The long and short of it is I've been buried in pain and unconsciousness. When I've been well enough to be awake and about, I've spent that time with my family. My humblest apology to all my readers for this neglect. I value your opinions, thoughts, feelings, and all the care and respect that you've showered me with. I'm sorry that my two blogging projects were put on hold for so long, and I'm looking forward to getting back into them.
I find it vaguely humorous that this dilemma is exactly why I stopped guitar lessons. I loved to teach, but when I had the strength to do anything I did it with my family. This time around has been more about me not being able to do much of anything over the past weeks. I've been getting up, eating, and trying desperately to get back to sleep to avoid my pain. Typically, this process ends when I pass out on the couch from the pain, and come to some time later to get a drink, and then repeat the process.
Not all days have been bad. I had a nice, long day last week, spending time with my best friend, Jhon Baker. That adventure took place on Wednesday and I didn't recover until late yesterday. I was able to go watch my son swim again last week. That half hour ordeal left me worried that I wouldn't be able to make the Wednesday trip...
This is the way my life works; is carefully balanced. I have to select what I want to spend time on, and let go of everything else.
Showing posts with label Control. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Control. Show all posts
Monday, March 28, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
From the Shadows
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
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
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Hurry Up and Wait
Ah, the old axiom of the Marines, 'Hurry up and wait...'
As I had previously shared, I've been told to utilize new medications. I haven't started the new regimen yet because they need to be prescribed by my Primary Care. I won't see him until next Friday. In the mean time I'm expected to continue with current medications.
The real exacerbation is the amount of money wasted on these older drugs.
Rather than simply send me partial fills they've sent me full month supplies of all of my old medications. This means I'll have near three weeks worth of medications to throw away. What a waste.
This week I'm going to try and adhere to a schedule to see if this helps mitigate my symptoms and boost my productivity. My current approach doesn't seem to be helping any, may as well try something different.
So I'm scheduled to awake at 8 in the morning (this morning I actually woke at 7:30), and have scheduled time frames for different works. I hope this gives me the chance to take a little more control back...
We received a letter in the mail, from my attorney, with a few attachments. The first attatchment was a request of acknowledgement in regards to the date, time, and location of the hearing. I had signed and sent in this same form several weeks ago when it was sent to me directly. The second was a request for all my current medications. This information is all in my medical documentation which they are supposed to have a full copy of. The VA even prints a medications page, which lists all medications prescribed over the service members life time. The last attachment was a request for a work history. Now, when I filed the initial claim I did a detailed work history, and for my appeal I did another detailed work history, what the hell do they need a third one for? What a complete waste of time.
The letter itself actually asks me to bring any pay stubs from work I had done during the course of my disability. Amy freaked. She felt this was a mark of ignorance on the attorney's part. I'm starting to wonder myself now. I had explained that it was probably a simple form letter they send to every client. Perhaps I should give them a ring on Monday, if I remember...
The Chicago VA medical center finally got me in for the scan of my back that was requested by the compensation and benefits doctor. My case has been held up for three weeks because of their inability to pick up the phone and give me a call back to schedule the appointment. I finally called the advocate and explained that this was exactly why I have all my treatment done in Milwaukee. I doubt they'll find anything. More than likely I'll get a phone call from the doctor asking me what is in my back, despite the fact we explained to him that I had an implant. I'll let you all know if that's the case so we can all enjoy a good laugh.
Thank you all for taking the time to read my thoughts,
K.M. Shear
As I had previously shared, I've been told to utilize new medications. I haven't started the new regimen yet because they need to be prescribed by my Primary Care. I won't see him until next Friday. In the mean time I'm expected to continue with current medications.
The real exacerbation is the amount of money wasted on these older drugs.
Rather than simply send me partial fills they've sent me full month supplies of all of my old medications. This means I'll have near three weeks worth of medications to throw away. What a waste.
This week I'm going to try and adhere to a schedule to see if this helps mitigate my symptoms and boost my productivity. My current approach doesn't seem to be helping any, may as well try something different.
So I'm scheduled to awake at 8 in the morning (this morning I actually woke at 7:30), and have scheduled time frames for different works. I hope this gives me the chance to take a little more control back...
We received a letter in the mail, from my attorney, with a few attachments. The first attatchment was a request of acknowledgement in regards to the date, time, and location of the hearing. I had signed and sent in this same form several weeks ago when it was sent to me directly. The second was a request for all my current medications. This information is all in my medical documentation which they are supposed to have a full copy of. The VA even prints a medications page, which lists all medications prescribed over the service members life time. The last attachment was a request for a work history. Now, when I filed the initial claim I did a detailed work history, and for my appeal I did another detailed work history, what the hell do they need a third one for? What a complete waste of time.
