Please share any prayer requests you may have for friends or loved ones here….
Prayer Requests – Part 11
Prayer Requests – Part 12
Prayer Requests – Part 13
Prayer Requests – Part 14
Prayer Requests – Part 15
Prayer Requests – Part 16
Prayer Requests – Part 17
Prayer Requests – Part l8
Prayer Requests – Part 19
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Update on my friend….has been transferred to rehab, fitted with a ‘sleeve’…and the rehab process is now underway…
Praise be to God from whom all blessings flow…! And to Treeper Prayer Warriors, a huge thank you…
Please keep the prayers coming so that he can heel and move on with life!
Glad to hear he’s progressing, Aggie.
Thank you! He made it thru the weekend….so the work starts now, in earnest…all is looking good!
He also has two beautiful Dobermans that are missing him. I am praying that things go quickly and smoothly to move forward and walk the dogs…get an adapted vehicle…etc!
Good day all.
Just a little update!
Finished 12 radiation treatments on Friday. Only 18 more to go 👊👍😉..my skin is getting a bit crusty and red but no big deal. The good news is I can tell the tumor is definitely smaller and I can’t feel the involved lymph nodes anymore. Your prayers are working THANK YOU. 🙏❤️
I brought a huge bouquet of lively zinnias on Monday,on Tuesday someone brought Coreopsis,they look like daisies and on Wednesday a bouquet of zinnias showed up. The nurses and technicians are thrilled 😀.
I cross paths with 2 young women whom have had chemotherapy before getting radiation and I always say hello with a big smile, well on Friday they both beat me to the greeting and the silent acknowledgment that were in this together. It is quite uplifting. I did a lot more research into the icky Ibrance and found out that in combination with the lesser icky Femara the overall survival rate is only 3 months longer 🤔hmmmm what to do.?
soooo tomorrow I have radiation, a bone density scan and a brain scan I hope they find one, a brain I mean. 😁
I also want to note that while I don’t post prayers to everyone, it’s just because I’m not good at it however I do pray for everyone.
So now I’m off to go into my garden and gather some more flowers to bring tomorrow.
I hope it’s ok to post my little story here. ❤️🙏🤗
Bcsurvivor2,
How blessed I am by your update!! You sound soooo good. I can hear your smile in your words.
I am most certain they will find a big beautiful brain in there, and I’ll be praying the scans come back with good results for you.
I pray blessings over your head, down your body, to the tips of your fingers and toes, an anointing of holy oil from God through the Holy Spirit that permeates your body, right through your pores and a sweet incense that you breathe in through your nostrils that cleanses you from the inside out.
I pray Ibrance is not needed!
I pray The Lord’s Miracles for you and for your partners in this treatment and healing mission. That you can supernaturally laugh at how utterly crazy your results will turn out. I pray over you… blessed JOY and giggles that you cannot stifle.
I pray the Sonshine you carry lights up the rooms you are in and is so vibrant that it captivates all who surround you.
May your joy be infectious and epidemic.
Bring Glory to God in all things and He Will carry you through all things.
Blessed peace to you BCSurvivor2. I look forward to more of your updates.
We are all rooting for you dear friend.
In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
Thank you JWoo,
I was stressing about the radiation and 2 subsequent scans on and off yesterday afternoon. The anxiety just starts creeping in. However, I know I have a choice. I can let it take over and get all weepy or I can say nope, not gonna happen. God’s got this and because I and you all are praying for me I’m not going to hold the reins.
so out to the garden I go. I picked a fresh bouquet of flowers for the radiation people, harvested a pumpkin and a ton of paste tomatoes, ran my hands through the sage and rosemary and basil, what a glorious scent. My two darling hens have been banished from the garden for a few months but now that everything is mature I allowed them back in ha! So very funny to see them running around and finding bugs and reclaiming a raised bed for their dust bath.
Soooo at the radiology center this morning,they had computer issues and were running behind meh. One of the women I told you about was there and we struck up a conversation. We both have breast cancer but she had the most difficult chemotherapy you can get. I asked her if she would do it again and her answer was NO WAY. She only did it because she has a five year old adopted son. That response sealed the deal for me on the Ibrance.
getting long here. I was early for my scan appointments but I didn’t have to wait at all. I was actually done and on my way home before the second scan was scheduled. I live in rural East Tennessee and drive forty minutes to the hospital complex. The people that work there are amazing rock stars. So blessed to have such a wonderful team.
And blessed to have all of you ❤️🙏
Just checking in, Survivor.
Sounds like a productive day. Blessings counted and friends made.
Keeping those prayers flowing in response to your scans.
You are a blessing to us, as well, friend. Keep your Spirit up, love! We are here!
I’m so glad your spirits are up, Eve. What a blessing you are to all those you come into contact with as well. God bless you so very much!
Love ya Joe. Look ⬆️ to my post to JWoo ❤️
Of course it is ok…it makes it more real in the internet of things! I hope today goes well…gardening is one way to get close to God. Prayers on the way!
Thanks Aggiegirl
look ⬆️ to my post to JWoo ❤️🙏
Dear Bcs2: I read your post and had to smile, especially about your garden. Right there with you:)
I have three older sisters. The first is now 30 years post-bc. The second is now 5 years post-bc. I am now 7.5 years post-bc. The last sister has a biopsy scheduled for later this month. I told her she didn’t need to make this four out of four:)
In any event, many Blessings to you. Just wanted to say there are three happy endings in my family. Women (and men!) are beating this more and more. Sounds to me like you are, too!
P.S. As to the radiation – I used a special topical cream designed by cancer radiologists. It worked wonderfully well. Can’t recall the name of the product, but you may want to ask your radiologist? It wasn’t very expensive. Just a thought.
Here’s prayer a for your complete healing and recovery.
It’s stories like this that blow away the chaff of politics. Your heart is in the right place and God is using you to reflect his light to us here.
We will all get “unpeeled” of these bodies soon enough, and we’ll hopefully be in the light just as you are. May God grant you amazing peace and recovery.
Good morning, friends!
I come asking for some prayers this morning, as last week was a pretty rough week for me, and I am praying that this week will be a much better one! I am being tormented, or rather I was, but I ended up breaking things off with my partner of 6 months last night because they said they would not be willing to attend church more often for me, although they had mentioned previously that they wanted to be a better person because of me. I immediately felt a sense of peace last evening after I ended things, but I’m still dealing with some arrows that are still being slung by the devil.
My only thoughts are that he was potentially losing his grip on my partner and he began to attack me, instead. Anyway, I could really use some prayers, my friends. God Bless ALL of you here!!! Much love!
What are some ways that you all ignore/rebuke the devil and his snares? Some days I don’t feel strong enough, but I KNOW for a fact that I am! I didn’t get this far in life by being a pushover, or by giving in to peer pressure.
When I’m feeling the doubts and fears I look in the mirror and just say NO! It’s really that simple. ❤️🙏🤗
I’ll give it a try, although I’m feeling much better today than I have in the last week! Thank you, BCSurvivor2! Much love 🫶
Hi Lifestyles,
You exercised a boundary, friend. It was a non-negotiable, especially in today’s day and age. Proud of you for standing up for yourself and not accepting less than the very best for yourself and for him.
In my experience, it has never been a good thing when I’ve tried to “change” or “improve” someone else. We are only responsible for our own person and the outcomes of making poor choices in this realm can have very, very long and tormenting consequences.
How do I rebuke the devil and his snares? In cases like you are in currently, I think about the “what ifs” if I didn’t stand my ground. I don’t know your age, but let’s say you are a young 20-something. Say you relented and negotiated and gave up footing. Say you got married with “promises” of improvement – and those promises never came to fruition. But, by the time you realized it – you had children with your partner… and you got divorced. Then the backsliding of faith continues further and your child raising becomes a tug of war between you and, oftentimes, a parenting partner who does NOT share your principles and you find yourselves adversarial in raising your precious children to love God.
Do we really need to go here???? Friend… just DON’T. I promise you; I would rather live my life isolated and alone, away from all humans… than separated from my fellowship with God our Father. Without Him, there is simply no hope.
Non-negotiable.
We just need to think about the twist in our bellies if we choose to stay in unholy circumstances and how big that problem can get.
Flee. Flee like the wind!
Thank you, and God bless you, JWoo! 🙏
I absolutely refuse to allow the torment of the devil to consume me regarding this. Him and I spoke a little today regarding this again, and he refuses to budge, so I have ended things for good. My Christian spirit cannot mesh with one of wickedness and rejection, nor do I want to try at this point. I imagined a very happy life together, until the attacks began, so I am happily moving on with my life. I just pray that he finds God before it is too late. I hope I’ve planted a seed that will continue to grow, and I hope that he’s able to recognize life without the light of Jesus, and the direness of the situation as a whole, as sad as that may be.
I am a few months shy of 30 here!
Thank you for your kind words! I certainly needed them this evening ❤️
You did the right thing. The Bible tells us not to be unequally yoked, & from what you’ve described it sounds like that’s what would have happened had you continued the relationship. As far as dealing with Satan, sometimes you just have to remind him that he’s a defeated foe & you’re a blood-bought child of the living King. Keeping your faith anchored in Christ & what He did for us at the cross is the best thing you can do to maintain a healthy life—in fact it’s essential for victorious living. I also like to sing this little chorus to myself:
I went to the enemy’s camp & I took back what he stole from me
Took back what he stole from me
Took back what he stole from me
I went to the enemy’s camp & I took back what he stole from me
he’s under my feet, he’s under my feet
Satan is under my feet
God bless you, dear lady. Prayers of love & strength for you.
Thank you so much, Joe, all of you have been very encouraging! I feel about 180 lbs. lighter this morning, PRAISE GOD!!!!
I hope you have a blessed day!!
180 lbs lighter – feelzzzz goooooood.
What is a HUGE alarm bell to me here, friend, is that you expressed your “needs” and you were “attacked” for them. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Now, sad as it is – and I’ve seen this too many times before – he’ll likely marry right away – and become a “Christian”.
If he does – terrific. Whatever the case may be – HE IS NOT FOR YOU.
Someone who LOVES YOU and wants to protect you and nurture you – does not ATTACK YOU. That’s not love. That’s CONTROL.
Stay firm. We have your back!
I should have clarified a bit better, he did not attack me, but the devil took it personally that I was pulling someone out of his grips, or so I thought. I think that’s the reason I started being attacked/tormented.
Thank you for your kind words! This fellowship here was much needed! 🙌
Thank you for the clarification.
With that information, I yield to the fact that salvation is individual… one on one with God.
Your seeds are planted and it is God through the Holy Spirit who brings forth the yield.
Your ex-beau is responsible for his response to The Lord’s tugging.
I pray your continued good fortune and steadfastness with assurances from The Lord for your faithfulness.
And in response to the devil and his schemes, I denounce him and toss him back to the pits of hell where he belongs. he has no authority over you… or here… and he is a defeated foe.
Just keep tossing him out, girlfriend!
My wonderful daughter who has struggled for years in the IVF world has found not one but two beautiful Christian women of unbelievable faith and goodness who will be surrogates. Today was the day. I asked if she really wanted to try for two. “Dad, people have twins all the time.” May God shine down on this adventure with all his blessing.
Some prayers will always help.
Big huge prayers for your daughter.🙏❤️
Praying for successful deliveries for your daughter, Joe K. To God be the Glory!
How wonderful that she was able to find TWO Christian women to surrogate for her! Many prayers heading her direction, for safe and healthy pregnancies! What an adventure indeed!!!
I sit here with tears in my eyes in thanks for each of you taking the time to read my request and express your support. Love you all. I’m thinking God really enjoys CTH.
I’m thinking we have found our “kin” here, for sure. Love you, Joe K.
Heavenly Father,
How can one go to bed tonight not thinking of the legal injustice and persecution in our land? It is beyond my comprehension or anything in my wildest dreams.
Father, God, I am sure I am not alone in wondering what part each of us will play in the future of our country, but God… we rest fully in You, Who Is The Maker of all creation and Who breathes life into the saint and wicked alike.
In Your Perfect Timing… all will be made right. Romans 8:28 all things (ALL things) work for the good of those who love You and who are called according to Your Purpose.
Father, God, bless our rightful President Donald J. Trump and his family and his employees. May none see one moment imprisoned. May the fingers of justice point squarely on those criminals who seek a distortion of Truth and power. For every wrongful accusation and conviction thrown, may the retribution be thousand fold. May their crimes be known and may our citizens have their eyes and ears opened to believe.
Build in us, Father, solidarity and Truth and may we never depart from either. One Nation Under God deliver us from evil.
As You were in the beginning, Are now, and forevermore Will Be… world without end.
In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name and in Your Holy Spirit, I pray, AMEN
Please pray for my friend Gina. She was treated for breast cancer last year and had a double mastectomy as well. The cancer has returned and starts chemo WED.
Praying for your friend Gina. ❤️🙏
Im on my 4th recurrence in 10 years and I’m still kicking it 👍👊..
blessings
Praying for Gina to be healed totally & completely, in Jesus’ mighty name. God bless.
Praying for Gina’s peace of mind through this journey and for her cancer to be eradicated. I pray her suffering and pain be brief and her overcoming the thief called cancer. In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
Let us pray for our President Donald J Trump.
Hello Tree friends -In the past I have asked for prayer for my father’s salvation here. I am going to do that again but throw in a LOT of other variables.
