This post will more than likely be dark, disturbing, and contain profanity. I will not be upset if any of my readers stop reading here...
I've been stripped of my ability to drive, go for a walk, pour a glass of milk or water, shower daily, shave daily, fix my own meals, and clean my area of living. This week I've been stripped of the desire to do anything. No postings, just a few lines here and there in scattered journals, my personal journal left empty for too long. And now I'm finding myself angry. I have no where to aim my venom, and have been lashing out in every direction. I simply want to yell 'FUCK' into the wind and let it find the ears of everyone.
Three days have passed since I made an inquiry of the VFW. They still haven't called me back. In a perfect world those agencies that render the hopeless veteran homeless should be homeless as well. I'm willing to bet that they'd all work a bit faster, act in a more diligent way, if they found their shelter missing every time they played these games. For as much drag time that they have, you'd think they were disabled too. Could you imagine if they had to work while suffering with pain that blinds; renders the victim feeble minded. We showed Illinois the governments bare ass, caught them with their pants down, and there still is little progress made.
Perhaps, if the nation (or the state) had to sacrifice like our service members, they'd have a different perspective. Perhaps if they all had to spend just a few days crippled and in pain, they'd never let a transgression of this magnitude to go on.
I still haven't heard from my mayor. He didn't have anyone running against him... again... Where does a non-caring windbag have a secure job where he doesn't have to do anything? Crystal Lake, Illinois. I've often spent time thinking about causing him as much pain as I suffer with and watch him. I think I'd actually laugh. I honestly don't think the bastard has had one day of adversity in his whole life.
I've been lectured about respect, and I live in a place where I don't feel that I'm offered any. My door is constantly opened and shut while I rest, my work is interrupted when I'm actually able to accomplish anything, my belongings and my safe haven are often trashed. Where is the respect? Today I rose to requirements stemmed from individuals simply not wanting to follow simple directions, and now I can't rest because there's voices in my room (yes, they belong to people) that are annoying. I have to ask for permission to see my daughter, but no one asks me my permission to have their friends over. They simply don't care what condition I'm in, what I suffer with. The rules only apply to myself, my wife, and my child. They're one-sided and ignored when they don't fit the life style of those who are housing us.
Now most people will be up and arms at this statement. I can hear the comments already. "It's their house, and they can do that," "They don't have to follow rules if they're in place for only you," etc.
Perhaps the voices of opposition are right.
So with no regard to me, life moves on in whatever way it wants here. It seems like those who have given us shelter don't feel like they need to bother, like I don't need to be. That's it...
I feel like I don't need to exist; as if there is no regard to me and my situation. I feel like the government has swept me into a corner, and my providers of shelter have completely disregarded what I go through. I feel like a small fleck of dirt; tired, and drawn thin, from the constant sweeping into corners. I find my breath hard coming, and the pressures of trying to demonstrate my existence slowly compressing me into nothingness.
I'm tired, of just about everything......
FUCK
Showing posts with label Help. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Help. Show all posts
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Page Changes, Tiredness
For those of you who haven't noticed, I've added a couple new pages to my blog. You can reach them at the top of the page. The first one is a treatment log, and the second one is images, articles, and videos that directly relate to being a veteran with RSD. I have also changed one of my links to Rebecca's Whims. I felt inclined to add this link because she makes herbal pillows that really do help with relaxation and muscle fatigue, things I know others with RSD and chronic pain are very familiar with. That's about it for page updates. Oh, and I've been hearing many people comment that there's no place to comment on my page. Please make sure you're in the blog entry by clicking its title and I assure you there will be a place to comment.
The weekend was a busy one, and I've been paying for it dearly over the last couple days. I've been in a bit of a daze and fading in and out of reality. I'm sure this would be a fun thing if I was on vacation and wanted to catch up on sleep, but it's simply what life is now when I attempt to exert myself. Today has been a bit of a recovery day as well, but I think the worst is over and I'm ready to sit down and write some new poems and short stories, as well as work on other projects I have going. Please follow the link to the right to Shear's Shorts to read some of my work and listen to my music if you have the time and inclination to do so.
Sorry this is such a brief entry, but I assure you there will be plenty to write about over the next few weeks with my Social Security trial coming up on the 3rd of March, and my medical exams having been completed for the Veteran's Benefits claim.
