Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

 

It’s time.

I drifted off to sleep last night with a hundred (or maybe 10) thoughts in my head of how weary of this life of thesamegoddamnedthing day after day, pretending to exist in the world around me with a head full of morphine, digging as deep as I can, past the haze & the hollowness just to feel all the things that nine years ago flowed with such purpose, vim, vigor and passion to the tips of my fingers, and from there it was a direct channel to my heart and all of the things that boiled inside.

I drifted off to sleep last night with ten (or maybe 5) thoughts rolling around in my head of how I had come to loathe this incessant fight for health, battling the swelling in my abdomen & legs every single day, the membrane-thin skin that tears like paper from the open sores caused by nothing more than scrubbing a bit too hard in the shower, the Fatigue, the Fatigue, the Fatigue.

And I woke up with the same conviction to change these things. Life has become nauseatingly uneventful, every day trying to battle the fatigue to conjure up the energy to create something new and, not being able to, feeling as if I’ve failed the day. That I’m not appreciating this life as I should, that I’m not fucking LIVING – and this needs to change.

By the end of the month I will have gone through the pure fucking hell of kicking Morphine. I need a little excitement in my life, and hoping I can race fast enough to the bathroom on legs that want to detach themselves from me & go other directions should be enough – at least for the time.

Then, more fun. Because I deserve it – and hell, this will be something *new*! I like new things, even if they’re used. Frequently especially if they’re used.

Sooooooo…

At my appointment with my Doctor on the 12th of this month, I’m going to open up talks – this time, for the *first* time, instigated by me instead of him, & more positive this time – of a liver transplant. He’s going to shit fucking rainbows. He’s been gently pressing me to get on the list for a transplant for years.

I have mixed feeling about the liver transplant. It seems like the easy way out, in a sense. Just take out the old one that’s killing me and put in a brand new shiny one… one that could easily go to someone else who needs it more. And I still believe that I can reverse my cirrhosis, do it myself… but there is also no way to determine if the herbs I’m taking are helping, as the test that would show that wouldn’t be covered by insurance unless there’s a good reason, and my guess is using herbs to fix what Western Medicine says can NOT be fixed wouldn’t be considered a good reason.

But it’s time. Time to change things, time to rip myself apart & put me together again – this time whole, with the pieces that have been left behind over the years found & fit & made to work again.
And I’m willing to take the easy way out – as long as it isn’t *too* easy.

It’s time.

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Lifeblood

Sooo… yeah.
I guess it’s about that time, isn’t it? I’ve been bad at keeping up in my online journal for the past… amount of time. I should do that/this before it gets out of hand, and there’s so much to say that nothing is said at all. Gots to feed the veuyerlits. (Hmm… Vueyerlits? Nope, not a word – or, at least wasn’t until now. Vueyerlit {n} def: One who more or less kinda closely follows (when they have time) the life of another through their writing.

But I digress. Things & stuffs. They’ve been happening. First, lets get that health crap out of the way. In two (TWO!) days I go in to get my bloodwork done – and this is the one I’ve been busting my ass to make right. Eating all the proper foods, staying away from detrimental ones, taking twice the dose of the herbs I need that will help (have to – since my liver is pretty much one big internal scar, I don’t absorb things the way I “should”. (and this is perhaps one of the VERY few times I would be happy to conform to what I “should” do.)

I’ve done all I could, spent nearly every dollar (except the $10 for Bernie & a bit for Isa A Shisha) on things that would help raise my platelets, red & white cells, & iron. All for surgery on my navel, which I have a CRAZY irrational phobia of other people touching – much less hacking away at. (What the HELL am I thinking? Just give me the manual and a scalpel. I’ll do this shit myself! Step away from my belly button, and no one gets hurt – got it?)

So now – money is gone, a few days left on food & the herbs – and countdown to 0:00, which is actually at 9:30am this Thursday, begins. There’s no reason to be nervous – at this point it’s either a pass or fail, essentially – and thanks to all of you, I’ve done all that I could. I’m sure as fuck going to HOPE, though – for whatever that’s worth… and continue with the mind/body meditations that got me out of the hospice, because I KNOW that helps – and hey, if any of you could slide some good energy my way, it sure would be appreciated… min’s running a tad low.

Oh, yeah. One other thing happens on that day, with the same bloodwork. It marks the 3 month limit they set… soooo, if the Hep-C virus is STILL undetectable, I am “officially” CURED OF FUCKING HEP-C!

Man. Talk about a fucking day – and I’m usually just barely getting out of bed at that time.

