Being Poor Sucks Donkey Balls

I've been out of work since Febuary 15th and I STILL haven't received any short-term disablity checks. Why in the fuck am I paying for this shit if it's not going to help me when I need it? The dude called me Thursday and said he was mailing my check out Friday. Woo hoo, right? Yeah, not really. Apparently there's a waiting period and I'm only getting paid from March 2-March 22 when I go back to work. That is some straight up bullshit. Shelter Insurance (Dad's insurance) is trying to dick me around and get out of paying my medical bills and loss of wages. I'll probably have to sue and that's a pain in my ass but it's more than worth it.

My van is all jacked up because my old man had an accident. The transmission's going out and it won't go in reverse at all. Basically, I'm up shit creek because I live about 10 miles from the store and don't have a vehicle that actually works. I had to walk 20 miles round trip a few days ago to pick up my meds and cigs. That fucking HURT. I'm a hiker and used to walking long distances but walking that far on pavement is a whole different ballgame. I'm getting bicycle ready so I'll have a way to work. Oh joy, I get to ride my bike about 10 miles before gearing up for a day of giving showers and wiping asses. Fun times.

Why does my life have to suck? Why does the shit hit the fan all at once, all the time? I must've had one hell of a rockin' past life to deserve all this.

I Feel Like I've Been Hit By A Truck

Oh wait, that's because I WAS hit by a truck! Dad's truck, to be exact.

No really! Monday evening I took E to the Conservation Area to walk the paved trail and the road to the trail is all downhill. We've had snow but the roads were mostly clear and there was only a light dusting on that road so I thought it would be fine. Oh, how very wrong I was. It went from light dusting of snow to like 3 inches of snow the last 1/8 mile or so and of course that's the steep part where there's nowhere to turn around . I said fuck it and we went for the walk anyway--we knew we wouldn't make it back up the hill so might as well get some exercise, right?

So we finish the walk and attempt the big ass hill. It didn't work and the van almost went off in the ditch. I put on the emergency break, left E in the van with the heater running, and walked far enough up the hill to get a cell phone signal to call Dad. He brought out his 4wd truck and chains to pull us out. So he's parked probably 50ft. in front of the van with his E break on and I'm up under the front of the van looking for a place to attach the chain. The next thing I know, here comes the damn truck flying backwards at me . I was screaming "STOP! STOP!" but he couldn't hear me and he couldn't stop anyway because somehow the Emergency break had disengaged on it's own. It's a damn good thing I have fast reflexes or I'd be dead right now. I grabbed on to whatever I could find under that van, hauled myself back as far as I could, and swung my legs up alongside me. The front of the van is all dented but the damage is all cosmetic.

I WALKED AWAY from that. Well, crawled then walked. It tore the fuck out of my right knee and I don't even know how many stitches I needed, but it was so bad they had to put me under GA and call in a surgeon to do it. The ER doc wasn't qualified. I ripped through tendons, ligaments, muscle tissue, and severed an artery. Lost a lot of blood but not enough to need a transfusion. The contrast of the white snow and the bright red blood pouring out of my leg was actually quite pretty. There was no way an ambulance could've made it down there so Dad helped me get into the front passenger seat of the truck, buckled E (who isn't hurt at all) into the backseat, and drove me to the ER. These fuckers made me wait in the waiting room for an hour before taking me back, then made me wait another, oh, 5 or 6 hours before doing the surgery. They didn't even clean the wound for 2 hours. I got here aound 6pm, they took me back at 7pm, cleaned it around 8pm then did x-rays (nothing's broken), the ER doc looked at it around 10pm and the surgeon wasn't notified until close to midnight. WTF. I either have the worst luck in the world--since weird shit like this happens to me--, the best luck in the world--since I haven't been killed or permanetly disabled from the weird shit--, or a combination of both. I should be dead right now, not typing about it on the internet and making jokes.

I came home last night (2/16) and am doing pretty good considering. I literally couldn't move this morning when I woke up because my entire body was so sore, but after I got some Percoset in me I was good to go. I can get around the house ok on my own and only need help getting in and out of bed, on and off the couch, and washing my back. I can't get the wound wet so I have to take sponge baths. YUCK. Better than being dirty and oily, though. I have a badass JP drain hanging out of the wound and a Franken-knee. I hope it leaves a permanent scar because that would be awesome as hell. I love scars. They make a person seem so much more interesting because there's a story behind every one. I have a hell of a good story to go along with this one.

Letting Go of The Ones We Love

I've lost a lot of people in my 28 years. I've been around more death than anyone should experience in a lifetime, both through my own personal experiences and through my work. Around 11pm last night, I lost yet another person I loved. My beloved grandmother passed away. Her death was not unexpected--she'd been going downhill for a few weeks and was on hospice care at the nursing home where I work--but it is still painful. While I am relieved that she is no longer suffering, I miss her. I'm selfish like that.