My parents had me late in life for the 1970s. I didn’t marry until age 41 & it took a long time to adopt two children. Praise God for giving me my own family – finally!! They are wonderful but all the concerns everybody else has I share — avoiding the jab while earning money to support children. Keeping them safe from this monstrous world and navigating education without doctrination – hard stuff and I appreciate your prayers for me and my husband. Also, as adopted kids, I feel extra motivated to ground them in family and love to draw on when they are older.
My parents will be ages 95 and 88 in October. We do not live in the same city – 9 hours away by car. They live at home alone still! And that is not sustainable. My mother is overwhelmed by my father’s failing health. He has CHF, Kidney failure & repeating severe anemia that has yet to be solved. I took over his care on Fathers Day and abandoned my own life to be here but it’s been nearly impossible with kids and remote work. My father is an atheist but can’t dialogue at all as to why. He is mentally in decline and I can’t believe he is still unrelenting on hearing about Jesus. He is truly ignorant. Spiritual warfare abounds. If he lives six more months it would be surprising and by God’s continued grace and incredible mercy.
All of this has taken a toll on my mom. She is having a lot of memory issues and some logic issues. She constantly tells me I am controlling and keeping secrets from her. I am not. She just can’t remember any previous conversations. So she is mean to me and that is probably the most heart breaking part of it all. I need her and miss her and she is fearful and exhausted and I think has dementia. My extended family – I can’t even go there.
Please cover this situation in prayer. My husband who is helping on every front as best he can with such a good attitude, my Korean vet atheist dad (best daddy ever), my precious prayer warrior mom who is losing her mind and obviously cracking under the strain of eternal separation from her mate of 68 years, me at the center of two families. I am hiring sr helpers and will have RN palliative meet them today. I need help of every kind – I need Jesus & his angels. We have all come this far and I know the story is not yet fully written. I do believe that God can be glorified in how this all goes in the next few months/year but I am tired. Thank you so much for reading this. I am too busy to read comments today but will check back tomorrow morning. In Him, MT
Hi Mama Tried,
When I first read your name, I read “Mama TIRED” and from your posting – that sure sounds appropriate.
I wish I could wrap my arms around you and tell you that this is all going to be okay. IT WILL BE. You are in a season. We, as believers, are commissioned to go out and “spread the gospel”, however the cultivation of the seeds we sew… is entirely up to God through the Holy Spirit. Which, my friend, please give yourself grace… that you are doing everything you can.
There are some things I want to say which may sound controversial – but I have a very, very dear friend whom I’ve known over 30 years who is a retired Fire Captain and Paramedic – so I trust him completely with my life. His father is in his late 80’s too and had some issues with anger and salty behavior – dementia – violent outbursts. He is helping his father with Wyld CBD Gummies with Lion’s Mane Mushroom – psychedelic nefarious things are filtered out of this. His father has calmed significantly and is much more lucid, docile, and manageable.
I would never usually recommend such things – but he has an almost 40-year career in dealing with patients and emergency response. They can be found through a CBD store and maybe they can give your mom and dad some comfort, but you would need to administer them and not leave them to their own devices.
I am a Godly Christian woman and would never intend to introduce anything controversial to you, but I do trust this man with my life – and I understand that there are some medical remedies that are beyond my knowing. He’s the executor of my estate and tasked with caring for my daughter and working on her behalf if something were to happen to me, so I take his wisdom and advice seriously. He has found this to be most helpful with several that he knows who are suffering from memory maladies that are causing aggressive outbursts. He said his father likes the pear flavored variety.
As for you, dear sweet woman – you are showing your children the most important lesson of sacrificing for your family. I would add to the above – maybe you can play some soft Christian music in the background to calm your parents’ home. If your atheist father is against such – maybe you can find the Christian music in instrumental version via a YouTube play list.
Pray and anoint the home, which I do all of the time for my own home. I use simple olive oil and I go to each window and entry door and I place a small cross on the door and window frame and I cast out evil from the house. My prayers go something like this:
“satan I banish you from this home and from my family in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior. you have no authority here or over any occupants here. For those who look in and who look out, for those who walk in and walk out, as for me and my house, we will serve The Lord, in Jesus’s Name, AMEN”
I also anoint my 17-year-old daughter’s head as she sleeps (she knows this) and I just place a small cross on her head claiming her for the Lord. I do not do this frequently, but there are times when The Spirit wakens me or times when I am led… that I just do as the Spirit leads.
The difference is palpable. We have a very peaceful home. Maybe you can even anoint your parents’ heads as they slumber? It feels as simple as just wisping their hair from their brow. Such an act of tenderness and love is the most that we can give under such circumstances. I hope this doesn’t sound too bold or scary – it’s just a way of using your faith to lay claim to your circumstances and the lives and environments around you. Maybe try?
My father was a Korean War vet, too, and I am sure your father and mine were a lot alike. I grieve with you for your Mom’s uncertainty and the sense of loss. I pray for the steadfastness of your heart and your love for her that it be impossible for her to hurt you with her words. This is a very hard time; however, The Lord can lift this burden and that is what I am going to ask for.
Maybe you can play the music and start picking some wildflowers and bringing them inside? When she questions, you have such an understanding that it is not “her” questioning… it is her mind and memory that is failing. Oh that we could all be guaranteed gentleness as we all age, too!
I am praying for your rest and rejuvenation. Praying that the softness you can bring to this situation to ease everyone can manifest into good memories for you of this precious time in your parents’ nearness to Eternity. I pray that your father will accept the Lord Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior and that you may have that confidence of his eternity with Him.
Bless you friend. In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
Thank you so much – lots of good ideas here. My mother used to anoint all the rooms in my rented apartments. I am going to do this and tell her I have done it & maybe she will receive that. So many good ideas/reminders here and in the below posts. I am keeping screenshots of these comments in a little folder on my phone. I will look into the gummies. Thank you so much – it was like having arms around me reading your words. It is a privilege to get to care for them. God is good.
Maybe she can help you do the anointing?
“Momma, do you remember when you would do this for us? Let’s do it together for Pappa now.”
In unity… prayer throughout your home. May relieve her fears and anxiety where she accuses you.
Let no weapon formed against you prosper.
Yes many loving arms around you and your family, friend.
you are the Balm of Gilead, jwoo. thank you from all of us for this thoughtful post.
I am offering prayers…you are doing God’s work on earth. The forgetfulness is part of dementia…and normal aging….(where are my glasses? Oh wait, am wearing them, LOL)….Don’t let Mom being mean, get to you…it hurts but its sort of a part of it and I am sure if she knew what she was doing, she would be embarrassed. I hope the help is well helpful and that the Lord gives you rest, too, to catch your breath…I relate as my daddy was a Korean vet, too.
You have your hands full…am praying for strength for you. And peaceful days with your parents. And most of all, for Daddy’s Salvation. Our God is an awesome God and He knows what drove your dad to atheism. Your Dad is no less a child of God than anyone else and God loves ALL HIS children.
Thank you – yes, I don’t know what it is but it is a tricky lie. Praying that the truth will be undeniable. I do think the fire & brimstone approach makes him feel threatened & he naturally rebels against coercion. The idea God loves us and wants to be our friend is something he has not heard much. Thank you so much for your prayers and words.
I just wanted to encourage you not to give up, praying that the Lord will renew your strength. I know it can be exhausting sometimes continually praying for someone’s salvation, but I have heard & witnessed some amazing things over the years. God is faithful. The Lord bless you, Mama.
Thank you.
Update on my friend in KY…rehab going good….needs prayers now for some state/federal program money to help get him to his hemodialysis.
Hi Aggie,
Is hemodialysis part of amputation process? Or did he have other health concerns in addition? (I hope I am not confusing folks in my thought process.) Will certainly be praying that his program money will come through. I thought he was a Veteran, am I remembering incorrectly? Ohhhh… I hope this administration is taking care of our veterans – I don’t need ONE MORE reason to be mad at them!
Will certainly keep praying for your friend, Aggiegirl.
Today is get away day for my friend….he gets dialysis and hopefully shortly after, gets discharged…
Let’s lift him up in prayer that it will be successful and that his health will prevail.
Please pray for access to funding from different org’s that are supposed to help people in his position…it seems they ‘talk the talk’ but don’t ‘walk the walk’…money is now an issue until he can get some sort of employment–needs vehicle adapted, ramps, wheelchairs etc…has to figure out transport to community dialysis…(spent his life in construction), Big adjustments coming…unfortunately he lives 300 feet away on the wrong side of a county line, where he would have better access…
I was perusing different types of charities for him as he needs help…I am so disappointed in Catholic Charities. Way too focused on immigrants and abortion–way too single issued. And in some states, transgender stuff…(my own thoughts on that, if you can afford transgender stuff, you don’t need charity?).
And in a special way, I offer prayers for all those here, who pray. God Bless all of you!
Aggiegirl,
Might I make a suggestion – he is a veteran. Get a hold of a local American Legion post near to his home. Ask for suggestions to help your friend – they may be able to provide good resources and help for him. They also often help their veterans in need and one just never knows what can be determined from making the contact.
Maybe the Veteran’s of Foreign Wars, too, though I think the American Legion is a bit more organized and funded.
The dialysis center should be able to offer some advice on shuttle services depending on where he lives.
As for employment – I will pray for a meaningful job for him where he can work in the comfort of his own home – however, I will also pray that he never feel isolated and that this next chapter in his life can be filled with meaning, advocacy, and immense joy in the most miraculous of places.
In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
Aggiegirl,
You might try contacting Catholic Charities and seeing if they have any former volunteers who quit for the reasons you mentioned or for refusing the covid vax/ boosters (which were mandatory in my area). There might be someone out there wanting to help who does not align with their “mission” anymore.
Also, there might be a Thrivent chapter that could help him out.
Praying!
Aggiegirl.
Reach out to The Wounded Warriors Project. Trace Adkins, the country musician, is a huge supporter of this non-profit.
Reach out to Tunnels To Towers. It’s a non-profit started by a NYC business man who lost his firefighter brother in the 9/11 terrorist attack against our country.
Between these 2 organizations, they will be able to help directly and/or lead you to people & organizations that WILL help your friend.
I’ll be praying for you & your friend. Our veterans are owed our sincere gratitude for all they have done & sacrificed for our country!!!
My sister, my only sister and best friend is no longer struggling to breath, struggling to eat, struggling to sleep. Our Lord took her home to be with Him in the early hours of this morning.. Her two year battle with breast cancer is over. I know in my heart that she was ready and didn’t want to go on the way she was feeling. I’m grateful that she died at home – she wouldn’t have had it any other way. It just really hurts my heart and I selfishly feel lost that she’s no longer a phone call away. Lord, I know she is with You and that comforts me greatly…..
I’m so sorry for your loss. You are not selfish at all. We all want to love and be loved in this earthly life as long as possible but of course God has the ultimate love for us.
hoping you find peace
🙏 ❤️
I am so sorry for the loss of your sister. I will pray for you.
Oh MTeresa, I am so sorry for you. I know how much you loved your sister from reading what you wrote about her on these pages. You’re right to focus on her having been ready to go & that it happened at home—these things can be a great comfort when we’re trying to process something of this magnitude. I pray the Lord’s peace that really does pass all understanding would be with you & strengthen you in your time of mourning. God bless you.
May her memory be eternal, MTeresa. I am so very sorry for your loss. She is Heaven’s gain and is living her very best forever life in eternity in her new body which will never feel pain, sickness, or strife again. And she waits there for you to greet you when you have finished your race and you go Home, too. Our job is to finish our races as gracefully as possible.
My heart and my prayers for comfort to you and your family, friend.
Just found out my husband of 29 years has liver cancer and will need a liver transplant within a year.
We’ve lived with his disease for 20 years. It has been stable. Today has always been a possibility in our minds. And here we are.
We are so blessed. Beautiful family, friends…faith. I am afraid tonight. I know God has a plan in all this. I trust Him. Please pray for us. My world has forever changed tonight.
WEM, I’m touched by your words in the face of this adversity. Your faith is strong, & naturally you’ll need it to endure what’s ahead of you. I pray tonight for you & your husband. The days of miracles are not over, & our God is still in the miracle-working business. I pray He would smite that liver cancer & completely heal your husband. I pray for strength for you & your family. May He comfort you with His everlasting peace & love. God bless you.
Praying for your husband and you,Wareaglemom.May you draw on the strength of our Lord,your family and friends to help quell your fears and may your blessings be continued.Amen.
Wareaglemom,
Offering prayers to our Lord and Savior for a successful donor match for your husband. I pray The Lord soothe you and your husband’s understandable fears and that God makes Himself so present to you that you will experience His Perfect Peace. God loves you both so very much and He Is concerned for every tear you shed.
Hold onto each other and enjoy these moments together. Make your memories and live large. I pray you joy and healing in the midst of this storm. May The Lord strengthen your bond and give you both great fortitude throughout.
In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
Praying!
Tuck this idea away for the future…patients who receive liver transplants often need lots of blood products in the immediate post operative phase…consider conversations with the physician and transplant surgeons early on, for directed donor blood products…I have been away from this for a while and don’t know the processes any more…directed donor, if compatible, comes from people you know.
I know someone who survived a transplant like this, for over thirty years.
I am praying, also, for a curative miracle. God Bless all of you…
Hi my dear prayer warriors.
First off my heart felt prayers go out to all of you.
I wanted to give you a quick update on what’s going on with me mostly because of all the prayers that you all have prayed for little ole me.
Let me say that prayer works.