The letter itself actually asks me to bring any pay stubs from work I had done during the course of my disability. Amy freaked. She felt this was a mark of ignorance on the attorney's part. I'm starting to wonder myself now. I had explained that it was probably a simple form letter they send to every client. Perhaps I should give them a ring on Monday, if I remember...
The Chicago VA medical center finally got me in for the scan of my back that was requested by the compensation and benefits doctor. My case has been held up for three weeks because of their inability to pick up the phone and give me a call back to schedule the appointment. I finally called the advocate and explained that this was exactly why I have all my treatment done in Milwaukee. I doubt they'll find anything. More than likely I'll get a phone call from the doctor asking me what is in my back, despite the fact we explained to him that I had an implant. I'll let you all know if that's the case so we can all enjoy a good laugh.
Thank you all for taking the time to read my thoughts,
K.M. Shear
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Spills and Misplaced Thrills
I'm having a rough day today...
Currently, I have a room that is set up to be my safe haven. It was put together to offer me a certain level of comfort while affording me the maximum opportunity to work on my writing, art, and music. During the evening hours I enjoy hosting my wife and child in the room. We watch television, play video games, chat, etc. But it seems as if my safe haven is being left in greater disarray with each morning I wake. Some mornings are better than others, and I'm not too terribly upset about it. I understand that my wife comes home from long days in the office and just wants to unwind, and let's face it, picking up after a 3 year old is not relaxing.
My wife and I have already had a long discussion about the topic, and she was very understanding. Amy never ceases to amaze me in her ability to hear what I'm saying.
So, back to my bad day...
This morning my little monster woke up early and joined me in my room to watch children's shows. All morning he was trying to poke my feat, and, on more than one occasion, he caused me a great deal of pain. This was followed up by my mother's desire to protect her investment in her window trimming.
Throughout the evening hours a large amount of moisture collects at the base of the windows and causes warping and mold growth on the wood trimming. Every morning she comes in to wipe down the trimming and, some days, to remove the trimming to clean. Today, while she was going through her routine, she moved a can of soda onto the swivel portion of my desk. With all the drugs I'm on, and my lack of solid sleep, I tilted the desktop and poured soda all over my keyboard, trackpad, floor, etc. I was devastated.
At some point my son had decided that he wanted to play one of his games which he could not locate. I had assumed that he had moved it somewhere and couldn't remember where he had placed it. I found the racing game along the chair my wife likes to sit in while she's immersed in her social networking. She had set it on her table and somehow it fell off.
So my morning hours have been invested in cleaning, picking up left overs from last night, and walking round the house trying to find a copy of "Sonic All-Stars Racing". I'm exhausted, in a grand amount of pain, and in a funk.
For those of you reading who have a loved one that suffers with chronic pain or RSD, please realize that the more ordered their environment is, the less pain they have to suffer, and the more productive they can be.
On another note; I received a letter from the judge that will be overseeing my social security hearing. It was addressed to the apartment we had been evicted from. I had informed my attorney of the eviction on multiple occasions, and had given them the new address, but it seems that they didn't take the time to inform the department of human services... I suppose I'll have to call them at some point today.
I'm sure that my VA claim is being held up because the North Chicago radiology department hasn't called me back to set up the appointment. I think I'll be talking sternly to them soon here...
Sorry this entry has been a bit of a downer, but I think the messages it sends had to be written out.
Thank you all for taking the time to read,
K.M. Shear
Currently, I have a room that is set up to be my safe haven. It was put together to offer me a certain level of comfort while affording me the maximum opportunity to work on my writing, art, and music. During the evening hours I enjoy hosting my wife and child in the room. We watch television, play video games, chat, etc. But it seems as if my safe haven is being left in greater disarray with each morning I wake. Some mornings are better than others, and I'm not too terribly upset about it. I understand that my wife comes home from long days in the office and just wants to unwind, and let's face it, picking up after a 3 year old is not relaxing.
My wife and I have already had a long discussion about the topic, and she was very understanding. Amy never ceases to amaze me in her ability to hear what I'm saying.
So, back to my bad day...
This morning my little monster woke up early and joined me in my room to watch children's shows. All morning he was trying to poke my feat, and, on more than one occasion, he caused me a great deal of pain. This was followed up by my mother's desire to protect her investment in her window trimming.
Throughout the evening hours a large amount of moisture collects at the base of the windows and causes warping and mold growth on the wood trimming. Every morning she comes in to wipe down the trimming and, some days, to remove the trimming to clean. Today, while she was going through her routine, she moved a can of soda onto the swivel portion of my desk. With all the drugs I'm on, and my lack of solid sleep, I tilted the desktop and poured soda all over my keyboard, trackpad, floor, etc. I was devastated.
At some point my son had decided that he wanted to play one of his games which he could not locate. I had assumed that he had moved it somewhere and couldn't remember where he had placed it. I found the racing game along the chair my wife likes to sit in while she's immersed in her social networking. She had set it on her table and somehow it fell off.