So, you may ask – what does being cured of Hep-C mean? Answer: Besides having the weight of possibly infecting someone else lifted off of my shoulders after fucking YEARS – not a damn thing, really. Well – the disease won’t progress, but fuck – at this point, where the hell does it have left to go? The damage – that’s been long, long since done.

BUT – NOW, I’m on a mission to figure out what herbs & concoctions can actually reverse cirrhosis. Western med can’t do it – but I’ll bet you my life (literally – haha?) that I can.

Aaaand – as if all of that wasn’t enough – there’s MORE! This is the good shit though – it’s easy, and short.
Three weeks after pulling the surprise attack on my Mother – she finally fucking called. Just to say hi, say she’s feeling better, getting around easier, and how am I?
After 10-11 months of not hearing a word from her, even through my birthday, the visit worked – and I owe it all to Kitty, who drove all the way from Sacramento to pick me up and take me another 3 hours North.

I put her pictures up again.

And yeah, there’s more – there always is, isn’t there? Even, at the rare times, where the outside is relatively calm – the mind never rests.
I fucking love it for that… but that’s for another time.

Maybe tomorrow.
Until again, I love you – and thank you for keeping me alive for all of this.

One last: and strangely enough, it’s actually an original kSea quote – I looked!

“Never let logic get in the way of your dreams.”

I fucking love you.

 

With the pedals come…

First, the amazing news:
Be HEALED! *ThWaP!!*
Some of you are aware that I started on the new, absolutely incredible treatment that *cures* Hep-C completely. Yeah, CURES. Like… it’s completely gone. No more constant fear of infecting anyone else by them using *anything* of mine that might have a microscopic drop of blood on it from a few weeks ago, and no worry of going even *further* downhill due to more damage.
That, of course, if IF it works – if it takes to the body, and does its job. There is always the possibility that it won’t…
Well, I went to the hospital Tuesday to pick up mythird 2 week supply of pills, and they had the bloodwork from the previous week done.
So… is it working, Doc? Are we getting the results we want?

DIG IT: In two short weeks, I went from 258,641 copies of the Hep-C virus per ml – to 13. THIRTEEN. Not thousand, not even hundred. 13 like you could count on your fingers, eyes & nose.
I’m getting CURED, after nearly 28 years of the virus slowly killing me – it will sooon be gone! C’mon, give me a HELLS YES! Open up your lungs and *scream* in celebration for the shit that’s actually working – let me HEAR ya!

But with the fantastic news, there is still the chewy center of fear. It happens when I let my guard down, when the strength wanes, when I relax for just a minute and my thoughts are allowed to wander.
It’s in these moments when I feel weak; like I have let myself down by letting myself feel, and what I feel in these moments is fear. Terror.
Failure for not being able to currently take care of myself, and letting this happen. Letting the virus take over because I feel as I have already asked for so much, been given so incredibly much by those who have been walking down this path with me…

This is how it began last time. The fluid leaking out of my body, draining, making me slip on the floor in my own juices… but this time I know so much more. I know how to keep the flesh from splitting, know how to make the symptoms and the pain of the swelling go away. I have the KNOWLEDGE to fix it this time…

I just don’t have the money for what I need, and without the herbs it very quickly gets worse.
So I have little choice. I hang my head again, and ask for help. Again.
I cannot do this alone. This is something that I need you to stay with me in – the financial help to get the herbs that I need to avoid returning to the hell you helped me fight my way out of four years ago.

So I’m asking. Pleading. The herbs I take DO help – I just need to stay on them until I’m able to get this back down to where it was – just te management.

So please, help if you are able. My paypal address is ksea@culturefluxmagazine.com – and I NEED your help. I’ve already waited much longer than I should have to ask.

ALso, please feel free to share this anywhere.

I still have some very important things I need to do – besides focus on not ending up in the hospital for months (or worse) again.

Thank you. I love you.

~ Casey

To be Cured… & then, To Help

Over six months.

Over six months I’ve been in here, watching life from afar – my life, our life, the life I once had that so magnificently, rightfully, justifiably exhausts me and fills me with the energy of love as I see so many beautiful people, the people I am so blessed to call my friends and acquaintances as I walk into and around an event, as I fall in love with such beauty over and over and over again, completely awestruck by the talent, the dreams that are realized through so much effort, the way that they shine so brilliantly…

and gods, just things as simple as seeing someone’s face light up, a reflection of mine, as we notice each other on the floor and say hello.

