Far more than one life…

They didn’t think it could be done. That I could live.

They tried, though. Gods, how they tried – but after the drugs that didn’t help, all the lotions & prescriptions & visits from some of the Nations best specialists, all there was left was changing the dressings, tons of morphine, and the sadness & frustration & saw behind their smiles.


– Then, we took over. Me – and all of you. Not willing to die, having so much more I dreamed of doing, I decided to fight – but knew there was no way I could do it alone. I found friends who believed in me, who kept me fighting even during the numerous times I wanted to give up.
When I was up to my nostrils sinking in the thickness of the swamp, you threw me a rope – and we all pulled as hard as we could.

The financial support you sent so I could afford the herbs & nutritious foods I needed was always SO much more than that to me – far more than just money. It was a gift of love, of belief that I *could* win, and every single contribution I have received from that time has never failed to fill my heart & renew my spirit. Every single gift was another strong pull on the rope to help release me from the pit that, without you, I would have died in by now.


I can never thank you enough for what you have done, and gods, we have come SO incredibly close to pulling me free! The fight now isn’t to pull me through the molasses-thick sludge of the swamp, but with a few more pulls finally lift me on to solid land – finally *curing* the cirrhosis – and with it, all of the symptoms I’ve been fighting from pulling me back down…

But the fight has been going on a long time. I’ve been pulling like hell, as you have – and we’re both tired, I know… but it seems as if nearly everyone who was helping to pull decided that it wasn’t worth the effort, dropped the rope, and walked away – except for a couple people, and of course, myself.

I’ve fought like fucking hell, every single day for six years & one month to get this far – and as exhausted as I am, solid land and *health* – and finally after all this time being able to live a nearly normal (for me) life again is within reach, and closer than it has EVER been – but the fight is still as hard as it was in the beginning, and I still need your support – otherwise all the effort we have put in will have been for nothing.
WE CAN STILL WIN, and it’s SO incredibly close – but I still need you.
So again, I plead with you: pick up the rope, and pull for me.

won’t let go. I can’t. It’s my health and my LIFE that I am fighting for

Thank you so VERY much for all you have done so far – we’ve done what the Doctors didn’t believe was possible already by cheating death – so let’s show them how strong we REALLY are, and reverse my cirrhosis. When we do – then I can show others how to do the same, and save their lives.

Paypal: ksea@culturefluxmagazine.com
PLEASE.
Love,
~ Casey

making a difference

Monday. 6:43am, my eyes slowly open & let the small amount of light in my apartment in. Stretch, take a mental note making sure my legs are still there, and if they are how adventurous they may feel after having the whole night off.
They’re there, seem okay but still swollen, we’ll check out the standing thing in a minute – and then walking. The first 10 or 20 steps are always the hardest as the stiffness & pain reluctantly subsides, but this morning there is some extra motivation:
With immense gratitude to Thad & Geri, there is a bag of deep, dark, rich PEET’S COFFEE just about 20 steps away (normally around 5, but these mornings the first steps are more along the lines of heel to toe shuffles, a la old man get off my lawn & where’s my gaddamn Jello).

I put the water on, coffee in the press, bring out my favorite over-sized ceramic mug that has stuck with me & somehow survived our travels & turmoil over roughly the past 17 years.
If I were a coffee mug, I would be this one.

Coffee ready, the aroma already making me smile in anticipation, I take the first sip of *real* coffee I’ve had in over a month.

Ahhhhh….. Sweet elixir of life.

It’s a busy day ahead. Two Dr. appointments, more work on the apartment, the intention to do ALL THE LAUNDRY IN THE WORLD.

With coffee & smokeytreat I prepare for a much needed body cleansing – a bath to loosen & remove dead flesh on legs & feet (I’m molting) and then shower to strip the sgragglyhair on my face that will never, ever let me be a hipster, and wash the hell out of my body – so very long overdue.

First however, I need to remove the dressing. No problem – thankfully I’ve been doing my own wound care for years, when necessary.
There’s a hole in my foot still, and as I pull off the main bandage I see the end of the packing fuse. I didn’t dress it last time, so curious as to how deep the hole is – how much is in there.
I grab the end with the tweezers, and gently start pulling. And pulling. and pulling.

Whoa, cool! I have a friggin’ *stash* in my foot!

….. I need to stop for a while here. I’ve been on my legs all day, and they’re not really digging it too much – but they need the work as well.
Oh, yeah – and when I got back from the Dr., I walked into the foyer of my building and decided something – if I’m going to move forward in the healing, strengthen my atrophied muscles – I need to do make it happen… so with the elevator beckoning, the sirens singing their song for the easy way up, I was able to break free from their seduction and move towards a higher purpose – the STAIRS.

Including the entrance, 49 of ’em, with the bare minimum of help from the hand rail.
I didn’t need to do this, but I did – because I fucking rock, and I made those stairs my bitches!
(Even though it was very slowly, they’re still mah bitches, yo.)

Now I REALLY need to shut the hell up & get my legs on a horizontal plane.

Love love love the ALLS of you, and thank you for all the ways you have been helping, the boosts of encouragement, and just all around… *everything*!

Please, also, rememner to keep getting the word out there for the GoFundMe thing – from special socks to medical equipment to gadgets to help me come back physically, herbs & potions and…

and now that I think about it, this is the first time *ever* sinceI got out of the hospice four years ago that I haven’t had the ever-present but faint cloud of stress hanging over me because I could *never* get what I needed to really make a difference – not on my total of $400/mo for bills, herbs, & food.

You are taking that stress away, allowing me to finally focus completely on getting better, and focus on the *most* important goal – the writing & completion of my book, and changing the world through helping people.

You are making an amazing difference in my life., An immense one.

A permanent one.
Thank you.

Now pardon me while I *finally* put my damned legs up and blubber a little bit.