So my morning hours have been invested in cleaning, picking up left overs from last night, and walking round the house trying to find a copy of "Sonic All-Stars Racing". I'm exhausted, in a grand amount of pain, and in a funk.
For those of you reading who have a loved one that suffers with chronic pain or RSD, please realize that the more ordered their environment is, the less pain they have to suffer, and the more productive they can be.
On another note; I received a letter from the judge that will be overseeing my social security hearing. It was addressed to the apartment we had been evicted from. I had informed my attorney of the eviction on multiple occasions, and had given them the new address, but it seems that they didn't take the time to inform the department of human services... I suppose I'll have to call them at some point today.
I'm sure that my VA claim is being held up because the North Chicago radiology department hasn't called me back to set up the appointment. I think I'll be talking sternly to them soon here...
Sorry this entry has been a bit of a downer, but I think the messages it sends had to be written out.
Thank you all for taking the time to read,
K.M. Shear
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
In A Puddle
Over the weekend my family celebrated my son's third birthday. It was a wonderful experience watching the children play and eat. We went to the Rain Forrest Cafe in a nearby mall. We rented a wheel chair for me so that I could visit some of the stores and get around easily. The trip was overly painful and exhaustive, but worth every minute of suffering.
I was very pleased with how quickly I recovered, and in my excitement of feeling mildly 'ok' I asked my mother to take my son and I to the bookstore yesterday. During the adventure my son misplaced his hat, and my mother went to look for it while Lincoln and I browsed the kids area.
I turned round and Lincoln was gone. He had run off to play in the toy area. The poor child looked up at me and said, "I peed." His eyes were pleading, and his little hands were stretched out as if he was asking me to pick him up and take him away to a safe place. All I could do was stand there and hold his hand while we waited for his grandmother to come and help get him cleaned up. I felt I had failed as a parent because of my disability.
Today the pain is very severe. The combination of the trip to the mall, and the trip to the bookstore, has left me reeling in agony. Everything burns on my right side, and all I can think to do is hope I pass out sooner, rather than later, and pray when I come to the pain has subsided. I'm not at a point were I may have to go to the hospital, but if the pain continues to grow I may end up there at some point. Time will tell I suppose.
I'm up to the full dose of the PTSD medication I was prescribed, and I'm not sure it's working. I'm still having nightmares, but I'm waking up in the midsts of them very startled. If, in my dream, I'm dropping something, I awake grasping for it. The sudden jerks at the time of awakening have caused pain levels to be aggravated due to accidental bumps of the limbs during the thrashing about. I'm also still very jumpy and sensitive to loud noises.
When anything gets loud I start to loose my patience, grind my teeth, and if it's sudden enough I find myself curling away to protect the parts of my body that aren't afflicted with RSD. I have no control over these reactions, and, believe me, I've made several attempts to minimize the behavior with no success.
Thank you all for taking the time to read,
K.M. Shear
I was very pleased with how quickly I recovered, and in my excitement of feeling mildly 'ok' I asked my mother to take my son and I to the bookstore yesterday. During the adventure my son misplaced his hat, and my mother went to look for it while Lincoln and I browsed the kids area.
I turned round and Lincoln was gone. He had run off to play in the toy area. The poor child looked up at me and said, "I peed." His eyes were pleading, and his little hands were stretched out as if he was asking me to pick him up and take him away to a safe place. All I could do was stand there and hold his hand while we waited for his grandmother to come and help get him cleaned up. I felt I had failed as a parent because of my disability.
Today the pain is very severe. The combination of the trip to the mall, and the trip to the bookstore, has left me reeling in agony. Everything burns on my right side, and all I can think to do is hope I pass out sooner, rather than later, and pray when I come to the pain has subsided. I'm not at a point were I may have to go to the hospital, but if the pain continues to grow I may end up there at some point. Time will tell I suppose.
I'm up to the full dose of the PTSD medication I was prescribed, and I'm not sure it's working. I'm still having nightmares, but I'm waking up in the midsts of them very startled. If, in my dream, I'm dropping something, I awake grasping for it. The sudden jerks at the time of awakening have caused pain levels to be aggravated due to accidental bumps of the limbs during the thrashing about. I'm also still very jumpy and sensitive to loud noises.
When anything gets loud I start to loose my patience, grind my teeth, and if it's sudden enough I find myself curling away to protect the parts of my body that aren't afflicted with RSD. I have no control over these reactions, and, believe me, I've made several attempts to minimize the behavior with no success.
Thank you all for taking the time to read,
K.M. Shear
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
A Rock in the Pond
When injustices struck at my family and I, rage was all I could muster. I yelled, fumed, and worked myself into more pain than I needed. Now I'm no longer raging, but directing my energies to bringing positive change.