It’s impossible to portray in words how much I miss that…

So I fight like hell – not only to live, but to come home. To be a part of the life I love so much again, to feel alive instead of watching people die – people who have given up the fight, or simply don’t know how to. I’ve watched four people die since I’ve been in here, and I’m sure there will be more… this is not a place that I want to be, but it’s where I need to be right now – so I fight like hell, doing every small thing in my power to get healthy enough to leave. I know exactly what my goal is, and I’m going to reach it.

For the most part I’ve been feeling better, much better since I began taking control over my own healing, but still have the edema and ascites (leg & abdomen swelling due to (in my case) cirrhosis of the liver), carrying an extra forty pounds of fluid which needs to come off – and therein lies the challenge.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It’s funny, in a tragic way.

The books I’m reading about real people who have cleared the Hep C Virus are like sitcoms where they keep complaining about how much money it takes, how much money they don’t have, yet they still manage to somehow come up with hundreds or  sometimes thousands of dollars for this treatment, that miraculous remedy, that perfect supplement or other thing which under normal circumstances I would write off as pure quackery, but in doing countless hours of research am convinced enough that it actually works to try it – these aren’t normal circumstances. I desperately want to live, not just survive, watching life and the world go by in pain, too exhausted to do anything anymore. I count my pennies and do what I can, but…

I think of all of the people who purchase their books; full of hope, expectations, and optimism that perhaps they could have their lives and dreams back before everything took a turn for the worse and the world they knew fell apart – that maybe, just maybe, the constant fatigue, the pain, & all of the various symptoms that are created by Hep-C could truly be cured. They read voraciously about these people who actually cured themselves, anticipating getting started… then they get to the parts about how much all of it cost the people who did it, and again, just like the other books, with a heavy sigh put the book down, again with all of their hopes and dreams, and wait to die, because they can’t afford to live.

To be CURED. Healed completely of Hepatitis C, forever. Something that the majority of western medicine still refuses to acknowledge as possible, but the proof that it’s possible if you’re willing to fight for your life is everywhere, baby – in the books I buy, in the relentless & exhausting research I do on the internet, checking and double checking all of the things that say they can help me live again. Some, of course, I still write off as complete bullshit – others that I have glanced over before, however… well, considering the dire circumstances & the extra research I have done, I feel deserve a fighting chance – to add to my chance to stay alive.

To be Cured. To have the energy back to chase down & live out my dreams – with perhaps the most important and reachable dream I have ever had added to them all. In the time I’ve been here and the research I’ve done, I’ve decided that I need to write a book – a book about how I cured myself with barely any money, a book that won’t discourage the average person from their fight to live. It will be complete yet relatively short, simple, and most important, hopefully fun to read. Something that gives hope, fuels the fight to stay alive – and maybe, just maybe – saves lives. (The book I’m reading now is dry as all hell, and though filled with perhaps the best & most information out of any other book I’ve bought, a bitch to get through.)

On a subject about something that is the fastest growing epidemic these days, I don’t think getting it published will be difficult…

But the only way I can write it is to get results, to cure myself, and with the fees I’m paying here & my only income being a single disability check, I don’t have the money I need to actually do all of the things I need to do to see if they work or not. I run out of herbs I know that are working to be able to afford something new, I don’t have any choice but to sometimes go with the lowest price/quality of them, and though many people have been wonderful and helped here and there with money, the fight to be able to purchase what I need is ongoing – it won’t stop until, at the very least, I’m healthy enough to leave this place and not have to pay the fees (or pay for food twice, as the health of the food here is, for the most part, pathetic; a small example being Tang and fruit punch instead of actual juices, and most everything over-salted. I spend as much as possible simply for food that isn’t bad for me…

So here it comes. I need people’s help, on a steady basis – but only until I’m out of here, and I’m fighting like hell towards that goal. I need to be able to stay in the herbs & supplements that I know do help, and be able to have the financial ability to try different things such as regular liver & gallbladder cleanses, purchase better, more effective herbs, be able to try other things that look promising and hell, just something as simple as healthy food. Though what I am doing has helped since I decided to take my healing into my own mind and hands in January, it needs to be stepped up in order to get healthy enough to actually get my ass out of here – to fight this like hell, to fight it with everything I can, as the new book I’m reading described a condition that my symptoms match exactly called Portal Hypertension – and it progresses severely.

That means asking for help. Asking you for help, because you’re all that I have. I believe that only another $100 – $200/month on top of my average of $300 will do it – and hell, compared to the f*cked up costs of prescription drugs, I feel that’s a bargain to stay alive. (My HIV meds – a bottle of 30 tablets – costs over $1700/month by comparison).