I had a busy week, met with the palliative care doctors, they will help me with any meds to make me comfortable if I need them. They were absolutely wonderful. Just the best, they listened to me about my concerns and assured me that they have my back 😀
Then I spoke with the chemotherapy counselor,hubby was there, mostly about the Ibrance drug that I have been asking God to guide me as to whether or not to take it. Oooo boy, after hearing about the side effects that is not listed on the drugs website it was a HUGE no way. Very toxic. I wouldn’t even be able to give my husband a simple kiss , are you kidding me.
Then a meeting with my medical oncologist. I thought I was going to get pushback from him when I told him I wasn’t going to take the Ibrance. He was actually in agreement with me😀
so only 8 more radiation zaps and I’m done until November, when I get a pet/ ct scan and a bone scan.
I’ll take femara an estrogen blocker, we’ll see how that goes.
on top of all of this I had to have my beloved cat ,Rhiannon, put down yesterday. It was time. As I was signing the paper work, there was a lady waiting to pick up some meds for her dog. She asked me what was wrong with my kitty so we spoke for a minute. After I handed off my cat and came back out to the lobby this wonderful lady gave me a wonderful hug. She purposefully waited to give me comfort. Wow just wow.
over all I feel blessed , really grateful for all of you.
There have been many times in my life that I’ve literally cried out to God wondering why He has forgotten about me. Today I was sitting on the couch and all of a sudden I felt this deep calm and peace.
God’s got us.
Love and peace to you all. Thank you.
Praise God. Thanks for updating us, Eve, & I pray for the Lord to comfort you on the loss of your kitty. 🙁
Thanks Joe, you are the best 😻
There are angels among us, Eve, and I count you as one!
So sorry to hear about your fur purrson and her deliverance over to The Lord. My Heaven simply HAS TO include our beloved pets – they have been so meaningful in our lives. I am grateful for that woman who met you in your time of need when you were taking care of Rhiannon. It does my heart so good to hear of strangers’ kindnesses. Angels are everywhere.
I love that when you were checking side effects – you made giving your husband simple kisses a priority. What love and adoration! How very blessed! Yes, protect those kisses, friend, and those sweet moments with him. And you are protecting YOU and what matters to you – your quality of life. Medicine goes so far and then comes God, right?
I pray you continued peace as you sit in the Lord’s Sonshine. You glow for us through your writing and I am so grateful to hear from you. Others weathering their own storms gain so much from your story of perseverance.
Much love and hugs to you friend, from Central Indiana.
Thank you beautiful JWoo.
I have been blessed with a wonderful team of doctors, nurses and technicians. Angels all.
Yes! I adore my husband. He is everything that a good man should be. He is the one that Rhiannon approached one very cold Christmas Eve day 14 years ago. Hubby was grilling some steaks, and up comes this 5 week old kitten. Stole his heart. So Rhiannon allowed us to take care of him, yes I know it’s a girls name, but that’s another story.
be well
Eve
I love your stories, friend. Blessings to you Bcsurvivor2 (Eve).
I am so sorry for your loss of Rhiannon…Rhiannon will meet you at the Rainbow Bridge. I am praying for you…
St. Peregrine Laziosi, please bring our prayers to Our Lord, the Divine Healer.
Thank you Aggiegirl,
Knowing Rhiannon is with all the other beloved pets and is healthy again is very comforting.
Im glad your friend is home. Just being home is healing.
continued prayers for you and him
Eve
I don’t know where it came from, but just wanted to tell you that your comment “Rhiannon will meet you at the Rainbow Bridge” about a pet who had gone on to the next place really, really touched me. That is beautiful.
I can just picture that Rainbow Bridge with lots and lots of our animal friends waiting there to greet us.
God’s got us”
Thank you BcS. I needed to read that.
I have been praying so hard for something so small that is yet so big.
God has been directing our path years and I’m having trouble understanding why this small hurdle is being placed in a place where it will have such a negative impact on all of our effort to help someone raise up.
You said “There have been many times in my life that I’ve literally cried out to God wondering why He has forgotten about me. Today I was sitting on the couch and all of a sudden I felt this deep calm and peace.
God’s got us.”
That made me cry. God has got us. I pray He heals you completely and that He answers our silly prayer. But thank you for helping me to know He hears us and He’s got us.
Thank you for sharing that.
I’m praying your hurdle be removed or revealed as an unexpected blessing.
My friend is now at home…having trouble navigating wheelchair and carpets…But is doing ok…has an old friend there, helping.
Again, I thank all of you for your diligence in prayers.
Prayers needed for Donny.
Praying that the Lord would touch Donny with His merciful grace.
thank you, Joe. they are much needed. brain bleed caused by fall. even if he lives, he may not be the same Donny.
Praying that your Donny receives the best medical treatment and the doctors are able to stop the bleeding.May our Lord bless Donny and return him to his former self.Asking this through our Savior Jesus Christ,with whom all things are possible.Amen.
Thanks to all for your prayers. Donny able to feed himself and brush his teeth with help. With the aid of a walker he walked down a hall. He does not recognize his family yet but when his wife asked if he knew her he said “no but I’d like to.”
Please pray for me. Lately I have been revisting terrible memories of the deep betrayal, deceit, bald face lies, unfounded accusations against me by my ex-wife, and my church, individually and corporately.
This all ended in 2008. I continued to cling to try to understand until 2010. It was then that I truly let go and gave it to my LORD.
What a burden lifted from me that very second. Hallelujah!
But these last two weeks it seems to occupy my thoughts. It will cripple me. Already it colors darkly my outlook.
Thank you.
God bless you.
Rrick, I believe what you’re facing right now is oppression from the powers of darkness. When oppression comes, remind the devil that he is a defeated foe, & you are a blood-bought child of the Living God. There is nothing he can do to you that God will not allow. Rejoice in your salvation & praise the Lord, speaking your praises out loud. I know it can be hard, but try to fill your mind with thoughts of all He’s done for you & you won’t give place to the evil one to inflict these horrible memories upon you. Take those things back to the foot of the cross & leave them there, for that is where our Lord was victorious over death & hell.
I pray that Jesus will give you strength & help you to have unwavering focus on Him & what He did for us at Calvary. May the schemes of the evil one be destroyed & your fetters fall at your feet. God bless you, brother.
thank you for your words of encouragement, JB. a wonderful wayfayer on CTH referred to the recent onslaught of darkness as a “physical suffocation.” that seems how it is for me, too. Christ has set us free, but, we continue to pray daily that He keeps us in His will–the only safe place to be. God with you, rrick.
He will always be with you and will never forsake you, linwik. Never. God is a Good, Good, Merciful and Just, Father and He loves you with an everlasting love. Forever and ever, world without end. AMEN
Praying in unity for your rrick. You gave it to the Lord in 2010 – it is no longer your burden to carry. You gave it to God – do not take it back onto your own shoulders. Joe Blow is right on and I pray in unity with him for a release from your suffering. In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN.
What a beautiful way with words, JB. Taking those things back to the foot of the cross…beautiful! Jesus never did say it would be easy for us.
Aggiegirl has two favorite prayers….”Jesus I trust in You” and the other is a Holy Command: Satan Be Gone, followed with a Hail Mary.
rrick, I pray for you in a special way as I have gone thru this same sort of thing for over 30 years. Look to your immortal Savior. The ‘church’ on earth, is run by men…men are fallible. And some things, we are just not to understand. Give it back to the Lord and offer your emotional distress to him as a sacrifice. Pray for clarity of mind. And always offer rejoicing and honor to Him.
Think of the joy and colorful beauty of heaven. No darkly outlooks. Rejoice in the Lord.
Pray for your enemies. They are God’s children too…
These last few weeks in general, have been rough on a lot of us, for different reasons. We are praying for your peace.
Prayers please for our Southern California brothers and sisters. They are clueless, as they haven’t had a Tropical Storm hit since 1939. You have to not only prepare for yourselves – but prepare for others who don’t prepare.
Lord, they’re still Your people. Please have mercy on their souls. In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
Praying much, for those in harms way…
Let’s lift up our Treeper Family out west, getting ready to embrace the tropical storm/hurricane.
Dear Lord, please keep them safe…and their friends, neighbors and family. Many may not understand how to deal with this, please give them the ability to discern for their safety.
Praying for a man and a woman on a motorcycle going north on 65 outside of Indianapolis who were just in a serious accident.
An interesting situation….a patient I cared for in or around 1982…was one I cared for last night. She had been a burn patient…we had a nice conversation…the surgical work she had done, has endured over all l these years. She took real good care of herself.
But 40+ years later, she still has PTSD from the house fire. She broke down in tears last night…Please keep her in your prayers…and think too, those poor people in Maui, will probably have this same type of PTSD.
Prayers please for a family that had a huge house fire last evening…in a family area of my town….pretty big local response, 4 other towns came to help. I don’t know the details, but a tragedy no one needs…
I am asking for prayers for my sweet daughter – my dear, sweet, God-loving girl.
She’s been working her job at Chick-Fil-A and it has yielded her great joy. She does a good job there and is paid so little, only about $11/hour… but she was okay with that. They piled hours onto her – no doubt because she’s cheap labor – and now she had a team member who is harassing her and doing so flagrantly and openly in front of her supervisor and other team members.
He has humiliated her, repeatedly. Her manager told him to leave her alone. Her cohorts told him to leave her alone. This kid is a student at her school and apparently on probation at the job for “no call no show”.
She went through the chain of command and reported what was happening – the HR team simply moved him to another department where he continued to harass her – openly in front of everyone.
She resigned her job yesterday. She feels they will do nothing to remedy the situation and she refuses to be disrespected. She said she doesn’t want to work for a company that doesn’t follow its own rules and policies.
Savannah honors the Lord. She greets everyone with a smile.
She tried to deal with this guy by asserting herself and telling him to stop. Even telling him that “today we are going to be nice to each other, Ronney”. He would not relent.
The management there are COWARDS and they actually told my daughter that the middle management there doesn’t respond to employee inquiries because she has “too many employees to manage” and “she can’t handle it and goes home and cries every week.” Yeah.
My daughter is a minor and I made it clear to them that my daughter is not to be made to feel guilty for reporting organizational concerns and that the middle manager’s state of mind was not my daughter’s fault. The issues at the facility were systemic and thus causing the manager’s mental state and why would an HR representative tell my daughter that??? Did the HR Manager really intend to tell my daughter… in so many words… that if she pursued a career at the establishment and went into management, that her future would include being overworked and going home in tears every week? I told them, my daughter’s situation was a derivative of the mismanagement of the facility.
I’ve been sorry to hear of other issues throughout Chick-Fil-A. Sorry to hear about policies of negotiating with the devil. Sure, their public persona is to be closed on Sundays and to honor the Lord, but isn’t that the case of these false Christians who negotiate with the world? Where is our diversity, equity, and inclusion? Or that only applies to some? We know how this game goes.
It was her first job. Please pray for her as she continues to deal with the sad realities of this messed up world.
The devil looms large and he is a lion seeking to isolate and destroy.
Please pray for my daughter. It was her first job. She was saving for her piloting lessons.
I’m so sorry this happened to Savannah. As you said though, the sad realities of a messed up world. The Lord will reward her for her faithfulness & prosper her. I pray for Him to reveal things to her as a result of this experience that will yield fruit in time to come.
As for Chick-Fil-A, I’d just as soon stay away from there altogether. They have chosen the god of this world.
Oh Joe,
It is so sad – it just breaks my heart. It’s not enough that yesterday was such a terrible day for our country – we have to feel it at the closest local, granular level.
We have to stand up and say “NO!” I fear an election won’t be enough – especially when bad actors suppress the voters’ wills and voices. It will not be us fighting this war. It will be our kids, like Savannah, and the result of which will ring out for years and years to come.
Lord, please forgive us our sins and secure for them… their freedom. In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
St. Joseph the Worker, take our prayers to your foster Son and bring peace to this little one of yours.
Let the youngun’ not be discouraged by the inaction and weakness of those above her…surely Lord, this little one is meant for better things…guide her in her quest for suitable employment, if it be thy will. Keep her heart stable, steady and untouched by the disappointments in this world. Lead her to still waters…to the table in front of her enemies…anoint her…Goodness and mercy shall follow her…
St. Joseph of Cupertino, patron saint of airline pilots and air travelers, pray for her.
The nurturing and encouraging work environments are now few and far between, in this once formerly great nation.
There are laws against the hostile work environment?
In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN, Aggiegirl.
Oh – yes, there are lots of laws. If I were not a good and Godly woman, I could sue the mess out of them. However, we know that we live in a country of lawlessness where the good and righteous and true are burned in effigy so what good would it do?
We will just not work for them. We will withhold our blessings. We will not support their lifestyle and not feed their families mouths with our labor or our dollars – whatever our dollars are worth anymore. We will not invest in the fuel that drives them.
Well, I hope that employee can work double duty for the additional work he has caused the staff. Quite a few team members quit due to “not being respected”… it will make their labor quite hard and the demand on the organization is great. You know, those Egyptians demanding to make bricks from straw!
Let’s see what happens to their kingdoms when they negotiate and cohabitate with the devil.
I’m sorry to learn of your daughter’s ordeal…Chick-Fil-A’s loss.Praying that she finds another job soon so she can continue pursuing her dream of becoming a pilot.Amen.
Thank you Casco. We decided to use some of the $2k she saved and she’s going up tomorrow morning. A reminder of her inspiration. Have an idea for a different job. Afternoon project coordinator for the Boys and Girls Club. I would like her to take first aid first before being responsible for the children… but this might be a much better gig… with greater responsibility. Little sisters and brothers she never had of her own… whom she could pour into and minister too. She’s great with little kids. We will see. Stay tuned. God moves us where we are led and if those folks at CFA have any ounce of God in them, they can’t be comfortable with what they’ve done. That’s the Holy Spirit’s work. Amen
I had 3 vertebrae in my back fused in an operation last February. I can still barely walk and am in a lot of pain. God, I ask for healing, in Jesus’ name, Amen.
