kyburg: (grief)
Mom is in the hospital, after being in convalescent care less than a week - and not doing well.

This is my onliest parent, she's 89 and I go out to Hemet tomorrow to say goodbye. I am almost certain of it. The nursing staff said tonight I was "probably" okay waiting that long.

Please think of me, and hold me tight. I have my fella, but my back is so bare without my Mom.

Oh boy.

Apr. 9th, 2012 04:50 pm
kyburg: (grief)
One of the things I love about some people (and I'm being facetious) is how they work like mad to Not Do THAT During The Holidays (IE, Christmas) but have no trouble letting fly at Easter.

No, really. I've got at least two stories of kids coming out to their parents and being tossed out of the house at Easter to show for that.

Looks like I'm going to have to add one more to the list - it looks like my nephew outed his mother.

She's 'pulled the trigger' for a divorce, according to BIL. Nephew posted it on FB after Sis had taken the daughter with her on a 'camping trip in the mountains' - across state lines, if I read it right. Best case, she's going to have a Come-to-Jesus with all of us at some point - worst, it's Spring Break, that's a week to move her and daughter permanently to Arizona. You think I'm joking.

Me? I'm talking with lil' bro as much as I can to try to protect my mother. She adores that BIL my Sis wants to kick to the curb (and it makes no sense, he's as kickworthy as a basket of newborn puppies) - lil' bro is worried. "She won't sleep." he said. Me? Dead. Like in the ER, dead. Just give her a good shove, that's all it would take. This qualifies.

Me? Working like hell to not make it worse on my watch. Checking the angles, verifying my work - how do I put this in a place that makes sense? I need to stop being so angry I can't think.

Because I'm going to need my A game, and right away. Can't fly off the handle, can't quit or hide - but I've been lied to, and all of the 'don't look here' distractions weren't my imagination - the bullshit detector still works.

I knew something Big was up, but I didn't know it was Big and Stupid.

We're talking about a 30 year marriage where whatever Sis wanted, she got. Her husband had to travel and make sacrifices with family time to pay for it all - but she got the education she needed, she didn't have to work full-time when the kids were small and the house is so big she needs weekly help to keep it clean (and she gets it, no questions asked). It's an absolute showplace - just the pictures on the walls are multiple thousands over the years of photography to produce them. The yards look like they belong to a resort hotel, pool and all.

She wanted to stop working and go into private practice. Not long ago, she moved the offices to cheaper digs and that was the last I heard. What are the odds. Bet that business has failed and BIL isn't willing to put any more money into it. I am certain Sis would angrily correct me on getting everything she wanted - nobody gets that, and that's likely more true but - honestly, she's been denied very little.

The worst part is she was claiming the daughter was ill. And yes, if my parents were getting divorced, I might be prepared to threaten suicide - wouldn't you, if it would buy some time?

Lucy has some explaining to do. Perhaps.

Just once. I'd like to be wrong about just how selfish and egocentric...to the point of sociopathology...my sister is.

So. Fired. That goes without saying, right?

No Comment

Feb. 9th, 2012 11:24 am
kyburg: (facepalm)
A Highway Patrol trooper enters the scene first, gun drawn, and kicks the driver's window of Greene's four-door sedan. After several moments, the trooper opens the door.

The trooper, his gun still raised, then gives Greene conflicting commands. He first tells him not to move, then tells him to come forward.

A second trooper quickly cuffs Greene's wrist and pulls him from the car, which rolls forward until an officer stops it.

Greene flops to the ground, clearly dazed as five officers rush him. A sixth officer, with Henderson police, enters the frame late and delivers five well-placed kicks to Greene's face.

"Stop resisting mother (expletive)!" one officer yells.

Greene doesn't scream until a second Henderson officer knees him in the midsection -- and then does it three more times. Greene was later treated for fractured ribs.

Police suspected Greene was intoxicated as he weaved among lanes about 4 a.m. on Oct. 29, 2010, and finally stopped his car near Lake Mead Parkway and Boulder Highway in Henderson.

But that wasn't the case, which they soon discovered after they searched Greene.

"Call in medical," one officer says in the video. "We found some insulin in his pocket. ... He's semiconscious."

"Let's get medical out here. He's a diabetic, he's probably in shock," the officer later tells dispatch.