A few months ago I tossed a small rock into a big pond. Yesterday, and today, I finally saw the ripples the rock caused. I was privileged to speak, personally, with State Senator Althoff. I was able to share my proposed changes with her. As of now it looks as if she'll be working on putting together Illinois representatives in an attempt to fix the problems that have plagued my life. Together, with Congressman Manzullo, Senator Durbin, and others, I believe we'll actually be able to put something together to be presented and possibly passed into law! It may be wishful thinking, but dreams are what built this nation, and dreams will change it.
On a side note... It's already the second day of the month and I haven't written a single word for my proposed novel. I should really find a method to discipline myself.
Today, while out on a brief trip with my family, a woman looked me in the eyes and said "Thank you." I was wearing my U.S.M.C. sweatshirt, and I was speechless. All I could do was nod to her. I hope she understood...
A few months ago I tossed a small rock into a big pond. Yesterday, and today, I finally saw the ripples the rock caused. I was privileged to speak, personally, with State Senator Althoff. I was able to share my proposed changes with her. As of now it looks as if she'll be working on putting together Illinois representatives in an attempt to fix the problems that have plagued my life. Together, with Congressman Manzullo, Senator Durbin, and others, I believe we'll actually be able to put something together to be presented and possibly passed into law! It may be wishful thinking, but dreams are what built this nation, and dreams will change it.
On a side note... It's already the second day of the month and I haven't written a single word for my proposed novel. I should really find a method to discipline myself.
Today, while out on a brief trip with my family, a woman looked me in the eyes and said "Thank you." I was wearing my U.S.M.C. sweatshirt, and I was speechless. All I could do was nod to her. I hope she understood...
Friday, October 8, 2010
From Mayors to Kings
I've spent the last 2 hours on the phone talking to representatives out of 5 different government offices. Either they gave me a new number to call, or they simply turned me away.
The Crystal Lake Mayor's office didn't want to discuss anything they could do, and before I had finished telling them the extent of the situation they fed me two phone numbers for 'local' senators. Both numbers went straight to voicemail and I haven't received a return call yet.
I tried to get through to the VA representative at the office of employment. The number has been busy for the last two hours.
Next I tried to reach the mayor. The individual there claimed that he would 'take down my support/complaint' to forward to the mayor. He didn't take my name of phone number, so I'm assuming this will be lumped in with all of the other legitimate complaints that will be discarded and ignored. After trying to make me feel like he was actually taking my situation seriously he pawned me off on to their VA liaison who wasn't in his office. His voicemail didn't work and I have no means of calling him direct, though I'm not sure why I would. If he's a member of the VA he's not going to side with me over his employer.
I tried to contact the two local senators again. Still straight to voicemail. Employment office is still busy.
Next I contacted Senator Dick Durbin where I was asked to leave a message. Still no call back from there, although I expect to hear back simply based on the level of concern I heard in the voice of the person I was talking to. That individual also told me he would be sending an email to the contact. I have some high hopes about this one, but I'm sure they're going to be dashed somehow.
Next I contacted my attorney who just called me back. They weren't able to discuss my VA case without having the documentation in hand. I agree that's for the best. So now I'm on the hunt for some form of transportation to get this paperwork faxed.
Things are tough when you can't drive...
In all, from mayors to kings, no entity that I've contacted has any power over the agencies involved...
The Crystal Lake Mayor's office didn't want to discuss anything they could do, and before I had finished telling them the extent of the situation they fed me two phone numbers for 'local' senators. Both numbers went straight to voicemail and I haven't received a return call yet.
I tried to get through to the VA representative at the office of employment. The number has been busy for the last two hours.
Next I tried to reach the mayor. The individual there claimed that he would 'take down my support/complaint' to forward to the mayor. He didn't take my name of phone number, so I'm assuming this will be lumped in with all of the other legitimate complaints that will be discarded and ignored. After trying to make me feel like he was actually taking my situation seriously he pawned me off on to their VA liaison who wasn't in his office. His voicemail didn't work and I have no means of calling him direct, though I'm not sure why I would. If he's a member of the VA he's not going to side with me over his employer.
I tried to contact the two local senators again. Still straight to voicemail. Employment office is still busy.
Next I contacted Senator Dick Durbin where I was asked to leave a message. Still no call back from there, although I expect to hear back simply based on the level of concern I heard in the voice of the person I was talking to. That individual also told me he would be sending an email to the contact. I have some high hopes about this one, but I'm sure they're going to be dashed somehow.
Next I contacted my attorney who just called me back. They weren't able to discuss my VA case without having the documentation in hand. I agree that's for the best. So now I'm on the hunt for some form of transportation to get this paperwork faxed.
Things are tough when you can't drive...
In all, from mayors to kings, no entity that I've contacted has any power over the agencies involved...
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