Had partial disc removed from my neck…took a year to recover and then some. Don’t give up! We are called patients for a reason! Stay calm, be patient. You’ve been through a lot. 🙏
Praying for healing for you, friend. In the precious name of Jesus Christ. God bless.
Praying that your pain subsides,allowing you to walk for the glory of the Almighty.
Hi all,
Im a week out from my last radiation treatment. Pretty much burnt to a crisp and not feeling very well today but I am grateful that the treatment was available for me. I will have a pet/ ct scan on October 30th so we’ll see if if it worked.
Feeling down in the dumps ☹️. 3 weeks ago I had to put my cat Ree down. He had been ill for awhile and it was time. Then my other cat, Felix, had caught a rabbit and started going down hill. Apparently the rabbit was poisoned and Felix’s kidneys shut down so he was also euthanized. I’m just heartbroken 💔
Anyway, prayers for everyone.
love and peace
Eve
I’m so sorry beautiful prayer warriors.
I didn’t and never want to be a downer. I really am very grateful for everything and everyone in my life.
🙏 ❤️
Don’t even worry about it, Eve. I’m grateful too that you’re here sharing your experiences with us. I’m sorry about Felix. That’s tough losing both your cats in so short a time. I pray that the Lord might restore your strength & give you comfort, & that His healing touch is upon you.
Checking in on you, darling Eve. We love you.
I posted on the OT that my two feline boys are being trouble-making dish rearrangers this early morning. They always choose work nights to hold their clangy protests. Fooled them, though… tomorrow is a day off.
May I send them to Auntie Eve for your entertainment???
Furry clowns in a box. It would be my pleasure… really my pleasure!!! Lol
I hope and pray that you will start to feel better soon.I’m very sorry about your kitties passing away.They can be such a comfort during troubling times.May the Lord provide you with solace and may His blessings be upon you.Amen.
Bcsurvivor2,
Maybe we just sit on the curb together and cry a little? I love you, friend.
We’ve never met but I feel you are my sister… and for sure… you are my sister in Christ.
Heavenly and Merciful Father, I pray You lay Your Loving and Healing Hands on Eve and soothe her crispiness. Father, God, we are but mere humans and You Are Diety and this road is hard.
To add insult by losing her beloved pets, Father, it doesn’t seem fair. We commit her precious pets to Your Care until such time as they greet her at Your Gates.
Console our Eve, Father. She loves You so much and she is faithful.
Bring her joy and help her to smile through her tears as these days and these troubles shall pass.
Help us all to be strong and to be there for each other when needed.
In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
Please pray for Carol Lopez who is in Sinai Hospital in Baltimore. Carol had surgery and her blood pressure dropped. Doctors think she had a heart attack. She is on a breathing tube. As I write this, I read that she is now stable in the ICU, but please pray for her recovery. Praise almighty GOD. Praise His Holy name. And His son, Jesus Christ, forever praised.
Amen. Agreeing in prayer for Carol.
Prayers up!
Oh Divine Healer, hear the prayers of the faithful and bring this woman physical strength to breathe on her own and move forward from this ailment. Give her heart the strength to return to normal function and have a smooth recovery while keeping those around her strong and faithful. Amen.
Praying in unity for Carol. In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
Prayer Warriors…please pray for the repose of the soul of the Obstetrician who delivered 2 of my 4 children. He passed away a day or two ago…he was 81. A well loved and respected doctor. What is strange is that he was on my mind a few days ago, too.
He was a very good Polish Catholic physician and again well loved by all his patients. I know his family will miss him.
Sad start for the month of September..Prayers please for my high school friend…just admitted to the hospital for infection and circulation issues in his remaiig leg.
He is majorly depressed, too.
This poor man. Praying for blessing for him in Jesus’ name.
Thank you…my heart is breaking for him. He has diabetes so it is not kind to the circulation…often this happens.
Amen.
Praying, Aggie, praying! Lord have mercy!
Thank you JWoo…he is very depressed…
Aggie,
Who wouldn’t be, can’t blame him at all. His dear, dear soul.
I can only ask The Lord to turn your friend’s eyes toward Him so that God may show him something (anything) to encourage him… however small. To show your friend flickers of hope and joy… and a sense of deep determination and will.
God is not done with him yet, thus he has a deep testimony being formed.
I wonder if you might give him a journal? Encourage him to pour his concerns out to The Lord. I found this practice in my deepest times of stress and need. The Lord can handle our anger, our frustration, our sadness.
And as I laid it all at Christ’s feet through my words… six months later… I could go back and re-read my thoughts… no matter how bitter… and see God’s Delivering Hand in each and every page.
History is so important. Remembering His Faithfulness is so important.
Your friend has a story… and his life is meaningful… though he may not understand it yet.
My prayers for your comfort and his go with you, Aggie. I pray him peace of mind and Spirit.
I’ve never commented on this section of CTH, but I am today to give thanks and testimony.
2 weeks ago, I had a bad spill on my bicycle after a car pulled out in front of me.
I was hurt very bad and bloody and swollen on the right side of my face, and pain throughout my left arm, shoulder, wrist and hand area.
I mentioned it later than evening while commenting on a post Sundance made.
To my surprise, there were many heartfelt prayers of well wishing when I reviewed later.
I am a firm believer in divine intervention on healing because it has happened to me in the past. Most notably, a shoulder surgery 11 years ago where I healed and was able to lift weights again after recovery when I was told that would never happen again; and no pain during recovery. The doctors were baffled at both of those circumstances.
While self treating my current wounds, I prayed intensely for healing.
This past Thursday I went to see the doctor for unrelated reasons and went over the whole thing in detail and showed him pictures of my face right after the accident.
My face is almost completely healed with just faint evidence of the accident and what appears to be no scarring from extreme road rash and swelling around my upper right check and eye socket area.
The doctor appeared amazed.
My shoulder, wrist, arm and thumb while hurt bad (still have some tingling in my thumb and right forearm) appears upon cursory medical evaluation to be a increasingly healing ‘stinger’ (real bad one); and (hopefully continuing) 1 of 4 muscles of the rotator cuff of my repaired shoulder strained but not torn only for the time being. Along with severe pain in my left neck shoulder area abating to almost non existence currently it and appears to be continuing in that direction.
I want to express my gratitude to those well wishers and prayers to those who proffered.
And my testimony is that I fully believe without those prayers and my own heartfelt pleas to the Almighty, I would not be where I am.
By all rights, I should be severely damaged and probably broken up and under serious medical care.
I thank you all and mostly, our Lord and Savior. Amen.
we count on you, Black Knight–that you will always be here with us. and we thank God for His protective hand. may you return to perfect health. amen.
Such a touching tribute to the Lord’s goodness, Black Knight – thank you!
Testimonies of the faithful, like yours, strengthen those who cannot see the sun right now. Or even the “Son.”
God does heal – in His time, His way, and according to His will. He knows best, and our times are in His hands.
I’ve experienced several healings, too, that left doctors mystified – and me in wonder!
So glad you’re on the mend – and here to tell about it! I can imagine the Lord is smiling on you.
Your thanksgiving and praise is a sweet-smelling aroma to Him – the fragrance of Christ…
We need to tell it on the mountaintops what God has done for us!
May God continue to show Himself strong on your behalf.
Blessings …
“Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me.”
Psalm 50:15
🙏🏻🙏🏻
Praise God for that! The Lord bless you, BK.
What a Great, Powerful, and Loving Father we serve! So glad to hear you’re doing so well, Black Knight. May you continue to improve and exceed expectations every day forward. Blessings, friend.
It is right to give Him thanks and praise.Be well BK.Amen.
I will pray for your rotator cuff….that there is no further injury…
Lord, please bless our Black Knight with ongoing healing and recovery. In a special way, keep his rotator cuff repair in good shape so there is no further injury. And Lord, we thank you for the healing he has received. Amen.
I gotta ask….how is the bicycle?
Hello Black Knight,
I too never comment on the prayer thread. Just read you post and would like to wish you a speedy recovery.
God Bless you, if you don’t mind. I too will pray for you.
God Bless 🙏🌺🙏🌺
Aspen
Another prayer request for the repose of a dedicated soul:
A retired nun, who was the principle of a school where my kiddo’s went to…Sister Rita.
Hi – Please pray for my dad Victor, who is 91. I live in Cleveland, and am his DPOA, and just got a call from his veterans home in NH. They said he was (sorry to be graphic) throwing up red with clots. They said his vitals were normal, and he was alert and verbal, but they are calling 911 and getting him to the ER to get to the root of what’s causing it. Please pray for God’s healing – that it is false evidence appearing real, and something simple with a non-invasive fix, in Jesus’ name. Thanks for your prayers!
Praying that the Lord would touch your dad with His healing power & that the doctors can figure out what’s going on. The Lord bless you, Linderella.
Thanks so much, Joe — the Lord bless you, too!
Prayers…Oh Divine healer, please stop the bleeding and the cause. Bring this faithful elderly man healing, peace and welllness. Bring comfort to the family who is far away. Guide the doctors and nurses in your holy way.
Amen.
A general prayer for all the Catholic schools that are struggling in post covid or for other financial reasons such as limited Diocesan funding due to the lawsuits against pedophile priests.
The school I went to way back…closed in 2021. Such fond and wonderful memories of the education and the nuns. Our priests were strict, we avoided them! In this case the Diocese was declaring bankruptcy…don’t know details….
Anyway, there are good schools out there and they too must be struggling and could no doubt use a few prayers.
Prayers for all schools and teachers diligently teaching Godly values!
Dear Heavenly Father,
Today will be painful for many of our fellow countrymen and women, on this anniversary of an attack on our nation. We thank You for having blessed us with a nation that, in many ways, honored You. Please forgive us for failing to always honor You. Please give us government and fellow citizens who honor You and do Your will; please help us to see our failings and repent. Please comfort the families and friends of those whose lives were taken, and those whose lives were tragically changed. Please remind them that You love them and never stopped loving them. Please help us to show Your love to them.
You see the beginning from the end. Your plan is for Your children to spend eternity with You, whatever the earthly cost, and that cost included Your own Son’s life. Please, strengthen the faith of Your children, and help us to be a light in a dark world.
We ask this in Jesus’ holy name, Amen.
Okay Treeps, this is insanely long, and I beg your forgiveness for that. I owed you all an over due status report on a previous request three year ago and to offer thanks for the many miracles that transpired in consequence, and an explanation of the mess I am in health-wise. I could not ask for prayers on the latter until I had reported on the former . . .
The cat came out of the bag Friday during the Rally when I let slip that I’m in a bad way, and that put the pressure on me to get to it. Because I was in a bad way, but committed to participating in the Rally, I sorta overdid it with the caffeine and such, and utterly lost track of time and got a mite carried away as I responded to an email from Ad rem. Je parle trop.
So many stories I’ve had none to share with, and regarding this missive as a conversation, on top of the prayers offered Friday on my behalf, have actually begun helping me mentally chart a path forward, at least the beginning of one, though that will never succeed on the strength of my own strength nor of my own prayers alone, so here I am.
Again, this is a bit of a tome, if you don’t have the time to read it all I understand and no worries, at base I simply need Heaven’s help in getting a bit of brain surgery from a system remarkably adept at feigning incompetence, and that’s enough data really to ask for your intercession, consider the following a found diary of a not so mad man, and read it or don’t. I did receive authorization to post it, realizing how bonkers it was I just had to ask, I was afraid I might break something. Love you all.
Dearest Treepers,
Only Heaven can move the heartless bureaucracy that is the VA and the legions of myopic time servers they employ.
Prayers are welcome, I am long overdue a missive on the Prayer Thread, have long felt I needed to account for the blessings you have all already bestowed upon me, though the voyage to freedom came at great cost and losses that I should have recognized long before they fully manifested, and it’s a painful confession for which I feel deep shame, having no means to bless my child other than to have essentially abandoned her to the mentally ill mother who made her ill in turn; for a contest over the child, even that inherent in simply remaining in her life and interacting with her constitutes in her deeply disturbed mother’s mind the greatest of threats, and she would destroy the child to “protect” her from me. Unintentionally, or, as is possible with Borderlines, intentionally, literally, destroy the child.
The brutal reality of Borderline Personality Disorder. Solomon’s test to discover the actual mother of a disputed child comes to mind; only the parent willing to lose the child to save it is worthy of raising the child, but in a cold blind society obsessed with single motherhood and with delusional fantasies about the wisdom of foreign exotics such as I was bound to, no such diviner of truth was to be found, and it falls to me to make the choice to spare my child being torn apart by her mother’s implacable rage in the only way I can. I’ve offered a missive on BPD in a couple of threads today including the New Mexico thread and the Presidential, it is a burden of my life from the moment of my conception, but it is my honor to share what I have learned, Heaven’s lessons can be difficult, but they are often precious and meant to be shared to bless others.
(I promise I will finally arrive at my medical circumstances and my needs as I understand them, but I have been composing in my mind my obligatory and long overdue report on my survival of my Once Beloved and her spawn and I am eager to settle that debt before I incur another.)
I find myself alone on a third of an acre in an HOA, keeping the home I purchased for a family that is no more because I am too broken to move to anything but a chemically safe home, which is exceedingly rare, and I am without strength or assistance to do so anyway, and I am uncertain of what needs may come that might bear on the nature or location of said home. That I have retained my home is both a blessing and a curse.
