Enough is Enough/The Scourge

(PLEASE take a minute & read to the end to realize how far we’ve come. Thank you! ~ C)

I would much rather be talking about something like my book sales (soon!), amount of people the book has helped, or Bernie’s lead in the polls when I say “It just keeps getting bigger!” – and I have little doubt that soon I will be able to say it about those things, but unfortunately in this case, I’m not. I’m talking about something so revolting, so unnecessary, and something that could either continue to be the scourge of my existence, haunting my every moment with it’s curse & making every possible romantic interest run away screaming in revulsion – or simply be fixed in a couple hours, letting me live the life I (we) have fought so hard for over the past years.

Yeah, I’m talking about my godsdamned umbilical hernia. It grows. It laughs at me. Even the old beat up truss I use can’t contain it anymore. (It keeps slipping down.)

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It now has a new addition – a permanent “band aid”. Due to the constant chafing on my shirt, regardless of how tight I make the truss each morning, I have an open wound the size of a dime that simply refuses to heal… but there MAY be good news, just around the corner.

In 6 days, I FINALLY go in for a surgery consultation, and this is the point where they decide if they will perform the surgery necessary to make everything right again.

It’s absurd how (I’ve let) something as dumb as this has taken so much control over my enjoyment of life.

There are a few reasons that they wouldn’t agree to perform the surgery as far as I know, which are too much fluid in my abdomen, platelets so low that they would be afraid that I’ll never stop bleeding until the pump shuts down, or they’re curious to see what it looks like when a person’s guts come popping out of his belly like one of those “party popper” things with the streamers that we shoot in people’s hair.
I’m pretty sure we can cancel out the later though, as hell – this is SFGH, and I’m SURE they’ve seen their fair share of guts not neatly tucked into the body where they belong.

In order to have the best chance of not having either of the other two make them deny my surgery however (brief pause for AWWWwww! Ruby’s having a tail-wagging dream right now!)

Anyway, as I was saying, in order to have the best chance of getting my intestines back where they belong so I don’t have to deal with the daily physical pain & all the other stuff – I need your help. Again.

I’ve been taking over twice the dose of the herbs that will help (due to my poorly functioning liver & mal-absorption of everything, it’s necessary) and ran out, just a couple days ago. Already, the fluid is building up, my abdomen & legs are beginning to swell, and the pain and pressure builds.

As I’m sure you can imagine, even if you’re on of the few who haven’t been there, it’s horribly demeaning to still have to ask for help. Through most of my life, as broke as I’ve been, I’ve almost always – ALWAYS found a way to make it work out, save for a few past emergencies. Even though each time I feel like I take every bit of my dignity & throw it out the window – I have no choice other than to plead for you to help me in this fight again.

My paypal addy is ksea@culturefluxmagazine.com

The good news is that we ARE winning! There are quite a number of herbs that I’ve been able to cut down on or quit altogether, and the physical difference in me from just a couple of months ago is incredible. I have more energy, can put my shoes & socks on without needing to contort myself in strange ways just to reach my feet, and no more pools of blood or fluid from scratching off the tiniest scab. You ARE making a HUGE difference in my life, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.

So please, if you can, I need your financial support to get rid of this damned hernia! We’re getting so incredibly close to what you’ve all been helping me reach for – let’s keep on making this dream come true – and THANK YOU!

That address once again – ksea@culturefluxmagazine.com

Love love love,

~ Casey

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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.