difficult. At fourteen I worried.
When I went to P-Town for Woman’s Week I anticipated and feared that I would return to find her gone. Instead I found where she had climbed on my new bed and elsewhere and shed some of her mats. This proved she was still kicking. Then I saw her today. Her eyes were mucky, she didn’t ‘hear’ me when I spoke to her, and climbing the stairs was very painful to watch. I even caught her, something never possible before. She half-heartedly took a swipe at me with her claws, she didn’t recognize me. I cleaned her up and realized she couldn’t see or hear me. It was time to make the painful decision to end her life and today I made it. As standoffish as she was, I will miss this beautiful little cat.
So, a friend recommended that I get more Vitamin D for my aches and pains in my joints. I’m EXTREMELY white and pale so getting a bit of sun was in order. Of course the idea didn’t come to fruitation during summer where the nice hot sun would have taken care of it for me, naturally (for free). So I decided to go use the tanning salon this week. Before you all tell me how bad that is for me, I know, I don’t care though. Meanwhile I went in to see my options at the salon. Boy they have advanced in the last ten years since I did this.
Anyway, the first day I could see a noticeable difference after only seven minutes in the bed. A distinct tan line around my hairline. Nice right?
I could feel a bit of skin tightening but I have this marvelous lotion from Switzerland that works wonderfully and solved that problem since it contains collagen.
Day two I noticed no difference which was kind of disappointing. Was hoping for something a bit more miraculous like instant release of aches and pains from this Vitamin D thing. No go.
Day three we decided to vamp it up a little and go to EIGHT minutes. Well this day had the most significant ‘difference.’ Now perhaps I should have explained that laying in the tanning bed, naked, means that EVERYTHING is exposed to get the full rays. Yep, that does mean EVERYTHING. And yes, I burnt my bum. I didn’t realize I’d burnt my bum as I drove my motorcycle into downtown and went shopping at the mall. My jeans felt a little odd that day but I ignored it and didn’t think anything of it until I got home and I began to itch. I’m not talking all out scratching, but a bit of rubbing on the ole bum. It took me hours (meanwhile the skin had time to set) to realize why I itched, I was quite red. In both sets of cheeks when I noticed it. And it’s a little bit sore I might add. Nothing like having hot cross buns….
So day four came around and we (the figurative we, me, myself, and I, all three of us) decided to stay home and not go to the tanning beds. The motorcycle rides today were decidedly uncomfortable. Neither the satin undies (no commando with this) or the jeans against them prevented a distinctive ‘tightening’ on my skin.
Day five is tomorrow and I think this will be my last foray into this endeavor (depends on if the ‘deal’ I purchased gives out) but I think it’s been a lesson learned.
a bet in which the person betting forecasts the first three finishers in a race in the correct order.
a run of three wins or grand events.“today is a trifecta of birthdays”
My search for the perfect ‘shoe’ began a year ago. It was a casual (pun intended) thing that started innocently enough. Seeing the pictures of what women were wearing at the GCLS in Dallas made me begin to really think about what I would wear to such events (I’m such a girl). And of course what I wouldn’t wear (sorry but I just say NO to crocs (although I’m assured they are comfy and some LUV them). So began my search for ‘Rainbow Shoes.’
Now I kinda dig these because one, they are in basic black (they go with EVERYTHING), two they have that funky rainbow woven around them, and three, LOOK at that funky way the laces go up them as well!
A few years ago I was attracted to someone here on Facebook. She was pretty, intelligent, and a go-getter….or so I thought. When we first started speaking about 2-3 years ago she let me know that I was too negative for us to have a relationship. As a result of many conversations including skype with this woman I changed my approach and ‘negativity’ towards what we would speak about. She actually taught me to always have an alternative idea to anything she suggested that I ‘shot down.’ I took her ‘criticisms’ and turned it into a positive thing. I did not have hopes of dating her anymore, I’d moved on. I became a good friend. I put her links up on my blog, my website(s) (both of them) and in consideration for anyone who signed up for her motivational courses I would receive a ‘commission’ for the referral from my sites. I never received a commission and when I asked about that she had ‘no knowledge’ about any such referrals and didn’t even ‘know’ (when I had asked her in the first place for the links to the referral program which SHE GAVE me) that I had put up on my site(s).
Okay, my bad. I got ‘took.’ For my knowledge, my ‘expertise’ in business (after all I ran companies for 25 years), and for me being a ‘friend’ to this person. It happens. It’s Facebook. But I had been her friend outside of Facebook too and I was a little hurt.
A while later she approached me about writing a book for her motivational programs. She first wanted me to write about a woman who ‘succeeded’ because she had taken this persons courses. I wrote a few pages but she edited them to death as it wasn’t the story she wished to tell. I gave up soon after that one and suggested she write it herself. During THIS discussion she felt I should change the name of my company as she didn’t ‘understand’ the name of Shadoe for the publishing company and felt her lofty and monied ‘friends’ wouldn’t understand it and think it was a typo. I explained what it meant and that I was NOT changing my company name JUST for her.
