Not going to talk about it yet

 Don't think for a second that I have nothing to say about the current status of the United States. I'm too pissed off and afraid to say anything yet. Let me just say that my own security and living expenses are being held for hostage and yes I'm afraid.

***shivers***❄️❄️❄️

 I've busted my tail and prayed over my car battery for the last 48 hours preparing for the potential ice storm predicted for tonight. I've lived through them before. The storms from my childhood were almost magical with the woods shimmering with ice, they looked like a fairy tale. As an adult, who once was a homeowner and still drives a car, they've been replaced with nightmare visions of nature's unsympathetic destruction.

Picture a quiet night in the mid 1990's. Sitting around the table when the electric cut off and everything became too quiet. Then the destruction began. A cracking sound followed by a solid Boom. A tree just snapped off from the top. My husband went outside to investigate, not wise at all, and ran back in as more trees rained down amid the ice assault. 

The next day the temperature remained zero and single digits. It looked as though a tornado had struck our community. Trees crushed cars, laid over the roads, had crashed through windows and roofs. Unlike a tornado, none were spared. Cars off the roads in medians and ditches. 

So no matter that I no longer am a homeowner or married, the memory of ice storms is still tapping on my brain, reminding me of that particular time. My racing around the past two days was in preparation for tonight. No driving until it melts. Enough supplies to cover my needs. No one, who is intelligent, should be out there driving right now, and yet I keep hearing the constant blaring of sirens meaning that they didn't think. 

Just sitting and wishing that this little box I live in had a fireplace. Or at least something to cuddle up with, preferably something with fur, whiskers and a tail.

Stay safe.

Kel 

Holidays? Humph

 First let me say that this is not a self pity party. I'm not weeping, not depressed. What I am is sort of blah. 

I do my best to beat back feelings of loneliness, I decorate, light those holiday smelling candles, try to get myself at least something new that I need. I talk with old friends who are dear to me. But inevitably I spend the holidays alone. And this year for some reason the blahs are continuing past the holidays.

I haven't left my apartment for two weeks. I don't really want to either. I feel insulated here in my chair, never changing out of my pajamas. Doing nothing but playing on my phone, reading and sometimes watching videos.

Anyway I  just want to say that staying in and shutting out the world is not something I normally do. I feel like a switch has been flipped and it's not returning to normal. It's a little late in life for me to become agoraphobic. 

So my refusal to take down the Christmas decorations and staying at home is maybe my mind telling me that we didn't really have Christmas and we're going to wait here for it. Let's just admit that in my past Christmas was a big deal, and having it shrink to nothing is very hard for me to deal with.

65 is BS

Turning 65 has been the biggest butt pain I've had since since 2022 when I was able to wade through the gazillions of paperwork to get Medicaid, social security and temporary housing assistance. It would be damn nice for things to stay the same, but nope.

Hey!! Happy birthday! We have a present for you. You will no longer be covered under Medicaid. Oh! And we're going to take money out of your social security check to pay for Medicare, because we know your broke, but thems the rules. So sorry that you are on so many medications, you'll need to pay some more for that coverage.

It's like it wasn't obvious that I was on Medicaid because I'm poor. That seems to have suddenly changed overnight.. because now I'm 65. I have spent the last couple of weeks calling and waiting on hold to try and make this a sensible transition. Why the federal government thinks that 65 is a great age to mess with older folks is beyond me .

But it could be worse and likely will be. Why? Because the person who won the election has a little 900 page guide on how to strip funds and melt down government agencies. He doesn't give a HOOT who is hurt by what will be done. I can honestly say that millions of our elderly will lose their homes, meds and food. It will be the biggest crisis imaginable with the old folks pushed to the streets. The authors of project 2025 must have not taken to account what messing with SS and Medicare will do. They think that all of us dependent on SS should go back to work. Work till we die. I guess only the wealthy deserve to retire. We worked for that security for years. It's ours and not an entitlement, some sort of gift. NO IT ISN'T.

So I'm trying my hardest to wade through this, but how long will it be before they destroy it? The end of 2025 is what has been predicted. I'm sure it would solve their problems by rounding us up and placing us in camps like they intend to do with immigrants. Just gas the old folks so they can take the money they want so badly.

The morons who voted him in are not separate because of their votes . Yeah, you voted for someone who has no respect for our democracy. He will systematically dismantle the Constitution. Your rights will disappear the same as the rest of us. I'm sure you'll be proud of your choice when our democracy becomes a dictatorship. Thanks so much for fucking the country over.

For David, please rest in peace.🙏

 This.morning, after I had been asleep about 2 hours, my niece called to let me know that my brother had died. It didn't hit me right away, at least not until after the call. Trying and failing to go back to sleep I've given up and so here I sit with my coffee, writing in my blog trying to make sense of a sad life and a sadder ending.

