Wisdom of MY Words

Random Musings & Book Reviews

02 July
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02 July 2017 – Cannabis Oil Journey

I’ve been having so much fun with Juan. He’s been giving me more space than he usually does. He’s also working on the kitchen and he’s doing other things, albeit small ones like bringing up the laundry so I can fold it. He’s been a bit more present. He hears me talk about my feelings. He hears me talk about my needs. My fears. Those are the important feelings, the ones that involve fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of not finishing my memoir before I die. Or the tumour comes back and the skull pain is horrific. It’s the swelling of the brain that creates the pain. I didn’t start hurting bad until January. That was 8 months after I started noticing visual disturbances,

QED

29 June
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29 June 2017 – Cannabis Oil Journey

I don’t know how to apply for Medicaid or Medicare, or apply for help because I am blind. I keep going round and round about this stuff in my head. I am 52. I have the ACA. I can’t afford $35,000 for health and dental insurance for just Juan and I; because that’s what our monthly premium + deductible equals for 2017 WITH the ACA. It’s $29,xxx if Juan doesn’t use his deductible, which is $5700. As I already explained in another blog post, the ACA is not supposed to charge more than 10%b of your income and Juan and I didn’t even earn $40,000 last year. We have been solidly living on our retirement, the Roth IRAs are almost completely liquidated, so we had to take money from our SEP IRAs. The middle Classe, even upper middle, always shouldering the American burden. I am at least 50% blind in one eye and cannot see the website well enough to apply for these benefits myself and Juan can’t seem to sit down and figure it out. Not sure if he finds it worthless, or if he just gets distracted because there is so much to do.

So I’m partially blind in one eye and unable to support myself. I could,

  • Get a lawyer who will then take a PERCENTAGE of my Medicaid benefits.
  • Go into sex work.
  • Force my DH to get a job to support us.

I can ill afford a lawyer siphoning off my benefits to his yacht because his brethren have designed the laws that confuse my husband. Working in the sex industry pays decent, about $40/hr amortized over a two week, 80 hour period. Remember I have studied this stuff because I think what women have to do in order to support themselves was designed by men. White men, no doubt. Although IMHO black men, brown men, yellow men, red men, all men are the problem. I don’t want to be married to someone I’m expected to force into a position because our federal government assumes the husband will support the sick wife. Although I’m not sure who is supposed to take care of the sick wife while he’s satisfying the societal need of going to work, and being gone 55-60 hours per week. I could take an Uber to an appointment, but other than that I am stuck. I am in a position where I cannot get myself anywhere because of my eyesight and I continue to hit things on the left side.

I say things like sex work because what else would I be able to do when the money runs out? I’m not able to get places because I can’t drive. I’m too visually impaired to take the bus. The light rail only runs down Cedar, but I could walk to Cedar and take a bus to MOA. After 30 years in the white collar, intelligence sector, qwho would hire me for a retail position? IDK, would Nordstrom hire me? I couldn’t’t work on my feet all day. The neuropathy from chemo in 2013-2104, most likely Taxol, has made standing for long periods physically painful. Rest assured I won’t end up in sex work, but that’s, again, because I saved my money and Nana left me money that I invested well. I am a talented and good writer and will sell this memoir. Whether that is to a new agent because Roxanne flaked out on me, or direct to the publisher. Hell, I am even willing to spend my money on self publishing because I know my voice is unique and likable. My protagonist is interesting.

I’ve been telling the DH how reading a book a day has changed me. I can barely read fiction anymore. It has to be good fiction, and usually the older stuff if better. Jeff Earl would’ve said that! Juan has been picking up books for me every week it seems. During recovery it was books on tape, and now it’s as many ebooks as I can score, large print, and then regular type. My eyes get tired faster than is what would be considered normal, but everyone keeps telling me that I am still in recovery. Recovery can technically last 2 years. There was that woman who was blind and driven around by her husband for 18 months and 4 years respectively, after repeated strokes and 5 neurosurgeries. Ouch!

06 June
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06 June 2017 – Cannabis Oil Journey

Today was a hard day. Juan Carlo and I have been talking about all manner of things for months now. He’s kinder and he tries to listen better. I try to pause before I “hit a macro, like the F1 key,” as JC says. I make choices every day to not fight with my family members. I read Dr Sax and his belief that Millennials are rude to their parents because of the Digital Age, the Information Epoch, and their social sphere controlling their life. How they feel about themselves. We’ve let children, children I tell you, run us ragged. They want things their way, or hell I just won’t help out around the house.

That’s been true for quite some time Dr Sax, or may I call you Leonard?

I tried to raise my kids with Conscientiousness. Sax states that the single most determining factor of children’s success later in life is self control, or being conscientious. Your IQ doesn’t matter. Your hard won grades don’t matter. How amazingly friendly you are doesn’t matter. Most certainly your 822 Instagram followers will not matter. Sax states that kids who are conscientious don’t become drug addicts, or are more successful than their peers who do not demonstrate self control.

I see myself in that statement.  I’ve wanted nice clothes every since my stint as an I Magnin floor model in Northbrook Court, Chicago, Illinois.