The small portion of the home where I have had to essentially barricade myself for a decade is relatively safe, the remainder has been poisoned by my last BPD and her spawn, willfully in order to harm me, and reclaiming it all and effecting renovations of their destruction is a challenge, though it is a fairly nice home in a nice neighborhood in a nice city with nice people, with the exception of terrible neighbors that absorbed her poison, not that they weren’t very off people to begin with, they aren’t from around here and it shows. If I am lucky, President Trump will return to begin the Restoration of our Republic and monetary circumstances and the housing markets will be sufficiently restored to make the transition possible and not unduly financially difficult.
Unfortunately, my neighbors are very unkind, very long story exacerbated by my last BPD, and they refuse to offer me the simple kindness of ceasing to use poisonous laundry fragrances in their dryer, it smothers my property, the prevailing wind even ensures it enters my home if I risk opening a window, keeps me unable to work outside in the few moments I might find myself otherwise able; they actually redoubled their use of such after I reluctantly made my plea to them, and laugh at me as I strive to avoid interacting with them for fear of provoking them to entertain greater cruelties; I erred in revealing my Kryptonite to my local Lex Luthors.
These are both nurses, one works for the VA, the other a high level RN at a prominent local hospital, as heartless and conceited neighbors as one could never hope to find, they have literally comically wandered past me just feet away pretending not to see me on my knees struggling with weeds and rocks my predecessors bequeathed me whilst whilst cheerily holding aloft their white wine spritzers in long stemmed glasses to meet the neighbors on the other side approaching with their local brewery favorites, I couldn’t make this up if I tried! No authority exists to persuade them to consider being kind instead. I know this sounds silly to many people, but it is literally crippling to me, one whiff and I am done, the functional equivalent of a migraine, a gratuitous grenade direct in the fore-brain with a brutal blast of cognition destroying darkness that ends my day and lays me out with no hope of productivity or functionality, but it is an entirely different etiology than typical migraines that drives it, something that so few medical professionals are capable of understanding that it is easily maddening if one isn’t convinced that Heaven’s timing has a purpose and who have been blessed by waiting upon that timing. I am hoping I have one more miracle in me in that regard, akin to my escape from my Once Beloved BPD Extraordinaire.
Borderlines, like many severe mental illness afflicted souls, are profoundly isolating, victims are tarred, the BPDs move on to other victims, anyone in the victim’s circle has heard more lies and seen more destruction and more law enforcement vehicles and ambulances than they can process as anything but condemnatory of the victim, as no one out-victims a BPD, and they make the most convincing helpless and harmless victims a do-gooder has ever seen, every White Knight and Kindly Karen kneels over for sweet helpless BPDs, and the best do-gooders know well how to punish those they are conditioned to see as bad guys. Even decent relatively kind hearted folk naturally come to fear the victim of a BPD, people just cannot process the unreality of the fruit of such broken minds and safety is always sought via distance, doubt will ever rule their perceptions, recovery is exceedingly rare in this regard, withdrawal by the victim is virtually mandatory, and assuredly most desired!
My Once Beloved has destroyed my family, destroyed my friendships, destroyed my relationship with my former faith family, and convinced some self-satisfied neighbors that cruelty that would shame the Hatfield and McCoys is funny and virtuous; and I have spent myself in her and her children’s blessing despite my health issues and am now in a fragile state with not a soul to turn to except my beloved Treehouse Family. The VA is a cruel joke. I weeks ago appealed for any kind of assistance in finding a way to manage living independently, in home care or assistance, aid in finding helpers I can trust; I could never survive a group home or an apartment or any situation where the likes of my fine upstanding medical community neighbors would have full reign over my well being and care. Between their example and the Plandemic, I know I could never accept such accommodations while I have breath in me, it would be preferable to expire in a van down by the river.
I am blessed. I have hope, I am the beneficiary of blessings unimaginable, I have been led out of the Lions Den, one step at a time, rarely seeing the step beyond that, but knowing when and where to step and Who was directing it, and that in time, the next step would be made known to me, I am free, I am alive, I am not destroyed or imprisoned or yet expired and I embrace no despair. I am not bitter, angry, vengeful, nor even filled with regret, I got through a real hard spot, and I hope Heaven has a place for me yet in this world, I surely know I have purpose here and am happy to fulfill that as I am able, both at the Treehouse and in the increasingly limited opportunities I have outside my home where I share the Treehouse and my passion for history, language and music and fast zany cars, and sometimes the endless inventions that once kept me so occupied writing them down that I sometimes could do little else during my waking hours.
I have no strength to bring such ideas to fruition now, and limitations few could comprehend, and while it seems dubious I ever will build them, I haven’t given up yet, some of them are just too cool, and I still have some tools that the Air Force is in dire need of, I have an entire binder of designs I wasn’t able to complete and blueprints for a tool that generations of Airmen would love me for if I could get it into their hands, though the name they would surely assign to it would be quite NSFW though certainly humorous, form follows function and this tool would spare much pain and trouble and make aircraft operation much much safer, GIs have their ways with naming things. I still have the prototype for a tool that saved an entire aircraft program, though the defense contractor involved stole it after I departed that base, they wouldn’t admit that they had screwed up the throttle rigging process for a new engine six ways from Sunday that forced me to dig through the blueprints and design the tool to keep pilots from crashing or running out of fuel while repeatedly trying unsuccessfully to land a difficult plane that mysteriously demanded to remain airborne. I fear one bird and one pilot that had subsequently been lost had happened before they adopted it on the sly.
Back to the recent chaos. I owe no alimony and my child support is not crippling and will end in a couple of years. While my premature expiry would profit them for a time, the lifetime profiting thereof was thwarted by her own arrogance and intransigence and the VA’s incompetence, she will not eat off of my substance for her entire life as she may suspect and she cannot thwart that happy circumstance, one of many “accidents” I ascribe to Providence, her cupidity will not sustain her. While she had disappeared, hiding our child, and forced me to pay off the car debt she was assigned responsibility for, and forced me to expend considerable funds to retain and possess my home that I was awarded, because she refused to sign the quit claim deed even as she sat in my lawyer’s office, hoping to make me homeless and lose my dozen years of investment both physical and financial in the home, she failed to make me homeless. It did come close, I struggled to settle the loan modification process my mortgage forbearance process required as she had denied me both the quit claim deed and needed document signatures, and I received more than one notice prominently featuring the words bankruptcy and foreclosure, all solely due to her malicious intransigence.
The cost of fighting to keep my own home and paying off her car was a pittance in light of all the additional monies that she could have sought to extract from me in the way of support in this failing economy, even as her instability all but ensures her employment situation remains tenuous, yet she daren’t approach the courts to seek increases as she is still and will always be hiding from the law to avoid addressing the debts she created in refusing to obey the courts. Her cruelty and perfidy are serving me well in that respect, and I will make no effort to recover those funds as long as she does not go at me for more monies, it was a very well spent ten grand even if it was difficult at the time.
BPDs are powerfully dangerous and persuasive, but not necessary wise or strategic, and I can’t attribute the consequences and final outcomes to my own wisdom and foresight either, though I did seek to be just and do right throughout, Heavenly Father has blessed me more than I deserve. I stand witness to and beneficiary of a great miracle; few men escape and survive a powerful BPD who has forged of her progeny a Sociopath, a Borderline/Schizo, and a Borderline/Trans. I define the power of a BPD by how effectively and completely she destroys her children and produces another generation of BPDs and even worse. Another scale is how effectively she can twist others into destroying her object of ire. My Once Beloved is, on those scales, the most powerful BPD I’ve ever known, I’ve known many, and I survived, sorta, mostly, I hope.
Goodness, the miracles are too numerous to recall in a single sitting! The timing with the Plandemic was perfect! I had to call my mortgage company and beg a deferral due to my legal costs, they put me on Plandemic relief and I didn’t even know what that was or that they did so, but it enabled much financial capacity that I would otherwise not have had. I was able to find a tiny car to replace the fuel guzzling monster I couldn’t afford to fuel as I recognized the Obama energy scheme aborning, and despite being tight and barely getting a loan, that same credit union the dealership used called shortly after and offered me a $20K low interest card that came in mighty handy. I spent a great deal on legal and such, many tens of thousands, doesn’t matter, I’m still standing, barely, but for now it will do.
I struggled to find a lawyer, didn’t know how, didn’t click with those I tried, got a recommendation from a process server I hired to deliver my first legal responses to her super scary lawyer, boy was she mad at me, they tried to destroy me with a chumped up protection order and I did a reverso on them, demanded they reverse the process and apply such an order to them all, she didn’t like that. That was pretty much the extent of my own legal adventurism, I really needed a lawyer beyond that, and am glad I did. I went to that referred lawyer and he agreed to take me on, with a hearing due the very next day. None of that was fun, but it worked out, this was the right lawyer, he ended up keeping me in my home mostly because I couldn’t arrange anything else, despite her Pro Bono charity on the side scary otherwise very expensive lawyer out for blood on behalf of the poor beautiful helpless African BPD who couldn’t speak English (because she refused to let me teach her) my lawyer was able to wrangle with her on a personal-professional basis and accomplish what I never could have in court.
He helped me keep my home in a maneuver that even he had never done and didn’t know certain would even work, and I returned the favor with a detailed missive explaining the very convoluted and detailed process required to execute such an order from the court divesting an intransigent spouse from a title and assigning it to the rightful court ordered owner. In that process, as she appeared for the first and only time before him in his own office, she raged and raged and obfuscated and sought to impune me and betray all my imagined sins and refused to perform the long over due and exceedingly simple act of signing the half page quit claim deed she was ordered to sign, and in the process she made one terrible beautiful mistake; it turns out that my lawyer’s birth mother was a Borderline, something he hadn’t revealed to me even though I wrote extensively documenting and proving to most any that she was such, but in that moment he knew it was true and told me as much.
In a war with the unreality of a Borderline and the world of chaos they create, a powerful unimpeachable authority that recognizes and knows the truth of her broken mind is utterly priceless. She doesn’t realize it, but she would be extremely wise to keep as great a distance from me as possible for her terrible secret is no longer a secret known to me alone.
Her own sorta hoity-toity high end lawyer, doing Pro Bono for the creds, knows it too, more on that down thread. In a rather tragic and ironic turn of events, my long lost daughter from my first BPD, lost when she was eight years old, returns, via a phone call, works to establish a relationship again, mostly for her own emotional support as she, as my first BPD’s youngest child, is, naturally, herself a Borderline, though I did not initially recognize that, and I stupidly, as I am BPD raised, my mother’s eldest child, and eldest male child at that, is wont to do, as it is what I was taught to do, thought how wonderful it was to have my long lost daughter back in my life, thinking the life lesson was that sometimes the sacrifice to save a child lost to a BPD is rewarded by the child returning, only that was the wrong lesson . . .
Turns out she had engaged behind my back with my last family. Ever lonely, born feeling abandoned without respite, despite having four sisters, her own husband and child who she had demanded be kept secret from me, the stinker, with her mother a very short distance away, decided she had to intrude on my family on the specious attachment with a half sister she never knew, and had in her anger at me for not complying with earlier demands that went far beyond the many thousands I had given her to get her life in order, had told them lies from her mother, terrible lies, stupid irrational completely irrefutable lies I had never heard before, but sufficiently destructive to my case to saving my own daughter from her mother, by fighting for sole and exclusive custody on the basis of the destruction her mentally ill mother had and would create, not to mention her equally ill siblings, that I had to abandon my ill-considered though heartfelt and honorable quest.
I found out when my Once Beloved’s lawyer produced a text my first daughter sent to my family behind my back claiming that her mother told her that I had broken every bone in her neck. Well, I was in the military at that time, had I even left the lightest mark on her, which I never even tried to do of course, I would have likely lost my career, if what she claimed was true in full, I would likely still be in Leavenworth, and I can’t even imagine how anyone could accomplish such an injury even if they tried to and had every means they could devise at their disposal, it was ludicrous, but I already had my poor health against me, and while the criminal charge against her was sufficient to force her to years of treatment, which was not in and of itself assurance that government functionaries would properly conclude she was and unsafe and unsuitable parent, but that tipped the balance considerably.
My first daughter admitted it was assuredly an untrue assertion and apologized the apology of the caught, but refused to even provide a minimalist testimony to refute it, claiming fear of a miscarriage, breezily declaring I could surely deal with it with no problems, and I concluded two things, that at least ten to fifteen thousand dollars of my investment in the direction of saving my daughter and all the efforts therein to include an incredible amount of writing and legal effort were to no avail and I had no choice but to withdraw; the second conclusion was that the correct lesson in my first BPD raised daughter coming back was that a child lost to a BPD will never truly come back, they will always be a psychological extension of, victim of, and agent of their mother, a clinging attention and resource hungry destructive adult with an utterly dysfunctional life they imagine will be complete if only they can make one more victim love them, or else, with a generous side of get even for Mom.
I had to apply that lesson to my calculations regarding the child that was only temporarily in my hands to be, as I imagined it, saved by my efforts to free her from certain destruction, a certain destruction that I came to recognize was already complete, for the betrayal of the first daughter was topped only by that of the daughter I was trying to save at that moment. Again, my Once Beloved’s scary lawyer produced a text message, this one from my second and last child, declaring that I had menaced her with a weapon. I had already overlooked so much evidence of the harm done to her, but at that moment she lost the ability to play me for attention and for paying for fun, evidence I had sought to suppress, squashed the hopes that I had exalted very probably beyond reason, overwhelmed all my efforts to bless her and I had to come to terms with a hard reality.