Meanwhile, I had asked her during the course of our friendly conversations, again through skype, phone, and inboxes on Facebook, to help me edit a novella. She wanted to go over the book line by line and consider each and every nuance of it. We got through maybe five or six pages before my frustration had us stopping the exercise. Then she decided she wanted to be paid $1000 for editing a 30 page novella. I ended that discussion too.
Then she tried a new tactic. She wanted me to put into each and every book I sold a link to her programs of motivational speaking. I listened to each and every one of her ‘tapes’ on the internet and found them BORING and not worth the monies she supposedly gets for them. I turned the tables on her and asked how much she was willing to pay to do that, I meant put them in my books, and she quickly backed off. I think she believed I was clueless about how she wanted something for nothing.
Next she decided we should have a get-a-way where she would charge people $1000-$2000 and go to a resort, somewhere warm in February. In exchange these people would get me and a couple of other authors to meet in person and she would talk with them about her agenda. She was certain we would make $20,000 each. I had to point out to her that several of her destination choices were NOT GLBT friendly and we could all be arrested for even going to them as Lesbians! Again, that pesky negativity coming through. When it came down to it though it was just another one of her money making schemes and nothing came to fruitation of it
A while later we had again started chatting and she was telling me how she had made so much money for people who took her courses (a familiar theme) and she knew so many people willing to invest in GLBT programs and ideas. I put her in contact with a friend of mine who wished to make a GLBT movie since I knew she NEEDED funds to make it happen. She not only got in contact with my friend, she tried to take it over. She got the other friend to change the name of the movie. She wouldn’t skype with the friend and it ended up costing the friend over $70 in phone charges! Then she had the audacity to try and charge the friend for her ‘consulting.’ She also then had the audacity to ask to be named ‘Producer’ on the film. The friend has written the book, written the screenplay, done all the steps to get this movie made and this person should step in at the last minute and try all these tactics to make it ‘hers?’ I didn’t of course find out about this for many months and nearly lost a friend because of this.
Now I am not clueless and this all happened over many, many, months. Some of it I found out later. After this last incident though I had to question WHY I would even put up with this person as a friend as any of you reading this would too. I limited my interactions with her. I researched her background only to find out some of what she had told me about her was a bit ‘off’ shall we say, a questionable background of distorted facts.
I found her behaviors, after years of observance to be self-motivated. What could I do FOR her?
She has always been one of those on Facebook who tags you for every little thing she puts on her timeline that has her ‘selling’ one of her agendas. I removed myself time and again. Recently she started going into lesbian fiction groups and posting for people’s opinions on her covers to her supposed book that she is writing…again the motivational BS with a new idea.
While I applaud her dedication to her agenda, it is an agenda. If she, as she claims has motivated over 2,000,000 to join a group on Facebook…then why doesn’t her ‘program’ support her? Why does she move every couple of months for various reasons from homophobia, to supposed abuse, to supposed observance of a crime? There is always a reason. There is always another move. IF her ‘program’ was successful like she says then she would make the money and not need to ride on someone else’s coat-tails.
Recently I removed her from my Lesbian Fiction group because she kept posting the same boring covers for opinions. Spamming as it were. We got complaints. We also got inboxed by other admins of other Lesbian Fiction groups that complained about the same thing and warned us.
I had chosen since the incident with the film to ‘ignore’ her on Facebook but her behaviors had increased. Today she tried another tactic, the same old bull with a new face, AGAIN (I have removed HER name for the sake of anonymity here):
If you had tons of funding to make a difference for LGBT community and for yourself, what would you do? I have a dream to raise $1,000,000,000 for LGBT facebook group admins, activists, creative artists and charities through my free LGBT-friendly affiliate program. Want more info?
No thank you
Can I ask why?
I’d also like it if you would stop tagging me on your posts
And no you may not ask why
Unsmiling Emoticon Image
So you unfriended me over this, that’s a bit petty
I’ve supported you for years, helped you even, this is the ‘thanks’ you give people like that
s m h
Not ONCE in the YEARS I have known you have you shown any support. Posting about my books, or even READING them. It’s all been about NAME WITHELD and what everyone else can do for you to make your dreams come true. You come across as wanting to help others but it’s all about you making money. How sad is that?
After this she blocked me on Facebook, whew, close call right, lol. She is now inboxing others to ‘gather her posse’ of course and see that she did nothing wrong. What she did wrong was USE me and others. She used our contacts to make more contacts to use them too.
Well, that’s the end of this but I hope those of you who ‘spot’ who this is are warned. Those of you who will hear her ‘boo hoo’ story that a lesfic author ‘turned’ on her have both sides, and those of you who think this is just MORE lesbian drama like it IS, can shrug it off as I intend to do so.