I'm going to stop here and come back later.

†""*""***"""""****""***

I prefer the memories of our youth. My brother became an almost unlikeable adult. As a child he was a temper inducing name caller and a mimic. So you're wondering he was worse as an adult? Yes.  Whatever mental or emotional cause he had as a child it wasn't properly diagnosed. When he was in 2nd grade he was tested and diagnosed with a "perception problem". All I can remember is that Mom described it as "if you are seeing a telephone pole that is straight up and down, he sees it as leaning." It still didn't touch on his problems. Full blown tantrums before bedtime every night. Going to extended family's homes and refusing to take off his coat and leave the front door. He did grow out of this as he aged 

He couldn't go up to a neighbors house and knock on the door. As I got older it seemed like social anxiety. But, as an adult he consistently was a no show for holidays and birthdays, especially for his own children who were raised by our mother because he failed at taking proper care of them.

He seemed manic depressive in a big way. He talked about himself like he had superhuman powers (which freaked me out) and then would hit the lowest of lows and say suicidal intentions. Starting at age 15 he found marijuana which became a life long habit. He also drank everyday.

As far as personal relationships went, he had none. He was briefly married because he was responsible for 2 pregnancies, same lady, who happened to be my best friend. My father pushed them into marriage and it was a disaster. He bullied. He selfishly told her that his paycheck was for him, and that hers should pay for the kids needs. He bullied and raged at our mother. 

So yes, the only good memories I have were during his name calling years. After years and years of him not being a part of the family and general strange behavior, I distanced myself from him. So did his children and the rest of the family. He would sometimes comment on my Facebook posts, and I'd answer him.

It does hurt that he died. He had fallen and broke ribs. I told him to see a doctor, and he did go to the E.R and had X-rays. However, he failed to follow up, self medicating with pot and beer. I suspect that he was given pain meds while at the hospital as well. He fell again, vomited blood and died. The police detective had to search to contact the family.

Sadly no one in our family has the money to pay for funeral costs. I'm not sure if we will get together for a remembrance because frankly there were not many happy ones. I cannot afford to fly out or drive that far.

I live alone as well. I don't do drugs nor consume alcohol. My health is eh. Fix one problem, find another. I've told my niece and Aunt and Uncle that when I go I also want to be surrendered to the state. I figure I'll be gone and spending money on me would be against my wishes. 

I wish my brother had had a happier life. I hope that he finds the peace and joy that eluded him on earth.  That's what I wish for all of us.

Kel 

Buried in paper 🤨☠️✍️

These requests for documentation come in waves, usually 4 times a year, And I hate every second of it. Digging through old records, deciphering the legal speak, rushing to copy and deliver. It never arrives singlely, typically it's multiple requests from different sources. 

The pension plan paperwork from a past employer has a total of 33 pages designed to make your mind whirl like a rabbit being chased by a fox. I've spoken with both my bank and said pension company and still don't know what to do. I need expert advice. I've left a message for my uncle for a call back. He's a finance whiz, but I'm not sure if he will be up to the task due to health issues.

The other one is a quarterly request from Medicaid because they somehow feel that I'm a millionaire taking advantage of the system. This time was car title, pension and bank account info just in case I die, since I will be 65 next month and they want my leftovers. I didn't know that 65 was a death number, I've always thought it was just another year.

So yeah, I hate paperwork. That's not going to change, ever. In past jobs paperwork was part of the battle but I didn't hate it. I just hate my own.

Kel

24-24 hours a day I want to be sedated

 So I had my second arteriogram and WOW was it different. In March I woke up (fiddling with my nasal cannula) while the doctor spoke in pig Latin (well to me it was as I didn't understand a word) telling me that I needed a bypass. On Friday I had a different experience entirely. Instead of gibberish it was me screaming "I want to be sedated!" I was later told that I snored in between bellowing for drugs.

Cut me a break, I didn't want to feel pain, and someone pushing a balloon through my arteries hurt like hell. I didn't expect it as it was far from what I had previously experienced. So now I have stents in my left leg, 3 in total. I also was gifted with a grapefruit sized hematoma (bruise) in my right groin area. It looks worse than it feels. The actual pain is the left leg where the stents were manipulated into my arteries.

I'm imprisoned in the apartment as the steps of pain and my manual transmission are no-no's right now. Follow up next week with the surgeon. And for some reason my PC wants to see me as well. Some policy regarding post op. 

I'm praying that this cures my drunken gait. So hoping that it brings my leg back to normal. I still have body parts misbehaving, namely the tumor on my parathyroid. There seems to be no hurrying happening with the endocrinologist. November was the  earliest appointment available. I'd really like to approach the New Year without a tumor. 

That's all for now. Below is my in living color bruise. I guess I should be grateful that both of my legs don't look like this.

Kel