Part of that hard reality is that she has been secretly inculcated and inducted into the Transane Cult. My beautiful Metisse child with her wild mane of gorgeous hair was determined that she would be happy if only she was a boy and she butchered her hair, marked herself from head to toe with a sharpie, reminiscent of the scars her brother produced on himself with a blade, and obscenely vandalized her room with noxious spray paint that I still smell and suffer from to this day. She was fourteen years old, a child, but more than old enough to decide that she was obliged to destroy her father on behalf of her mother, an old tired story I knew all too well and could abide no more.
She was clearly encouraged in this Transanity by her Sociopath elder sister, mid-twenties, racist as Hell, hateful, monstrous, dangerous, violent and prone to fits of destructive rage, slashed one of my tires years ago, menaced me regularly, and was an eternal dark cloud that sucked the Spirit out of any place she occupied, and clearly more than pleased to encourage her in the ways of Transanity as that would be so fun and give her serious Woke Cred and would be so harmful to me. Part of letting my daughter go was removing their incentive to destroy her. Their greatest incentive was in separating us, in doing me harm, being able to demonstrate they and only they love her because only they accept who she really is, and I could only prevent that either by having exclusive custody of the child, or by giving that child up utterly and completely to the degree that they never again feared I would take her or even so much as visit her, and subsequently lose their enthusiasm for her destruction, it is my continual prayer that this is so.
My lawyer cautioned against giving her up legally and openly in our initial efforts to resolve the reversal in the case before us, I would lose too much, the courts would punish me, because they care so much about the well being of children that they think neither parent should ever bow out even when that is the only way to save the child. Even though they were consigning her to a life with a Borderline with none to aid her, a situation so dire that I had to allow her to be taken and to have minimal arrangements for visitation that could not possibly be enforced and would never be abided for her mother is not only a Borderline, but is literally borderline insane, she’s irrational in the extreme, she cannot be constrained by reason and the state would never apply force to the matter and I would risk life and limb in attempting to exercise said rights, not to mention assure great emotional harm to the child in consequence of the mental anguish and rage of her mother, a woman who phoned her child every five to ten minutes if she was with me in the same house but on a different floor from herself. I have seen that woman in psychotic states, the only person to ever draw my blood, on the floor convulsing so violently that she appeared to be hovering several inches above it, ice cold to the touch, like a cadaver, another ambulance ride and hospital overnight, whereafter the physician declares I have nothing to worry about, she just has a severe personality disorder, joy.
So I had to effect sole maternal custody indirectly, by not fighting the fact that she would try to disappear with the child and would retain her at all costs and impose such a crippling emotional and psychological burden upon the child that her very existence was in danger, and my daughter already had made suicidal noises and I had engaged therapy for that too, which her mother fought to thwart, and despite being ordered to continue it, promptly cut the sessions short even though I was on the hook for the costs. A BPD cannot risk another defining any portion of their reality for them, cannot risk exposing the instability and terror that reigns in their hearts, cannot permit any other to interact with their child in a fashion that might expose their unsuitability for parenthood, cannot permit anyone to even potentially speak contrary to the narrative they are determined to drive into their child’s mind.
My Once Beloved believes she has stolen my child from me, and she has, but she does not know that I let her do so to save the child, to the extent possible in this sad destructive social and legal environment in the most insane period of our nation’s existence in the midst of a Communist Coup intent on destroying children and families, and she will never know, and that suits me fine, she needs to continue to hide, to stay out of my sight, to never cross my path, to believe that she must never again menace me or risk another arrest, it’s the way it has to be.
She was seeking to destroy me financially and take everything I had or would ever had. She was encouraged in that and as a Borderline believed she had the right to destroy the man that dared take her child from her. Her terrifying lawyer, seriously, I never met the woman, because of the Plandemic, another miracle, I barely ever set foot in court, never faced my Once Beloved or her terrifying lawyer, never got poisoned by the airborne detritus of an endless stream of smokers and junkies and fragrance fanatics that would have destroyed me before I got a word in or had even sat down; never endured the heat that was not even evident to normal people but would have induced heatstroke in my poor brain; and, again, I never had to meet the scary lawyer who Zoomed with a very low set camera in an oddly lit room lacking only a flashlight below her face to complete the horror effect, it was almost comical, and God saved me from all of that.
I Zoomed every court hearing lying in bed, prone or near to it, with my silly any position computer that I only completed just as this final fiasco began, with my brain on ice, and most everyone else was in court, but oh, it was funny. Despite having picked up rudimentary English essentially against her will as she refused to let me teach her English and she and her unwell children broke our agreement to speak French at home with an emphasis on learning English and instead spoke German in order to exclude me and to oppress me as I find it an intolerable language and I have ought with the German people, I suffered mightily at their hand, on behalf of my Once Beloved no less, and they knew it. Anyway, they had to have an interpreter on hand for her, in court and on Zoom, and unlike the years I interpreted for her in real time wherein it was not necessary for the speaker to pause, where conversation flowed naturally, they had to pause between someone speaking, the interpreter interpreting, and I must say I felt she did a fine job of it, but it was via Zoom, which is already as awkward for protection orders and divorce nightmare procedures as it is, and it took up so much time and frustrated folks, but not me, I was doing fairly well, despite the evident danger of a disingenuous and obviously biased female magistrate well known for crucifying men, at least I was a dozen miles away, and it slowed the process to my benefit, forced multiple hearings instead of a single one.
Regarding language issues with my Once Beloved Family, things were complicated.
When I got my family to America, after a five year separation created by Germans who literally kidnapped my family and forced me to go into hiding after my medical retirement for the ninety days I could remain in country by virtue of my passport so I could see my wife and child every day, dodging cops and functionaries and searching for a tail when appropriate, it was whack, I flew out at the last possible moment, simply went to the flight terminal and jumped on the next military jet hopping the pond; my daughter was only four months old at that time. I will never forget the moment I had to walk away to jump on a plane.
She was five when I next saw her, she spoke almost only French, but her Sociopathic sister promptly convinced her mother to speak only German, or sometimes Lingala when they wanted to hide their talk from my daughter, which frightened her at that young age, and my daughter ended up forgetting French for the most part, she gets it when I speak it but won’t even attempt to respond in it, a tragic loss as I see it. My Once Beloved, for her part, not only refused to install the expensive language software I bought for her or let me teach her English, she never taught me a single French word, not one, not even when I asked what such and such a word should be; she only taught me German swear words, via direct application. My life should be a Tragicomedy, it’s almost ludicrous the bizarreness of it all. To top off the highlariousness of the language bit, I was half deaf while my screaming spouse was in residence, I struggled to hear French properly, yet, almost immediately after her departure, my hearing was restored in full, I have no need of my hearing aids, and my language acquisition skills have never been greater, though I did in her long painful presence gain the capacity to argue at volume and speed in French with a crazy African woman, not that I intend to use that any time soon . . .
So, yes, Germans kidnapped my wife’s children while we were in the hospital having our own baby. They are kind upstanding people that justly look down on those brutish Americans, and they had invested so many years using my Once Beloved and her children as their pets that they absolutely had to betray her and kidnap her children and extort her to leave her husband and stay with them while they filed false charges and sought my imprisonment and destroyed my plans to retire right there in Germany to keep my family in the home they had known for so long, all their lives in the children’s case.
That story alone I could write a book on, it’s terrifying, abominable, and so very very German. If you want to be horrified, to get a glimpse of what our society is spiraling into, simply search Jugendamt, read a few stories, and anyone with a heart would recoil, I then understood the strange people that formed my difficult hard hearted father. I have many reasons to have chosen my Treeper moniker, a great and ongoing battle with cruel Germans, and their American heirs and counterparts, is a vital part of my personal psychology, a testament to my commitment to resistance to those capable of unimaginable cruelties which I have known up close and personal; not to overlook my favorite uncle’s favorite uncle, interred an hour north of my home, in Henri Chappelle Cimitere Americain, cut down by Nazis at nineteen, visiting him was my favorite Sunday drive, and an honor as the first of the family to do so, his grave is lovingly tended by successive generations of Belgian families, in a fashion I could only dream of in this land in this day.
My best friend, a German, convert to my then faith family, best friend ever and forever, when asked to interpret a legal missive sent me by my spouse’s captors, observed the lawyer’s contact information and like a Good German, without my knowledge, contacted him, got put in touch with the captors, then joined them, offering such support as he was able, most particularly information he felt he understood regarding my financial situation as the kidnappers were surely not going to support their captives on their own dime! He went on to threaten me at Church and harass my family at Church, mostly in support of his new German tribalist friends that had taken a dislike to the man that took their pets away. Yes, I picked them up and brought them to Church, at risk to myself, to the great fury of the kidnappers, but they could only go so far as they could frighten or deceive my Once Beloved, and I was prepared to evade pursuers, so I persisted.
It took great effort to persuade the person putatively leading that particular congregation of my former faith family to intervene and demand my former best friend cease harassing my family at Church, I knew I had no choice but to escape to America and fight to bring them here, and they, newly homeless by virtue of their kindly captors, would need the assistance of the Church not to mention their continued fellowship, and I would not be there to protect them and that would seem a fairly reasonable demand to make of any Church leader one would think, but it wasn’t easy. When the meeting finally transpired, in the official’s office, by wife by my side, my baby daughter in my arms, my former best friend admonished in the most mincing, timid, and mild terms imaginable, he said he would comply but stood and swore that if he ever heard from the captors that I had dared insult them in any fashion that he would kill me.
Yeah, that’s Germany, and my other best friend had just fled the country himself, losing three beautiful daughters warped beyond belief by his own Borderline German spouse, having, with my assistance, obtained testimony from German citizens that should have preserved his ability to remain in country with his beautiful home and preserve his relationship with his daughters, having taken that testimony to the highest court in that land, literally the highest family court in Germany, he received a decision against him in the mail two weeks later, with a helpful transcript of all the proceedings to include the testimony of his witnesses, which the court had falsified to pervert their testimony into condemnation of the man and obfuscation of facts favorable to the man they came to support. That’s Germany. I love their cars, and their roads, the scenery and the ruins, the proximity to Francophone lands, but their society is an absolute terror, Germans live in fear of each other, still, and that has had a profound influence on my family too.
My Once Beloved’s children are born directly from Africa, Congo to be precise, but born and raised in Germany, then brought here as teenagers at great expense and effort on my part, and they have literally fully absorbed the worst of three continents. They are as German as can be, as limited as first generation African immigrants anywhere could be with the very real prejudices of that land, and eagerly soaked up Obama’s parade of hate and racialism and all the Woke Madness. Oh, and they are seriously mental, dangerous as all get out, and they haven’t gone back home, wherever that might be. Personally, I don’t care where they go, I will only feel truly comfortable with them out of the country with no hope of return, but I daren’t pray for that for it could come at the cost of their having brought me more harm from which they cannot legally escape, harm I might not survive, and they are entirely capable, I have seen the worst of every one of them, they are dangerous.
Fortunately, my charity having been fully exhausted, the potential for hope of a future reunion with my own daughter is fully shattered by the reality that she is far more damaged and far more dangerous than my first daughter who foolishly empowered those that took my beloved Metisse child from me. Understanding that helps me endure the loss, I freely admit there may be a lot of burial and avoidance here, but there is simply nothing to be done for it, Heaven has granted me a view of four generations of Borderlines and the understanding to bear them no ill will and the peace to know that walking away is the only way to protect the child and my own self. I frankly haven’t discussed this with anyone really, only in my mind as I contemplating composing my overdue report to those whose prayers were so essential to my escape and recovery, which is only about half done, lucky you!
So instead of going to trial, I told my lawyer to switch gears and offer dropping the charges against her in exchange for going to mediation. It took a lot to get him to switch gears, we were going for a Guardian Ad Litem and all, the full banana, a lot of work was flushed away with that, but it had to be done. So it happens, going to do mediation, she liked the idea of not going to Court Ordered reformation processes and violence counseling for two years. We got a great mediator with a great reputation, my lawyer likes him a lot, I did too. This is where it gets good. My lawyer has already spoken with her lawyer, they are pretty well understood what all parties are to expect from, can expect from mediation, and by this time her lawyer already wants nothing to do with a trial with this particular Pro Bono client, and it gets better.
So, this should take an hour. I, happily, am in bed, with my brain on ice, literally, I sleep on ice, can’t keep my room cool enough, soak my head on a regular basis, and I am absolutely thrilled not to be there. I can say with absolute assurance that there are aspects of our reality that science will never understand or recognize, and one of those is that a raging Borderline can create a psychic field so dark and forceful that you can sense it on approach, you can feel it, can feel it diminish your soul, and feel your entire being urge you to flee. When a pair or three hooks up in a group rage fest? I call it a Coven Meeting, I think I could feel one from space. That’s exactly what I dodged by not being physically present for mediation, and what hit her lawyer square in whatever functions as her feelz.
It’s all very straight forward, all very fair and reasonable, but this is not what my Once Beloved signed up for. She wanted to destroy me, she wanted to live as she please with everything provided, and it was everyone else’s job to make that happen, but it didn’t. She was screaming and raging. I couldn’t hear her, but the mediator remarked many times what was going on and wondered how I survived it, and of course my lawyer was conferring with me between exchanges with her lawyer.
A one hour meeting was strung out to FIVE hours. I was in bed on ice, no worries. My Once Beloved fled the building. That’s right, her scary, staid, prim, high status lawyer was reduced to chasing her crazy Pro Bono charity case client down the street and persuading her to come back. It was glorious.