Greene's lawsuit said officers then forced him to stand by a patrol car in handcuffs and blow into a Breathalyzer, despite being injured. Paramedics later arrived and treated him for low blood sugar.


Note to self: DO NOT DRIVE WHILE DIABETIC IN NEVADA.

Honestly.

And the whole bullshit about 'they oughta wear identifying braceletts or something something?'

Riiight.

(Article does not mention race, but if the fellow was a Type II, odds are he's a POC as well. No words large enough, okay?)
kyburg: (wonder)
Got a text from Jim earlier today - his boss, the *other* lead tech?

Has had a massive, hemorrhagic stroke and is in ICU.

Yes, he just went to the funeral for the other one less than three weeks ago, who died of liver failure post Hep-C/liver transplant.

Neither of these men are retirement age, far from it.

Light the good stuff. Leave the good sake out for Coyote. Say a prayer.

It is what it is, and all that.

(My Mom? Still alive, still in the hospital. But improving. Her nurse that I spoke to at lunch? Tells me she has this one - 'she's one of us, and you know what that means.' Oh hell to the yes I do. We. Won't. Mess. Gotcha.)

I am sobbing inside for Jim. This is going to absolutely gut him.
kyburg: (wonder)
Got a text from Jim earlier today - his boss, the *other* lead tech?

Has had a massive, hemorrhagic stroke and is in ICU.

Yes, he just went to the funeral for the other one less than three weeks ago, who died of liver failure post Hep-C/liver transplant.

Neither of these men are retirement age, far from it.

Light the good stuff. Leave the good sake out for Coyote. Say a prayer.

It is what it is, and all that.

(My Mom? Still alive, still in the hospital. But improving. Her nurse that I spoke to at lunch? Tells me she has this one - 'she's one of us, and you know what that means.' Oh hell to the yes I do. We. Won't. Mess. Gotcha.)

I am sobbing inside for Jim. This is going to absolutely gut him.
kyburg: (wonder)
Got a text from Jim earlier today - his boss, the *other* lead tech?

Has had a massive, hemorrhagic stroke and is in ICU.

Yes, he just went to the funeral for the other one less than three weeks ago, who died of liver failure post Hep-C/liver transplant.

Neither of these men are retirement age, far from it.

Light the good stuff. Leave the good sake out for Coyote. Say a prayer.

It is what it is, and all that.

(My Mom? Still alive, still in the hospital. But improving. Her nurse that I spoke to at lunch? Tells me she has this one - 'she's one of us, and you know what that means.' Oh hell to the yes I do. We. Won't. Mess. Gotcha.)

I am sobbing inside for Jim. This is going to absolutely gut him.
kyburg: (Hurt)
See icon. That's me, trying to deal with six year old with separation anxiety.

He hates school. Can't say I'm surprised, they aren't impressed at all with him either. He won't sit still, won't pay attention to directions, distracts himself by playing with his shoes, pestering the kid next to him, talking talking talking talking....

But give him a task, and he's all over it. Let him do worksheets - he loves it. But no, this is a summer session and that would be WORK. Their idea of a summer break is going to be the end of us.

He's been benched from ever leaving the school on a field trip again. That's nearly $200 down the drain because - ta da! - it's his fault. (Yes, you have to pay for field trips. Why yes, yes we did. In advance. Why wouldn't we?)

I take him to Kaiser - they look at age, gender, starting kindergarden and disregard the parents telling the LCSW about the international adoption at age 3.5? Yanno, the one that scared him shitless? THAT ONE?

Oh no. ADHD. Go sign up for parenting classes, you dumbass. And get ready to start drugging your kid, some of them actually do well as adults. Hope you were expecting to institutionalize him at some point. Get out. Your turn is over, there's somebody waiting outside. Scram.

Welcome to becoming a statistic.

And he's still scared.

The next thing you hear is 'make sure you're taking care of yourself - you need to get respite!' Suuuuure. My kid is so uncertain about where his parents are, he's checking to see when my next church meeting is. Which is once a month or so. When's the next one, Mom? Now? Now?

I'm about glued to him as it is, and I don't dare go far. And I'm the one he hates.

He about comes unglued every time Jim leaves the room. Since he leaves first in the morning, and I take kid to school four days a week? I have a kid ready to run after the car every day, even though I'm sitting right there. 9 times out of 10, I'm also the only one insisting that shush means shush (not talk louder to be heard), so I am also not the Nice One. He wants Daddy. Well, shit kid so do I.