Thanks for stopping by,
K.M. Shear
Monday, January 3, 2011
Friday, December 24, 2010
Medical Appointments, Breakfast Reservations, and God's Angels
Just six hours till Christmas. I honestly didn't think we'd have one this year, but several groups donated so much that we've been able to have a nice meal and Santa will show up for Lincoln. This year God's angels were hard at work in our lives, and I hope that next year I will be able to be one of those angels.
This morning we spent time with some of my old friends from school. We had a nice, simple breakfast at Around The Clock restaurant, and I'm paying the price for my good time. It was worth every minute of pain though. It seems so odd to see people I used to share classes with sitting with their own children, and it makes my heart skip a beat when I realize how amazing those people will be as parents. We may have been one of the last generations that lived without the bombardment of the digital world, and I know that we'll succeed in creating a pocket of individuals who appreciate hard work and earning.
Yesterday I made an appointment to see a PTSD doctor about my night terrors. As I had commented on one of my previous threads, last night's was the worst. I kept 'waking up', but not really waking up. It happened seven times before I finally found myself in the real world, and I've spent most of the day half expecting to wake up after having something terrible happen to my right leg. Maybe tonight I'll not have them, more likely I will.
My son and wife are both ill. Nothing serious, just head colds, but enough to keep us from being able to spend time with my mother and step-father because of his recent surgery. It's best that we not get him ill because we love him and want him to stick around for quite a while longer. So, it's just been us for the day, and it's been wonderful. Lincoln is playing a game on the PS3, and trying to goad Amy into playing too. They fight so much when they play together, and all I can do is chuckle. Someday they'll learn to work together... Someday...
God blessed me this year with some of the most amazing people. Jhon Baker, an amazing poet and philosopher has given me so much. Noah Kaplowitz who has helped me further my causes and spent much time on corroborative works. I think the three of us have leaned on each other so equally that it's kept us on our feet. Scott Little, who's been giving me art lessons and spending time with me despite the fact he really hasn't had much of it. Lars Jensen who's always been there for me, despite the ocean between us (you're going to get some English readers here, so you better start posting in English for us).
My wife, Amy, who's put up with, and taken on, so much that I don't think I'd have survived RSD without her. My mother; who brought me into this world and taught me to love and laugh, rage and cry. Without her my son wouldn't be who he is today, and I wouldn't have been strong enough to make it through all my pain. My father, Mike Shear, who spent so many hours driving from Iowa to here just to spend a few days at a time helping me when I had no one else. I learned how to speak and succeed from my father, and how to laugh when things aren't at their best. My stepfather Jeff, from whom I've learned to 'tell it like it is' and accept the fact that there's a lot of dumb asses out there. My grandfather who I miss dearly. He taught me how to be at peace in the world when we would go fishing or hunting together. Firing a weapon still centers and empowers me to this day. My grandmother, who taught me dedication to family and kept us from going under throughout the year. My nephew Alex, who's gamed with me even when I've been blinded by pain and been useless. I'll be on line again soon my friend. And Corey Leese and the Divine Knights, Corey's stuck by me through thick and thin, and helped me find a group of fantastic new teammates to game with.
Illinois Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy Syndrome Association who's meetings have helped me feel like I'm still part of the world, and not alone in my struggles. Congressman Manzullo's office, and Vera Moore of the VFW have been extremely helpful in my claims. We may not have succeeded, but they still deserve recognition for all of their hard work and diligence. McHenry County Marine Corps League, my brothers and sisters who have offered so much support, and given my son a Christmas, both on their own and through others who donated.
I know it's asking a lot to have you all check out all these links, but these people deserve it. They've given so much of themselves for me and my family, so please take the time to check them all out. And to those of you who I haven't personally mentioned, leave a comment so I can include you in this 'thank you' post.
Despite all the pain, and our eviction in seven days, I feel nothing but peace; happiness. Blessed.
With all the gratitude I can muster, Happy Holidays,
Kev
This morning we spent time with some of my old friends from school. We had a nice, simple breakfast at Around The Clock restaurant, and I'm paying the price for my good time. It was worth every minute of pain though. It seems so odd to see people I used to share classes with sitting with their own children, and it makes my heart skip a beat when I realize how amazing those people will be as parents. We may have been one of the last generations that lived without the bombardment of the digital world, and I know that we'll succeed in creating a pocket of individuals who appreciate hard work and earning.