In the end, I had to pay for the entire session instead of splitting it per arrangement, the final concession to clinch the deal, then it was done. What fun.
I waited several months for my papers, long story, but by the time I finally got provided all my divorce papers, I was days away from it being final. More fun.
Then began the process of trying to cooperate on certain property negotiations, the vast majority of which I offered her, almost the entire contents of the home, my only criteria was that none of them could ever enter my home nor even be on the street supervising the operation; they had to arrange mutually agreeable surrogates to supervise the process, and they could hire or beg a crew, but those I would deal with and who would be accountable to she and I would be a mutual acquaintance whom she had not already made an open enemy to me; a perishingly short list, but I had some suggestions, and I had to make those suggestions over and over again for months on end, with no response whatsoever.
Turns out she had so traumatized her scary lawyer that she dropped her client as fast as she could. What fun.
I still have her stuff, too, and I had packed it ALL years ago, to seal the chemicals and to minimize the difficulty of a swift removal from my home. Eventually one of my lawyer’s people suggested I just get rid of it. Many months later I concluded I must, so I began, it was all trash anyway, literally, you’ve never seen anything like it, entire rooms were made impassible with worthless stuff made treasures because she imagined some day she could afford to sent it to Africa. Sigh. By the time I got the pile way down, they called my lawyer and demanded their stuff! Ha! Argh. Yikes. Turns out she waited to reveal her location when she had finagled enough help from who knows in order to secure a dwelling in a gated community. Must be nice. Except I can’t get a mover to get the stuff and negotiate with her on getting it through the gate on her time schedule and wishes, and I cannot call an outfit out and send them cold to deliver to her even if I hadn’t thrown the worst of it away already, she is guaranteed to rage, they are guaranteed to assault the movers and menace them, and I wouldn’t be surprised to be the recipient of a friendly drive by shooting either. So, fun! The entire downstairs family room is mostly still occupied with such, very much wish to dispose of it, can’t contact them as they will go insane. Direct contact is a Pandora’s box I never want to open, never want to see opened.
The court order stipulates that any offense to the peace of the other constitutes grounds for re-imposition of protection orders, referencing the one the cops gave me after she was miraculously arrested after a decade of shoulder shrugs, and the punitive one they cooked up based on vile falsehoods to destroy my ability to ever see my child again, if not destroy me outright, Borderlines are dangerous and take vindictiveness to an inhuman level of commitment. I shan’t offer them an opportunity to slander me or falsely accuse me, any contact whatsoever would be played up if they thought they could, though they clearly have to find another sucker lawyer and I imagine the word is out on that score. I don’t think my Once Beloved is so fond of lawyers either, they don’t destroy on command, they don’t murder men as requested, so unreliable. 😁 So, at a bit of an impasse, think I’ll hire it to a pod-storage outfit with a full upfront explanation of the entire deal, and ask them to contact the crazies for delivery. I’ll make it worth their trouble, and if they manage to get her arrested again I’ll double the tip. Of course, they could refuse, but I’m thinking now, funny how this works.
Both protection orders were canceled immediately after mediation as part of the deal, of course I had to have my lawyer file to undo mine as we weren’t waiting on them. An amazing thing happened too, mediation and many of the agreements were predicated upon my dropping the charges, she had a court hearing like the next day, if she got the charges dropped on her own she could have reneged on much of the agreement, I was in a pickle, I had to get those charges dropped ASAP, and guess what, the prosecutor called me that very evening as I was out driving to relax! She was happy to comply, it was an amazing circumstance all around, the prosecutor was from, of all places, Congo! She couldn’t have the wool pulled over her eyes, no translator funny business, and she was an upstanding righteous woman, another miracle.
Oh, another miracle, and Dear Treepers, remember that I am crediting you all that prayed for me in my initial plea with all the success I have had, all the miracles are down to your love of the Lord, and that of two extraordinary gentlemen that offered an extraordinary prayer on my behalf many months before my spouse was arrested, pleading for my protection and eventual divorce from my abuser in a miraculous fashion, literally the man’s words, and it was exactly so. When I encourage Treepers to always remember that Hope Is Never Vain, I know it to be true with all of my heart.
So, more miracles earlier in the story, but so amazing I can’t avoid relating them. So I had a protection order against my spouse. She was arrested and removed from my home, and I have never seen her in person since, some three years now. The protection order I was given the following day was like a magic talisman, I treasured that and kept it with me, and invoked it in at least one of the many times she violated it. But that only removed one monster from my home. Her two elder children were still in residence. But since she was not, and I was not about to ever let her return, she could no longer block my removal of those two miscreants.
Now the boy was easy, troublesome and pathetic, definitely solid Borderline tendencies with perhaps a dose of Schizo, a cutter, shiftless and lazy, militantly elevated himself above me at every turn with no grounds whatsoever for it, he was simply entitled and had to overcome his smallness, and he had taken far too much to entertain any more. A note under the door, one month notice, please don’t make me involve the authorities, and he was gone, at the last minute, but he wasn’t going to refuse, he was terrified of the cops, he had spent a couple three seasons sponging off of friends and hiding from his mom and clearly had interactions that he didn’t fully come clean on to me about, but it was sufficient for this purpose.
The Sociopathic mid-twenties militant rascist that destroyed everything she could get her hands on if provoked, I mean she was like one of those dogs whose eyes one daren’t meet, she had, in her loving mother’s absence, quit her job, gave up her car, and took her mother’s place living and sleeping on the couch just outside of my bedroom door. Did I mention these people were mental? She had been tasked with spying on me, checking to see the way was clear to let her mother know she could drive up to the house to get my daughter for visitation instead of staying thousands of feet away as required by law, these people are absolute scofflaws; the security cameras I immediately installed ended that monkey business pronto, but the kid was still menacing me, spying, and putting a number on my daughter as she had been instructed to program her to hate me without reservation, and she succeeded to a large extent, they are powerful psychos.
So I set about to obtain a protection order against her. Cops suggested I file for an eviction, but fortunately I recognized the Plandemic eviction moratorium would, if I filed one, actually grant her power to remain even though she never paid a dime, not even to repair what she destroyed. I got a hold of a local outfit for victim support, and began the arduous process of electronically completing a form that was a tragic mishmash of many forms assembled as one, almost impossible to complete, but it surely impelled the completion of my zero-g computer workstation that allowed me to finish the job on a real computer and not a fussy tablet. I arranged to go file my plea, stood before the judge, and, in the new judicial enlightenment of the Plandemic that declared that they could not be bothered with anything, she essentially demanded to know where the blood was, even though my daughter was suicidal, in a grave psychological condition, and was being purposely tormented to force her behavior by a Sociopath. Still, a shoulder shrug and I was done, denied. I was a mite dismayed.
Crushed, I went to my local park on the way home, walked my familiar path, soaked up God’s beautiful world, and asked Him what I should do? Immediately it came to my mind, you already have a new electronic lock prepared to swap out the front door deadbolt when the moment is right, the next time you come home and that child is not in the house you swap the lock and post a notice on the door explaining how she can reclaim her possessions, and that she will never again be granted access to your home. Okay, I can do that. Goodness, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen her gone, she gave up everything to fulfill her task of oppressing her sister and menacing me. Well, I go home, and she’s gone. I change the lock, I post the notice, I find out from my daughter that apparently her Sociopath sister had become so confident in the obedience she had forced upon her that she went away for three days to visit a friend. Oops. 😁
She did come back a week later, with a cop, to grab some stuff, I stood outside and chatted with him, she came out raging that I had poured out her beer, and demanded the cop tell her how to force me pay for it. Well, first, there was never supposed to be any alcohol in our home to begin with, and I caught her little sister with an empty that she pretended to have found in the couch cushions, so I had to pour out the remainder, no choice. I dummied up in failing to ask her on the spot just how many beers I owed her, whereupon I could let her know, in the presence of the officer, that I had only poured out one the difference represents the number her little sister consumed, and how long have you been providing alcohol to your fourteen year old sister anyway? Zut. L’esprit de l’escalier, n’est-ce pas?
I then had my daughter to myself for a little while, the first while ever, and it was nice, though difficult. She did a very nice Linda Blair impression when God’s name came up, and I invested a great deal of effort seeking her heart. We had counseling to attend, we had fun officer interactions when they were summoned to ensure my beloved child was still breathing, the home for once began the day at a sane hour with music and sunlight and a lit fireplace and good cheer. I was immediately served an effort to impose a protection order, but the process actually confirmed my custody of the child so I had her for a number of weeks and their visitations were limited via court order. Then all the revelations of perfidy were presented. I prepared a response to the protection order request, but having no counsel, the law conveniently denied to real people and only in the hands of barristers, I didn’t know how long my written response could be. I worked a weekend on it, overnight as I am this very missive, when I get engaged in a task sometimes I won’t let go, especially likely in a hyper-caffeination episode in consequence of a Trump Rally . . .
I engaged that lawyer on a last second basis, just before closing on the day before the hearing, I feel so silly but it worked out, that was the right man at the right time. I asked how many pages my response should be; ten pages. Oh. I have sixty pages. Guess I better pare it down then . . . Doing so was easy because I could extract from the massive volume I had written, it was already in the right order, it already considered everything I felt belonged there, so it was all appropriate. Still, I worked hard to refine it, my lawyer was impressed and took it to court, and I lost. Well, I was ruled against. It didn’t go as I planned or hoped, but most assuredly as it should have been, if only because it couldn’t have been made to work in the long run.
So, another Kindly Karen came and beamingly escorted my child into her vehicle and took her away from me, and she has been gone ever since. Interestingly enough, that woman had hacked my car insurance account on behalf of my Once Beloved years prior in order to be fraudulently recompensed for non-covered multiple tows of the dead piece of crap car that same woman sold to my wife for three thousand dollars, a car with 300,000 miles worth no more than three hundred dollars in my estimation, but she kindly allowed my wife to work off her debt so it’s all good. Such a Kindly Karen. There are Kindly Karens everywhere prepared at the drop of a hat to destroy a man’s family if there’s a new and interesting pet in the deal for her.
I did see my daughter one more time, through my security camera, with her Sociopath sister, demanding to be let in, when I had a protection order against me still and risked jail if I let her in, and the Sociopath was never getting in again. They were there for a good while, I just waited them out and informed my lawyer, I couldn’t help them. I bent over backwards trying help them all, even in this nightmarish matter, but cooperation is slavery, yes, they are that sick and delusional, and they repeated it often, heck, both of my Once Beloved’s elder spawn dropped out of a free ride college on the back of my veteran’s disability and declared it to be slavery and oppression. Sick demented people.
How did my wife’s kids get so warped. In fact, how did I, son of a Borderline, survivor of previous Borderlines, end up with a Borderline, again, after learning the signs? Both questions are answered together, my Once Beloved is not a normal Borderline whose attachment disorder and abandonment obsession are focused on her husband/partner/victim du jour, which is utterly unheard of. Borderlines cannot be alone, cannot function as a sole human being. True, they can’t function as the spouse or significant other of another human being either, but they will try to make it work, if it kills them, not them themself, but them the poor sap they are feeding off of. I describe them as Free Radicals; a Single Borderline will do anything to find and combine with another human, and they will kill it.
My Once Beloved, however, has the strange distinction of having displaced her abandonment obsession upon her children. Exclusively. Thus, I could know her and interpret for her at Church for three years before we even considered dating, while she was single and available, without her making a play for me, or for another, even rejecting the advances of a poor soul whose life I probably saved by ending up as the main course instead, but that was a remarkably short interlude in reality, and she maintained her obsessive abandonment fears oriented on her children, which gave them enormous power to manipulate her and exploit her for the sake of extreme selfishnesses utterly unwarranted and far beyond the means of their mother to sustain financially, but she did it, most especially for the eldest, the one I am convinced is a Sociopath, the most militantly and destructively human I’ve ever had the displeasure to meet, let alone be afflicted with. So between her own Borderline tendencies which could damn any child, she enabled a most destructive selfishness that twisted them even further. It has effected my own daughter a great deal too, never satisfied, always wanting more and new, graceless and ungrateful, and empty inside.
A Borderline will always use her children. My first used them in multiple relationships and searches for such as bait. Emotional bait for heroic morons whose mothers taught them poorly. My mother relied on me much too much for emotional support, a common theme for eldest kids of Borderlines, especially sons. In my daughter’s case her mother smothered her, pathologically, she shared a bed with her from birth, refused to quit the practice at two years of age when I begged her to, recall I was in the States at the time, and she offered many excuses which I disassembled until we arrived at a partial truth, she simply didn’t want to be alone. This exploitation continued through the process of bringing them here, dummy that I am, and a full five years of the practice transpired by their arrival.
Here, the child insisted on it, the mother only refused when I insisted, and then would spend an hour coaxing the child to sleep, creep back into our room, and five minutes later the child would be bedside and her mother would not make her go back. There were some wild interludes in this farce, including a period of me living in an RV on base after being assaulted with a six foot staff and my bedroom door destroyed and an RV window destroyed, and a wild chase through the neighborhood in their pajamas, myself pursuing only because I had only recently asked her to actually show me the scars from the knife attack she charged her first husband with, the charges he was on the lam from, and they were timid delicate doodles on the inside of her non-dominant arm. She was a cutter. And she was screaming that I was going to take her daughter from her, and she was running wild and half naked through the neighborhood dragging my daughter along, and all I could think of was all the stories I had read of women who murdered their children to save them from their fathers and that this was surely how such things must have happened.