The motor mouth when tired. The yackity yack in bed once he's been put there. The lack of napping, so I have a bucket of bolts at the end of the day. No cope. None. No television, nothing. No fun at all.

This morning, he woke up tantruming. Fired us all. Said everyone was mean to him. I replied that when he didn't behave, he was the meanest one in the room. Meant it. The tantrum? Get up, put your toys back on your bed and get dressed. I put the toys back. Oh, the humanity.

He remembers everything. The clarity of process in this kid really dissuades me from jumping back to the hyperactivity bandwagon. It also makes me wonder how much he remembers prior to adoption, and what exactly happened.

The being cute to get out of it makes me wonder most of all. Did they try to place him prior to us, and it failed because he wouldn't behave? All he had to do was what he's doing now - and voila, back with foster parents. You remember, the ones he cried nine months for and begged us to return him to? Those parents.

The amount of work right now, just trying to get services in - and making sure he stays in a school setting right now? All hands, the cook and any politician I can drag into the fray. Really.

He's still scared. And I'm so angry I can barely think straight.
kyburg: (Hurt)
See icon. That's me, trying to deal with six year old with separation anxiety.

He hates school. Can't say I'm surprised, they aren't impressed at all with him either. He won't sit still, won't pay attention to directions, distracts himself by playing with his shoes, pestering the kid next to him, talking talking talking talking....

But give him a task, and he's all over it. Let him do worksheets - he loves it. But no, this is a summer session and that would be WORK. Their idea of a summer break is going to be the end of us.

He's been benched from ever leaving the school on a field trip again. That's nearly $200 down the drain because - ta da! - it's his fault. (Yes, you have to pay for field trips. Why yes, yes we did. In advance. Why wouldn't we?)

I take him to Kaiser - they look at age, gender, starting kindergarden and disregard the parents telling the LCSW about the international adoption at age 3.5? Yanno, the one that scared him shitless? THAT ONE?

Oh no. ADHD. Go sign up for parenting classes, you dumbass. And get ready to start drugging your kid, some of them actually do well as adults. Hope you were expecting to institutionalize him at some point. Get out. Your turn is over, there's somebody waiting outside. Scram.

Welcome to becoming a statistic.

And he's still scared.

The next thing you hear is 'make sure you're taking care of yourself - you need to get respite!' Suuuuure. My kid is so uncertain about where his parents are, he's checking to see when my next church meeting is. Which is once a month or so. When's the next one, Mom? Now? Now?

I'm about glued to him as it is, and I don't dare go far. And I'm the one he hates.

He about comes unglued every time Jim leaves the room. Since he leaves first in the morning, and I take kid to school four days a week? I have a kid ready to run after the car every day, even though I'm sitting right there. 9 times out of 10, I'm also the only one insisting that shush means shush (not talk louder to be heard), so I am also not the Nice One. He wants Daddy. Well, shit kid so do I.

The motor mouth when tired. The yackity yack in bed once he's been put there. The lack of napping, so I have a bucket of bolts at the end of the day. No cope. None. No television, nothing. No fun at all.

This morning, he woke up tantruming. Fired us all. Said everyone was mean to him. I replied that when he didn't behave, he was the meanest one in the room. Meant it. The tantrum? Get up, put your toys back on your bed and get dressed. I put the toys back. Oh, the humanity.

He remembers everything. The clarity of process in this kid really dissuades me from jumping back to the hyperactivity bandwagon. It also makes me wonder how much he remembers prior to adoption, and what exactly happened.

The being cute to get out of it makes me wonder most of all. Did they try to place him prior to us, and it failed because he wouldn't behave? All he had to do was what he's doing now - and voila, back with foster parents. You remember, the ones he cried nine months for and begged us to return him to? Those parents.

The amount of work right now, just trying to get services in - and making sure he stays in a school setting right now? All hands, the cook and any politician I can drag into the fray. Really.

He's still scared. And I'm so angry I can barely think straight.
kyburg: (Hurt)
See icon. That's me, trying to deal with six year old with separation anxiety.

He hates school. Can't say I'm surprised, they aren't impressed at all with him either. He won't sit still, won't pay attention to directions, distracts himself by playing with his shoes, pestering the kid next to him, talking talking talking talking....