In my defense, yes I was interested in her. Yes, I let her know. She turned me down. I got that but still managed to remain friends, or so I thought. That was YEARS ago and I got over it. I would never be vindictive about my interest in her and getting turned down. I guess as a few real friends have told me, I’m just too nice. I refuse to allow her to get away with this without my side being told. I have not named her here but if you choose to inbox me I will discuss it. I felt publically shaming her served no purpose and while I do not believe in her ‘programs’ or agenda, I refuse to be vilified over this. I wish her well.
Recently I read a story of a woman ‘fighting’ for the RIGHT TO DIE. http://www.cnn.com/2014/10/07/opinion/maynard-assisted-suicide-cancer-dignity/index.html
I think a lot of people might have problems with this issue just for the fact that the woman is only twenty nine years old. Yes, she is young, yes her family has to deal with her death so soon, and yes it should be her choice.
The Right to Die issue is only approved in a few states in the United States including Oregon, Vermont, and Washington. In the state of Montana it is allowed but only after it is court ordered, that is, you have to SUE for the right to have a doctor help you die. For her to be ‘allowed’ to die she had to move from California where it is not allowed but to Oregon where she could obtain a pill for when she is ready which meant she had to uproot her life, find new doctors, and her husband had to take a leave of absence from his job. This prescription which is allowed to only a few patients, for those who are terminally ill, is prescribed for those who choose to end their life with dignity.
Dying with dignity is a funny thing. It isn’t about depression which a lot of people assume. It’s about ending the pain in your body, ending the pain so you can go onto something better. Family members and even those who know nothing about the issue weigh in on this. Sometimes out of fear of loss, sometimes out of ignorance.
Personally I believe in the right to die with dignity. You might ask WHY? I knew a thirty four year old woman who went through horrible and experimental chemotherapy. https://kannemeinel.wordpress.com/2013/05/21/do-you-believe-in-miracles/ The pain this woman had to go through, psychological and physical was excruciating. She chose to go through it though for the sake of her young children. She survived, but the residual pain that this woman lives with every day of her survival can be a little overwhelming. She maintains her dignity with humor and ignoring the pain. The doctors tell her that she has a high tolerance for pain, that doesn’t solve the problems, the aches in joints and muscles just exists in her ‘young’ body, even though the chemo aged it by at least twenty years beyond her chronological age. Someday, it might be time to make that choice and I believe she should have that choice. Not just because of the extreme pain that one has to endure, but because someday the alternative of living is just too hard and what is in the beyond is more tenable.
This one young woman’s story that I have included above I understand, I agree with her. While the tragedy of her death is that she is merely twenty nine, the family having to go on without her is even more tragic. Having to deal with that loss is overwhelming but keeping her, in pain, in agony, is selfish.
The reason I post this is because I was the thirty four year old woman I mention here. Thirteen years later I deal daily with the residual effects of chemotherapy and radiation. The chemotherapy took my waist length hair, that grew back. The radiation took my thyroid, I take a pill every day for the rest of my life called levothyroxine. Recently they changed the manufacturer of this pill; it causes me to gain weight. Yes, I probably could lose the weight through physical activity, but the pain in my joints and muscles is such that that kind of activity causes more pain. I should really invest in the companies that make ibuprofen. I’m one of those that has to take 1000mg at a time for it even to be effective. Yes, I know that you should NEVER take more than 2400mg’s in a day. The reason for this is you can cause irreparable harm to your liver and perhaps your kidneys. I’m very well aware of that as I developed a fatty liver (not from the ibuprofen), which has since gone away. I do not take my ibuprofen every day, just for the simple fact that you build up a tolerance for it and I have to ‘endure’ my pain. My doctor could prescribe pain meds, but I hate taking pills. The thought of being a little ‘dulled’ to the pain, building up residual tolerance to the meds, that does not appeal to me. I will not and have never been a drug seeking patient. I’m very well aware of my ‘health’ choices and how lucky I am to be here. But someday, it might be too much. And not out of depression or impulse, but a right to die with dignity, I would like to make my choice as I did when I decided to pursue the experimental treatment that saved my young life.
I don’t tell you this for your sympathy. I know it’s an amazing story and it’s mine. But I want you think, really think, about what if it was you. Wouldn’t you like the choice to alleviate the pain, to choose your manner of death rather than wait for it? Why make those you are going to leave behind suffer while they watch you die? I like the idea of letting people have choices. I’m not talking ‘let’s kill all the elderly’ or euthanasia. I’m talking those who know they are going to die, let them make the choice of when.
When it’s my time to die, and I kinda dig that I might get the choice, let me die with dignity.
Well my sense of humor got the better of me and I just HAD to make these latter three. Now I feel like they are all ‘dressed up and no where to go.’ I know there are people out there who will love having their ‘lesbian’ or ‘butch’ or ‘boi’ cards to certify they are ‘members’ but I can’t in good conscience charge for these, so I’m working on the website to find a way to send them out with signed books. Meanwhile if you see me at an event, please feel free to ask if I have my membership card with me and I’ll comp you one…lol
Don’t want THIS to happen to YOU!Website