Grandma lived next door to my whole life, save for a couple of years when I moved to town. Until a few years ago she lived alone, then moved in with my parents when she became unable to care for herself. We have a sort of family compound situation going on here--her house is up the driveway, my parents live in front of me, and my house is the middle. She was like a second mother to me. When I was little, she was the one who took me to the park, to the movies, to friends' houses, picked me up from school, etc. I spent countless hours at her house watching Lawrence Welk and The Golden Girls. Where were my parents? They were around. They're good parents and they understood the need for Grandma and I to have a good relationship.

As I grew older, our relationship dynamic shifted. Being a typical teenager, I grew to resent her concern for my wellbeing. I remember her taking me shopping for my 8th grade graduation dance dress and hearing her yell, "I'm not buying you a damn naked dress!" loud enough that everyone in the store stopped to stare. I was mortified--what in the hell is a naked dress anyway? She didn't want me to wear anything too revealing and apparently anything that didn't have bubble sleeves was, in her mind, too revealing. As an adult, she helped pay for my attorney when we were dealing with the courts after my son died. She also paid for his headstone, a gift for which I will be forever thankful. I wasn't always the nicest of granddaughters and she wasn't always the nicest of grandmothers but we loved each other and when one needed help, the other was there to provide it.

In her later years I became an assistant caregiver to her during her time in my parents home, helping her with bathing and hygiene. Her last few months were spent in the nursing home where I bathed her, fed her, and spent time with her. I'm proud to say that I was able to care for her up until her passing. My only regret is not visiting more often this past week, but I couldn't because R had back surgery on Monday and I needed to be home with him. I did see her yesterday when I went to work to retrieve my paycheck, but couldn't wake her. I know she heard me and knew of my presence--a person can hear until the moment of death even after all other senses have gone. I was there to assistant the man from the funeral home in loading her onto the stretcher and into the hearse. As hard as it was for me to see her like that, I felt I owed it to her.

Good-bye, Grandma. You were a wonderful person and you will not be forgotten.

Parenting FAIL

So S is a naked kid who rarely wears clothing around the house and tries to strip in public. She'll be 3 this month. I can't keep shoes on her in the van unless I want to duct tape them on and I'm thinking that might get CPS called on me so that's out. Today we went to town to get my check, go to the store, etc. and when I got to the gas station she told me she had to pee. Kid has only been PT'd a month or two and you know how it is at that stage--when they say they have to go they mean business.

So I unbuckle her and realize her shoes are missing. What.the.fuck. I dug around for a minute or two before giving up and carried her into the store barefoot. Did I mention there's snow on the ground and it's cold as fuck here? Yeah. A couple of well meaning strangers came up and started making comments like "Poor little baby, where are her shoes?" and "Awe, aren't her little feet cold?" I felt like a raging asshole because I know how it looked. I did explain what had happened but I don't think they believed me because I got THE LOOK. You know the one I'm talking about.

I guess that says something about the state of my van if I couldn't find her shoes. Maybe it's time to clean it out.

Mom Vs. Cave

I was going through my Flickr account and ran across these pictures of Mom taken at Little Scott Cave. They're priceless.



^Mom getting pissed off because I was snapping pictures instead of helping her ^



^Struggling to escape^



^Sweet freedom^

I'm aware that I'm an asshole for posting these but damn, who wouldn't? There's only a 7ft drop with hand and footholds to get down into the cave. I have no idea why she had so much trouble climbing out but it's provided endless entertainment for me. The best part was when she was almost out and somehow her overalls FELL OFF (WTF???) and she go back down after them. I love caving with Mom. It's always a hoot.

Once More With Feeling

I've been a huge fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer since season 3? originally aired. I'm aware that this makes me a dork and I'm cool with that. Since the old man had back surgery on Monday and I'm medical leave to help him out at home, we've been having a Buffy marathon. Right now "Once More With Feeling" is on. I love the shit out of this episode. It has everything--singing demons and vamps, Anya in lingerie, Buffy making her friends feel like assholes for yanking her out of Heaven. There was nothing better on TV before and there hasn't been anything better since.

We were supposed to see this at the Tivoli in St. Louis a few years ago but the bastards cancelled. I'll never get over being pissed about that.

Security Tool

Security Tool is a virus/rogue anti-spyware program that I had the absolute joy of discovering on my computer several hours ago. This bastard likes to shut down your anti-virus programs, continuosly pops up trying to persuade you purchase the full version(don't do it! SCAM!!!), and tells you that your computer is infected with tons of very.bad.shit. Do not, under any circumstances, remove the files it says are infected. You need them to run your system.

After dicking around with this fucker for, I don't know, 2 hours maybe trying to remove it in Safe Mode with Networking using my Avast, Windows Defender, and manual attempts, I stumbled across my savior. Malwarebytes' Anti-Malware is the shit. Took Security Tool of my PC in less than 15 minutes. If you ever have the misfortune of getting infected by Security Tool, download this baby. You can run the trial for free and it's only $24.95 to buy and keep from getting re-infected. I would have it's babies if I could--I love it THAT much.

To get it to work, you need to be in Safe Mode with Networking. If you're not, you're fucked because Security Tools won't let you download the Anti-Malware. MAKE SURE YOU'RE IN SAFE MODE WITH NETWORKING.



^ Satan in computer virus form ^



^ The Savior ^