But give him a task, and he's all over it. Let him do worksheets - he loves it. But no, this is a summer session and that would be WORK. Their idea of a summer break is going to be the end of us.

He's been benched from ever leaving the school on a field trip again. That's nearly $200 down the drain because - ta da! - it's his fault. (Yes, you have to pay for field trips. Why yes, yes we did. In advance. Why wouldn't we?)

I take him to Kaiser - they look at age, gender, starting kindergarden and disregard the parents telling the LCSW about the international adoption at age 3.5? Yanno, the one that scared him shitless? THAT ONE?

Oh no. ADHD. Go sign up for parenting classes, you dumbass. And get ready to start drugging your kid, some of them actually do well as adults. Hope you were expecting to institutionalize him at some point. Get out. Your turn is over, there's somebody waiting outside. Scram.

Welcome to becoming a statistic.

And he's still scared.

The next thing you hear is 'make sure you're taking care of yourself - you need to get respite!' Suuuuure. My kid is so uncertain about where his parents are, he's checking to see when my next church meeting is. Which is once a month or so. When's the next one, Mom? Now? Now?

I'm about glued to him as it is, and I don't dare go far. And I'm the one he hates.

He about comes unglued every time Jim leaves the room. Since he leaves first in the morning, and I take kid to school four days a week? I have a kid ready to run after the car every day, even though I'm sitting right there. 9 times out of 10, I'm also the only one insisting that shush means shush (not talk louder to be heard), so I am also not the Nice One. He wants Daddy. Well, shit kid so do I.

The motor mouth when tired. The yackity yack in bed once he's been put there. The lack of napping, so I have a bucket of bolts at the end of the day. No cope. None. No television, nothing. No fun at all.

This morning, he woke up tantruming. Fired us all. Said everyone was mean to him. I replied that when he didn't behave, he was the meanest one in the room. Meant it. The tantrum? Get up, put your toys back on your bed and get dressed. I put the toys back. Oh, the humanity.

He remembers everything. The clarity of process in this kid really dissuades me from jumping back to the hyperactivity bandwagon. It also makes me wonder how much he remembers prior to adoption, and what exactly happened.

The being cute to get out of it makes me wonder most of all. Did they try to place him prior to us, and it failed because he wouldn't behave? All he had to do was what he's doing now - and voila, back with foster parents. You remember, the ones he cried nine months for and begged us to return him to? Those parents.

The amount of work right now, just trying to get services in - and making sure he stays in a school setting right now? All hands, the cook and any politician I can drag into the fray. Really.

He's still scared. And I'm so angry I can barely think straight.

...

May. 11th, 2011 01:56 pm
kyburg: (facepalm)
Good grief, people.

I mean it - and completely without context because some folks just can't handle context.

But good grief people. Grow the FUCK up.

...

May. 11th, 2011 01:56 pm
kyburg: (facepalm)
Good grief, people.

I mean it - and completely without context because some folks just can't handle context.

But good grief people. Grow the FUCK up.

...

May. 11th, 2011 01:56 pm
kyburg: (facepalm)
Good grief, people.

I mean it - and completely without context because some folks just can't handle context.

But good grief people. Grow the FUCK up.

...

May. 4th, 2011 10:50 am
kyburg: (grief)
Bah.

It's not waiting for a sword to fall on my head. It's waiting for which one of the swords to fall on my head.

Disliking this intensely.

Oh, well. Nobody asked me.

...

May. 4th, 2011 10:50 am
kyburg: (grief)
Bah.

It's not waiting for a sword to fall on my head. It's waiting for which one of the swords to fall on my head.

Disliking this intensely.

Oh, well. Nobody asked me.

...

May. 4th, 2011 10:50 am
kyburg: (grief)
Bah.

It's not waiting for a sword to fall on my head. It's waiting for which one of the swords to fall on my head.

Disliking this intensely.

Oh, well. Nobody asked me.
kyburg: (loser)
Why San Francisco HATES Los Angeles.

Stow, a father of two from Santa Cruz, remained in a medically induced coma at Los Angeles County-USC Medical Center on Tuesday, according to a spokewoman for the hospital.