Yesterday I made an appointment to see a PTSD doctor about my night terrors. As I had commented on one of my previous threads, last night's was the worst. I kept 'waking up', but not really waking up. It happened seven times before I finally found myself in the real world, and I've spent most of the day half expecting to wake up after having something terrible happen to my right leg. Maybe tonight I'll not have them, more likely I will.
My son and wife are both ill. Nothing serious, just head colds, but enough to keep us from being able to spend time with my mother and step-father because of his recent surgery. It's best that we not get him ill because we love him and want him to stick around for quite a while longer. So, it's just been us for the day, and it's been wonderful. Lincoln is playing a game on the PS3, and trying to goad Amy into playing too. They fight so much when they play together, and all I can do is chuckle. Someday they'll learn to work together... Someday...
God blessed me this year with some of the most amazing people. Jhon Baker, an amazing poet and philosopher has given me so much. Noah Kaplowitz who has helped me further my causes and spent much time on corroborative works. I think the three of us have leaned on each other so equally that it's kept us on our feet. Scott Little, who's been giving me art lessons and spending time with me despite the fact he really hasn't had much of it. Lars Jensen who's always been there for me, despite the ocean between us (you're going to get some English readers here, so you better start posting in English for us).
My wife, Amy, who's put up with, and taken on, so much that I don't think I'd have survived RSD without her. My mother; who brought me into this world and taught me to love and laugh, rage and cry. Without her my son wouldn't be who he is today, and I wouldn't have been strong enough to make it through all my pain. My father, Mike Shear, who spent so many hours driving from Iowa to here just to spend a few days at a time helping me when I had no one else. I learned how to speak and succeed from my father, and how to laugh when things aren't at their best. My stepfather Jeff, from whom I've learned to 'tell it like it is' and accept the fact that there's a lot of dumb asses out there. My grandfather who I miss dearly. He taught me how to be at peace in the world when we would go fishing or hunting together. Firing a weapon still centers and empowers me to this day. My grandmother, who taught me dedication to family and kept us from going under throughout the year. My nephew Alex, who's gamed with me even when I've been blinded by pain and been useless. I'll be on line again soon my friend. And Corey Leese and the Divine Knights, Corey's stuck by me through thick and thin, and helped me find a group of fantastic new teammates to game with.
Illinois Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy Syndrome Association who's meetings have helped me feel like I'm still part of the world, and not alone in my struggles. Congressman Manzullo's office, and Vera Moore of the VFW have been extremely helpful in my claims. We may not have succeeded, but they still deserve recognition for all of their hard work and diligence. McHenry County Marine Corps League, my brothers and sisters who have offered so much support, and given my son a Christmas, both on their own and through others who donated.
I know it's asking a lot to have you all check out all these links, but these people deserve it. They've given so much of themselves for me and my family, so please take the time to check them all out. And to those of you who I haven't personally mentioned, leave a comment so I can include you in this 'thank you' post.
Despite all the pain, and our eviction in seven days, I feel nothing but peace; happiness. Blessed.
With all the gratitude I can muster, Happy Holidays,
Kev
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Good News, Bad News
Monday afternoon, and the reporter and photographer came through my front door. Questions where asked over the camera's clicks; answered, at times, through clenched teeth. In all the story was told, and I spent the night in pain. When they left they wanted to get some video, so they scheduled to come back on Tuesday.
Tuesday morning, bad pain, and the photographer walked through the door. She set up, filmed, asked questions. Pain consumed, and it was time to go to the ER. That poor photographer, she looked so worried, but she was getting the real story. She was capturing, on film, what real pain looks like. RSD is the worst pain in the world, worse than cancer or natural child birth, and she was right in the middle of it.
One of the few things I remember is the look of terror on her face.
I called my mother, begged her to hurry, to take me to the hospital.
Time passed. The reporter took photographs, filmed. I gasped for breath and struggled to keep my body from tightening against the pain; fought to stay conscious and present while my mind was trying to shut down from overload. Then I was in the car and rushing for the ER.