So… if any of you can commit to helping regularly so I don’t have to keep asking – $20, $40, $50/month, to help this fight, preferably in the middle-ish of the month when the plethora of necessary “save kSea’s life” stuff begins to run out (I take more than the recommended dose with many, as that’s for healthy people) – I don’t think I need to say how much I would appreciate it.

If it means anything, you’ll get an “Extra Special Thanks” mention in my book…

Which I will write from the beautiful road while I simultaneously get my ass back to working on CultureFlux.

If you can help at all, or if you have helped, thank you so very much – you know how much it means to me – but in order for this to work I need steady assistance so I can keep up on all of what I need to fight this – and I need to fight like hell.

(Paypal addy kSea@culturefluxmagazine.com)

What I Would Give…

2-11-11

What I would give,

give for the day, the days, the weeks or months it would take to one day,

one day wake up and not have the pain, the swelling, the Hepatitis-C as my very first thought

the day I wake up realizing that I have beat the virus as so many others have

the day my life doesn’t revolve around it and I am free of this hell,

free to live my life again.

What I would give… already it takes every waking thought, every penny I have & more,

to the point where I bought some of the herbs that would make me better instead of the money I thought that I had & completely miscalculated, overspending by $150 and then hit with the overdraft fee. Jeebus. Lame-ass me…

But things are improving, even though the directors here don’t seem to acknowledge that they are since I refused the western meds that were poisoning me and not helping the smallest bit. Still, they need to improve faster.

So much of life tries to take my spirit, but they can try as hard as they want – the harder they try,

the stronger I get – and they’ll soon realize that. It has been strengthened with paste and bandages and the impossible knots of a sailor, a vagabond, a wanderer – a beautiful fool.

I read the books, the book by & about a person who completely cleared the Hep-C Virus with herbs & diet with pages of testimonials of people who have done & are doing the same with the program he used after being dragged mercilessly over the coals by western medicine;

I read the book & research the herbs, know that they’ll work – but right now the words I read are nothing but dreams of perhaps another day, dreams of the day I have the money to get them. I only wish that time was not such a serious factor in all of this, but I need to show results as soon as I possibly can.

It’s a game that I need to play, and right now it’s their game – as trivial as it sounds, I need the baths, I need the frequent laundry done as the fluid leaks out of my legs, saturating my clothes and bed linen, and I need the simple comfort. All I need is a couple more months for some valid results.

One of these days.

One of these days I’ll finally realize that I have beat the virus and have my life back. Right now, however, I need to somehow be able to afford the food that is good for me, and the herbs that will help get rid of the cirrhosis, help my liver, and do away with the edema so I can walk like a healthy person (or run, or STILT) – something to show them, so they stop trying to feed me the antibiotics & other drugs that rip my liver to shreds…

And I’m asking for help.

Once I’m out of here I’ll be able to afford them myself, and focus on completely kicking the virus’s ass, as the fees to stay here are 60% of a small (but manageable – when I pay attention, heh heh) disability check.

Gods, I want out of this place. Everything here is a game that I need to play so I can stay long enough to truly do what I need to get my health back – & they hold all the good cards.

2-14-11

A bone marrow biopsy. That’s what is letting me stay in here, having that completely unnecessary procedure of jamming a needle into my bone on the schedule – I think for March, but need to check. (By the way, EVERY single test that my nurse practitioner has ordered for me has shown that I am fine for what they tested me for – it’s just whimsical bullshit – let’s try this or that, but damn it –  it’s MY frigging body, my life, and at this point I am sick to f’ing death of being their damned lab rat.

(Almost literally, with the side effects I went through with the interferon,  & next –  “Hey, how about a transplant? It doesn’t cure the virus, I’m 25% more likely to get cirrhosis due to the toxic drugs I need to take so my body accepts the new organ –  and the survival rate after five years is only 70%, but Yeah! Great idea, and everyone makes money!)

But if you can help in the financial area so I can get the herbs I need ASAP (or even if you can’t) I’ll be thrilled to cook a damn fine meal for you – either brunch or dinner, as well as, of course, passing all the knowledge gained through this ordeal on to anyone else who is going through the same hell with Western “Medicine” that you know, and helping them.( paypal addy ksea@culturefluxmagazine.com  – he writes in hope)

The western medicine people have fucked with the wrong person.

I just wish there were herbs to cure my phone as well, as it – almost my only connection to the outside world besides the community computers, is just seconds away from its final death rattle.

Oh, the fun!

Okay, gots to go hope I can hop on the only neighborhood network that’s not locked so I can post this.

(Sorry about the rant – and… um – Happy Valentines day!) ;^)~

EDIT –  How could I leave you without pretty pictures? (Depending on what you consider ‘pretty’, of course)

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