Police said Stow was one of three Giants fans attacked after Thursday's game by two men dressed in Dodgers clothing. The men kicked and punched the victims, shouting expletives about the Giants as they delivered the blows, according to police. Police said the attack was unprovoked.


Reward, sheeyit. I find these guys, you can have 'em - FOR FREE.
kyburg: (loser)
Why San Francisco HATES Los Angeles.

Stow, a father of two from Santa Cruz, remained in a medically induced coma at Los Angeles County-USC Medical Center on Tuesday, according to a spokewoman for the hospital.

Police said Stow was one of three Giants fans attacked after Thursday's game by two men dressed in Dodgers clothing. The men kicked and punched the victims, shouting expletives about the Giants as they delivered the blows, according to police. Police said the attack was unprovoked.


Reward, sheeyit. I find these guys, you can have 'em - FOR FREE.
kyburg: (loser)
Why San Francisco HATES Los Angeles.

Stow, a father of two from Santa Cruz, remained in a medically induced coma at Los Angeles County-USC Medical Center on Tuesday, according to a spokewoman for the hospital.

Police said Stow was one of three Giants fans attacked after Thursday's game by two men dressed in Dodgers clothing. The men kicked and punched the victims, shouting expletives about the Giants as they delivered the blows, according to police. Police said the attack was unprovoked.


Reward, sheeyit. I find these guys, you can have 'em - FOR FREE.
kyburg: (Default)
 


I've gotten a few swift kicks to the head lately, courtesy of folks I only interact with via Twitter and LJ - [livejournal.com profile] kambriel  remarked on Twitter the other day how passing strange it is to attend an estate sale (and it is), and almost on top of that I heard that a dear creature named Melissa Mia Hall had died alone in her home, too concerned about the cost of seeking care for pain, lest she lose everything she held dear.  Pain from a heart attack that killed her.

Pain like that, they give you morphine for - if you're hospitalized.  Which you should be, all things considered.  You've paid your taxes to fund research into preventing and treating these things, after all.  I could go on - I'm sure you've heard it from more legitimate voices than mine.

I wish I'd known.  I would have demanded she be seen.  Yes, hang it all and risk everything - you better believe it.

This is not a demand that anything you have is forfeit or should be, in the case of basic medical care - far from it.  In a country as rich as ours, as developed and smart and accessible as our medical skills are - keeping anyone who has paid their due from it is criminal.  And gee, that's everyone.

I can remember when hospitals grew their own food.  I remember hospitals before Medicare...and after.  Before Roe v. Wade - and after.  Before paramedic programs - and after.  We can do amazing things today, and talking with my mother who graduated from nurses' training in the mid 40's during WWII only confirms that.

We all deserve the benefit of those years.  Now, put that to the side.

I am here to talk about The Things.

If you are truly concerned about losing everything in case you get Something Expensive - take a look around for a moment and tally the worth you think your Things are worth.  Then cut it by 2/3'rds.  I've had three house fires, I know how this works - what you have is not worth what it cost you to get it.  Always insure for replacement value, not actual - for that reason.

If what you have won't even see you through an ER visit, put losing The Things as a worry out of your head.  Because you won't.  Losing your things won't even put a drop in the bucket, so don't even go there.  You couldn't possibly sell everything anyway.  Some things can help and some assistance programs require you to go to poverty to qualify for them - if you're concerned about needing them, read up on just what that would look like in your world and think about how you would accommodate those standards.  You can't qualify for help if you don't have a place - so assuming you would be getting assistance only by living on the streets isn't realistic.

So you aren't going to lose your home.  You are going to pay your home costs first.  Those dollars don't have any assistance available to them, so they get the money first.  Ditto the food, the lights and anything that will allow you to keep working.  You will negotiate your medical expenses, because at the very bottom?  There is always assistance available  You wouldn't believe it on this side of the Styx, but I tell you from experience.  I once had a heart-to-heart with a social worker when Cliff was in long-term acute care in 1997 - his Medicare lifetime benefits were almost all used up and the hospital accounting department had charged her with informing me that his care was soon to begin being 'uncovered' - so to speak.  After giving her the list of things I had available to take the place of Medicare (at the age of 34, ESRD qualifies you and nobody else will cover you), which included the MRM California has, and the workmans comp case he was part of (with two companies as his employer had been sold twice since he had been terminated disabled).  The two of us talked.  Suddenly, Medicare stopped being an issue - and I walked over to the county offices and applied for Medi-Cal/Medicaid.  With that onboard, the concerns eased.  I paid the rent, the utilities, the insurance policies, bought food and kept working.