Vomited in my mouth, swallowed, and blacked out twice on the way. Prayers to God to give me strength; get me through one more time. Arrival, and a wait for someone to come with a gurney or wheelchair to get me inside.
They're rough getting me out of the car. Big burly police man. He embraces me, keeps me from falling to the ground, and it hurts more than he knows; could understand. Vitals where checked, and then I was rushed into a large scary room. 'Oh God, why this room,' I thought. Crash cart, machines that ping, all things medical surrounded me. My vitals must have been extreme to have put me in that room. I.V. run, drugs promised, and then I laid in wait, in pain, in prayer. Minutes ticked by like hours.
The doctor arrives, asks what is usually done for me. The nurse arrives and pumps the drugs into my system; first a needle for nausea, then a needle for pain, and lastly a needle to calm. Minutes pass, and the pain is still pretty severe, so she hits me again with another dose of pain killers.
In all they dosed me with enough dalauted and Valium to knock over a rhino, and I got off the gurney and into the wheelchair on my own. Then I wheeled myself to the exit.
The reporters where there for a lot of the time. They asked questions, and took photos. In all, the two women working on my story had been some of the most compassionate and endearing individuals I've met. Today I will send them a letter or email with all of the gratitude I can muster.
Tuesday morning, bad pain, and the photographer walked through the door. She set up, filmed, asked questions. Pain consumed, and it was time to go to the ER. That poor photographer, she looked so worried, but she was getting the real story. She was capturing, on film, what real pain looks like. RSD is the worst pain in the world, worse than cancer or natural child birth, and she was right in the middle of it.
One of the few things I remember is the look of terror on her face.
I called my mother, begged her to hurry, to take me to the hospital.
Time passed. The reporter took photographs, filmed. I gasped for breath and struggled to keep my body from tightening against the pain; fought to stay conscious and present while my mind was trying to shut down from overload. Then I was in the car and rushing for the ER.
Vomited in my mouth, swallowed, and blacked out twice on the way. Prayers to God to give me strength; get me through one more time. Arrival, and a wait for someone to come with a gurney or wheelchair to get me inside.
They're rough getting me out of the car. Big burly police man. He embraces me, keeps me from falling to the ground, and it hurts more than he knows; could understand. Vitals where checked, and then I was rushed into a large scary room. 'Oh God, why this room,' I thought. Crash cart, machines that ping, all things medical surrounded me. My vitals must have been extreme to have put me in that room. I.V. run, drugs promised, and then I laid in wait, in pain, in prayer. Minutes ticked by like hours.
The doctor arrives, asks what is usually done for me. The nurse arrives and pumps the drugs into my system; first a needle for nausea, then a needle for pain, and lastly a needle to calm. Minutes pass, and the pain is still pretty severe, so she hits me again with another dose of pain killers.
In all they dosed me with enough dalauted and Valium to knock over a rhino, and I got off the gurney and into the wheelchair on my own. Then I wheeled myself to the exit.
The reporters where there for a lot of the time. They asked questions, and took photos. In all, the two women working on my story had been some of the most compassionate and endearing individuals I've met. Today I will send them a letter or email with all of the gratitude I can muster.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Friends
I wanted to take a minute to publicly thank two very good friends. Our neighbors Chris and Jessie.
Jessie is giving me a ride to Jhon Baker's open house this Saturday in celebration of his new book, and has spent several hours helping Amy and I watch our son Lincoln. Without her there would have been several instances that could have ended badly because I wouldn't have been able to care for my two year old.
Chris has literally carried me to our van when I was going into shock. He's always there for me when I need someone to talk to, and has spent countless hours playing online video games with me while I work through my pain.
Of all the horrid things that have gone down over the last year, these two have been invaluable blessings.
I only hope that one day I'll be able to return the favors.
Jessie is giving me a ride to Jhon Baker's open house this Saturday in celebration of his new book, and has spent several hours helping Amy and I watch our son Lincoln. Without her there would have been several instances that could have ended badly because I wouldn't have been able to care for my two year old.
Chris has literally carried me to our van when I was going into shock. He's always there for me when I need someone to talk to, and has spent countless hours playing online video games with me while I work through my pain.
Of all the horrid things that have gone down over the last year, these two have been invaluable blessings.
I only hope that one day I'll be able to return the favors.
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