You don't want to get into debt, I can completely understand that.  Don't  then - if anyone wanted me to get a workup done that wasn't covered by my insurance plan and I couldn't come up with out of pocket?  I go back to them and tell them to find a way.  You think it's medically necessary?  Fine.  You make it happen.  If you can't?  Well, guess you weren't serious about that then, were you?  If there is a risk of something Bad happening to you because they couldn't get the knowledge they needed about your condition?  The responsibility is now on them - you didn't go AMA on something because you didn't want to lose everything.  I can't guarantee the results on this - but it certainly has shifted the blame away from the patient who is the perfect innocent in these cases.  It also tends to reduce unnecessary medical tests.

Did it work for me?  Hell, yeah.  It's not my fault and I have no compunctions about negotiating a way, even if means shifting the liability responsibility back onto the provider.  They carry malpractice insurance, after all - something you don't have and can't get.  I'm not interested in being a very good girl when the deck is that stacked against me.

I'm not going to tell you it isn't terrifying.  It is.  I know.

Not saying you won't feel like dirt and worse.  I know.

You will be hounded by collection agents - I fear none of them.  BRING IT.

Hope you can eat a lot of ramen and pasta, because you will.  My favorite save-the-money-for-the-drugs diet is still a box of pancake mix, a dozen eggs and a pound of bacon, maybe with syrup.  That at least has some fat in it.  I used to make sourdough bread in the breadmaker.

But you will not lose everything.

It will SUCK.  Harder and longer than anything you ever knew.  

But I tell you to do this.  Why?

Let me go back to The Things.

I grew up in a town where most of the residents had gone there to die.  Seriously - everyone has a grandparent or two in Hemet, or had one, as the case may be.  They shipped them in from the midwest, from Oklahoma and Texas and other points outside of California.  Moved them in, with their Things to keep them company (and little old people tend to hoard, I might add) and left them there.

I grew up surrounded by the Things they left behind.  Estate sales and yard sales and 'antique' stores by the buttload.  'Junking' wasn't something you avoided - it was a national pastime.  I remember the stacks of 78's I used to listen to, right alongside my Beatles 45's.  We used to do crafts with doilies and old linens, costume jewelry and empty jars.  Every drama department had closets full of period clothing from the 30's on up - so full, you couldn't put anything else in there.  Things were donated all the time.  We put them in boxes and stacked them to the ceiling.  I love Depression Glass.  All of us have considerable collections, and only Mom's pieces are younger than she is.  I have rehomed more books than I own and that's saying something.  You should read some of the pieces I kept as touchstones - the racy 'The Maiden Widow' is amazing, something like 1921 or so as the copyright.  Racy in the terms of 'how DOES one become a widow and remain a virgin?  HMMM. CHICKEN OR THE EGG!'

You touch these things and you can almost feel how much they were loved and treasured by someone who just isn't here anymore.  Over and over again.

I would much rather have them, than their Things.

You want to know what happens to your Things, if you aren't here?  Check the video on top.  It's ghoulish.  And yeah, I grew up with that.  Passing strange, indeed.

So - lose The Things.  If it costs you your life if you don't risk that - you lose everything.  I've had three house fires, and if we count the two burglaries?  Guys - you can replace Things.  You can even get the chance to get them back, worst case - if you die trying to preserve your ownership of Things, what have you done?

And like it or not, none of us are going to get out of here with our Things.  Not a single one of us.  Now or later.

Not many faith systems fail to touch upon this, the Buddhist tradition hitting it harder than most of them.  When in doubt, divest.  Dump it, get rid of it, do without it.  No Thing is worth your life.

Keep your outrage about your fears of paying for medical care - they are valid and you aren't smoking crack about it.  Stay angry when you hear about some patient discharged from a hospital bed to a street outside a homeless shelter - it's wrong.  Be as fair and up front as you possibly can when dealing with your health care providers.  Work as hard as you can to cover the costs, that's only meet.

Always do your best.  Your life has an impact on others.

But know this.  Nobody gets my life - or my Things - without one hell of a fight.  I will NOT go quietly, and that's a promise.

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