Cops were summoned, the Church was summoned, interlopers from the Sociopath’s High School were called too. The Cops shrugged their shoulders, declared she could destroy any of my property because it was therefore her property too, and discounted my concerns for the safety of my child who I had explained was terrified by her mother and siblings communicating in dark tones in Lingala, a language she didn’t know, I have a recording of her explaining why they were terrified, and I had just learned that my wife was a cutter who had falsely accused her first husband of a near lethal assault and made him a man in hiding in another country she couldn’t find him in, but cops are utterly uneducated in either the laws they are charged to enforce nor the mental illnesses that afflict those they are charged to engage with and to intervene in their disputations; it’s pathetic. My Once Beloved, basking in the attention of the doting officers and officerette, threw a tea party apparently and my daughter was noted to me by the cops as happily playing on the floor, as if this refuted my assertion that she had been in fear; in reality it only further demonstrated their emotional instabilty and the transient nature of their conjoined emotional states, but explaining that obvious fact would have been like teaching a dog Shakespeare, pointless and fruitless.
The Church angrily told me to get a divorce and took them all on a play date.
The interloper from the High School was suitably subdued with subsequent inquiries to the school administrator regarding the degree of criminal and civil culpability they wished to incur in consequence of their employee’s willingness to interfere with my family’s well being simply because her pet pretty African Sociopath charmer summoned her.
So, yeah, I was out of the house for several months after maybe half a year of their arrival; I was at wits end and dealing with the trauma of an armed assault, even if it was a six foot wooden staff, she had all but tried to take my head off with it.
So I tried to find a way to send them back to Germany, the woman might have had to go to Congo first, but if her shiftless kids, German citizens, got jobs they could have brought their mother and little sister to join them there, they claimed to want that, but couldn’t be expected to effectuate it or sacrifice for it.
The fact my spouse committed immigration fraud by lying about her mental health and lying about her criminal actions in falsely charging her former husband for a knife assault anyone with a mind could see she did herself, possibly in a fugue, possibly to implicate her husband, couldn’t bother anyone to help me. Nope, the authorities don’t care, I will never forget the freakishly bony finger of the functionary that stabbed the air at me and declared it was all on me for sponsoring them. Sigh.
I had no intention to come back to this home, I was warned not to, but I could see no options that wouldn’t result in financial ruin for us all, and her absconding with my daughter to hide in some dangerous hovel I’d never find in a city I’d never know. So when she asked me to come back, terrified as I was, I stupidly did, but I did want to try to survive long enough to get my daughter grown up, almost made it. I had actually assembled funds to fly them out and was committed to a degree of support for a lifetime that even exceeded what they are getting now, and for only a short time now, but, choices, ya know?
What my Once Beloved did with my daughter, rendering her unable to sleep unless side by side, ever at the end of a tether tugged on a near minute by minute basis to ensure she was okay but actually deep inside her non-self-examining psyche to fulfill her own needs, is called Emotional Incest. It is an ugly term. Suitable for ugly behavior. It is destructive, and will have grave implications for my daughter’s well being and happiness throughout her life.
It is the exact reason that my daughter couldn’t come to terms being a girl, a girl doesn’t play the emotional role her mother imposed on her, that’s a boy’s job, and a boy she shall be in consequence. I surely hope and pray such will not come to pass, that the instigators will be much too busy trying to survive in the world they assured themselves would be so easy as they could rob me of all my substance that they’d need hardly work. I can imagine no punishment greater than that they are imposing upon each other, though I truly do hope they can keep their acts together, I am fresh out of charity and the times I warned my Once Beloved about and begged her to help me prepare for both in terms of both the physical needs that would come, and the familial unity that would and already was vital. All in vain.
I truly once treasured her, I even called her Tresor, it was extremely difficult for me to break that habit even in the worst of it, it felt like an emotional stiff-arm, something I know all too well but had never developed the talent or taste for delivering.
So, back the the post divorce frivolities. Of course, defiance, avoidance, and refusal of orders were her priorities. I ended up paying off the car, my insurance company dropped the car because I did not have it in my possession any longer, and I wasn’t going to try to find another agency, a likely overpriced and iffy insurer to satisfy my lender, I needed that car off my back, my lender demanded it, I needed to be relieved of their irresponsibility with it.
To indicate the kind of irresponsibility they are prone to, my Once Beloved had much earlier granted her well under-aged and highly incompetent and irresponsible children access to her car, utterly untrained, little urban savages, she literally gave them the keys. I could not dissuade her from it, could not engage her in discussion on the matter, she would fly into a rage if I even uttered her horrid Sociopath daughter’s name, so I had to cancel an order I had in on a second little new car so that I could give her mine, on the condition that she would give her old car to her daughter and never let an unlicensed driver touch the new car I gave her. She wouldn’t hear me out, her Borderline instincts screamed rage, protect the captives of her emotional incest whose perfidy she would defend with, um, my life; she missed out, her daughter missed out, but that’s Borderlines for you.
I’ve no doubt my own daughter has since done the same with the car I no longer own and they don’t realize they do own because they are hiding from their perfidies to such a degree they cannot resolve
(Continued:)
I’ve no doubt my own daughter has since done the same with the car I no longer own and they don’t realize they do own because they are hiding from their perfidies to such a degree they cannot resolve any of the problems and debts they have created for themselves.
So, another miracle, I refinance my now used new little car, because the Plandemic had jacked its value up so much that I could refinance it for more than I paid new, and use those funds to pay off her car. I deregistered her car, I got my name off of it entirely, killed the plates on it, and I transferred it to her as far as the DMV is concerned, but she hasn’t gone to the DMV to complete the process, and because she was in hiding and trying to make me homeless as well as hide my daughter and the car she refused to pay for, I couldn’t communicate with her. So now she is driving an completely unregistered, UNTITLED, and uninsured car, and gets away with it because she has not surrendered to me the Disabled Veteran’s plates on it which have no expiration upon them, even though they are deactivated and should ping a plate reader or several, but she is not in the least legally entitled to such plates, so all she has to do is stop running red lights and sweet talk the silly cops that do stop her and she will keep on hiding, and while I worry for innocents, I can do little and only likely bring harm to myself for my troubles. Let her hide, I like her that way.
At this moment she is probably unlicensed herself as well, and, interestingly enough, she and her spawn excepting my own child, are now a full year overdue renewing their Green Cards. Oops. Gonna take a lot in it for me to ever lift a finger on their behalf on that score. Did I mention they all tormented me for a decade? Call me slow, but I am indeed done. I think Congo is nice any time of year for dangerous former spouses.
Hmmm, did I mention that in reality due to her concealment from me and the authorities of her immigration fraud on the basis of her severe mental health problems and false criminal charges against her in this regard innocent former spouse, which are all perfectly proven with the examination and interrogation of one simple fact carved into her own flesh by none other than her own hand. I am not going to go pushing that, unless I win the lottery, in which case I’m giving you all front row seats! However, if she comes at me, if she tries to force me to resolve their immigration plight in a manner that threatens me in any fashion, this little play is something I will be contemplating quite seriously. Send them all away, or pay for them to stay, oh, oh how would I ever make such a difficult decision? 😈
So I battled with the mortgage company, they wanted a quit claim deed no matter what documentation my lawyer provided, she pulled her disgraceful in person refusal to sign the quit claim deed, and proceeded to ignore my lawyer’s emails thenceforth, and I paid to have him pursue a divestment and vestment process, and it worked. I didn’t get to refinance my house and pay off my debts with it because her games pushed me into the beginning of the rise of interest rates, but I got my house. It’s not really where I want to be, but it’s a place to be and that’s a blessing, even under the circumstances.
Then my mother passed. My first Borderline, from whom I was estranged because I couldn’t be in the middle of and expected to support her through the destruction of her new late life husband, which I couldn’t even watch happen, I had already endured that myself, all in consequence of her infliction of such problems upon me from day one. I should have told him to run, but they were adults and had to make their own mistakes, I wasn’t going to be held responsible for destroying her marital bliss.
So I was informed she was in a bad way, Turbo Cancer. My sister, far Left, alternate lifestyle to include two-mommy children, whom I was also estranged from after she determined that my concern for the children she was bringing into the world weren’t being fairly treated in light of the family structure their divine origin merited, she was the one that asked for my sanction and approval post insemination so it’s not like I was interjecting myself, I simply didn’t respond as she wished, and she believed I was going to sic the Church on her to take them away, it was a long estrangement, but in the end, despite their own estrangement, she was there for my mother.
I could not travel, I could not bear to be even near my mother’s over-perfumed home anyway, she was obsessed with having pets she couldn’t properly care for or train, and relied on chemistry to cover the consequences, I could not keep anything gifted me that I could not scrub in vinegar and bleach and leave out in the sun, so I have my old Indian pestle and jasper arrowhead I found on our old hundred acre hobby farm, and had to give away the rest. I did destroy a washer and dryer simply to clean up an old sofa throw, it was an epic effort to save the throw, in the end expensive as the machines destroyed any clothing I washed subsequent, they had to go. The life of a chemically compromised invalid. I got a beautiful painting she did that I couldn’t keep, the only thing I had asked for too, I had to send it to the kid that pulled the unpardonable stunt, which I incidentally have every reason to suspect is far from the only damage she has done in my extended familial circle. Sigh. Borderlines are great at laying landmines, and they never own up to them, they are ashamed, they lash out in rage, and repent in secret, while the weapons remain strewn about.
I want a little dog with all my heart, need a friend, know just the breed and the name for her, but fear I won’t be long here for her, and cannot ensure I can properly and consistently care for her. Keeping proper hours is not my specialty these days, and while a critter would impact that positively I’m sure, I just can’t put an innocent animal at the mercy of my well being when it is so unstable and in such doubt. I cannot risk my home becoming soiled because I am insufficiently attentive or active, it would be unfair to us both.
Maybe if I get a better laid out single level home with ceramic floors and a safe yard, and not a single cruel neighbor in sight, I really don’t like the way American homes are built, I hate wall to wall carpet, area rugs above an impervious floor, fine, but a home designed to fall apart and absorb every odor and stain forever, not likely to last fifty years when I could build one to last a thousand, and worthy of it, no, we are cheaped on this end of the deal by the Corporatists as well.
Anyway, I sent my mother flowers, they were perfect and well received, with a note telling my mother that she was and would always be loved, something I know she could only have doubted, and she never deserved that, I just couldn’t safely express it for so long, and my sister sat by her side on her last day as I spoke to her for hours through the phone, she unable to respond, for the first time in many years, and I was, miraculously, at peace, I never thought her passing would be so for me in light of our difficult and complicated relationship and distance.
A happy consequence is my sister was amazed to discover who I really am and the life I’ve led and the many talents, passions and interests I have, and I was amazed to discover what a kind thoughtful person she had become, so we have seen each other a couple of times since and communicate often, weird talking about chicks with my sister, but it is what it is, and I inundate her with musical offerings and had to sent her a stereo for her birthday because they are too two-kids-in-college poor to get one and the CDs I was sending her were going unlistened to, an absolutely unacceptable situation.
She and my brother did work I could not possibly have done, clearing my mom’s hoarder home and settling her estate, which seems fair, I have invested a great deal of effort and finances to improve and maintain the home; and, happily, none of us had been taken out of her will. Again the Plandemic/Blackrock Reverse Fire Sale put us much further ahead than we could have hoped to be, it was a blessing I never counted on. So I’ve been made largely whole, have breathing room, got a nice car more suitable to my needs, still have a really cute economy car to dispose of though, just couldn’t take the hit they wanted on trade in, not that I could entirely blame them, I had to undo some modifications I had done to the seat to keep the car from killing me and it wasn’t pretty. Planned to have it restored in time but the Subaru I ordered came in many months sooner than expected.
The little car is ready to go now, I am just really slow at planning and executing complex tasks these days, and, yes, my neighbors’ poison is right there next to my driveway, not to mention their smug hateful faces . . . I often wonder if those are the most difficult poisons of theirs to endure, not a fan of cruelty and hate . . . one would be surprised how reluctant one can become to open their own front door when the majority of the time it destroys one’s mind, or hurts their heart.
My Once Beloved does not know of my windfall, unless my first Borderline daughter outs me, but I have told her little to nothing of that matter and she has been forbidden to contact them again, can’t say I trust her to keep her word on that, I am still struggling to decide how to deal with her, she’s dangerous too. No matter which side of the grass I am on, they have no business amplifying each other’s miseries or commiserating on my clearly imagined shortcomings. 😉
Still have a little debt, mostly in consequence of extensive efforts to prepare for the chaos to come, which is nuts as I more often than not feel as if I have mere days left to go, not from vain dark imaginings but from dire symptoms progressively worsening with little surcease, but Heaven has its own timing and I must carry on to the end, and perhaps be prepared to bless another in the process. Food may well become more valuable than gold. I only pray I can survive my neighbors who are, remarkably, quite German in their outlook if you get my drift. They’d drop a Deutschmark on me in a heartbeat on the upcoming MyAnneFrank App. I really need a better place to hang out.
I don’t particularly foresee a relationship anytime soon if ever, not that being always alone is what I want, quite preferable to the alternatives I’ve known, but can never lose the mental image of what should have been with a faithful soul. Having a mental case Ex with mental children is not a relationship enhancement, especially when I am as yet unable to escape their handiwork nor their gossip, and when I see a blacked out car fly into my quiet suburban court and race out of it just as fast I know that I’m being spied upon by the worst of them, I’ll not be posting a personals ad, like, ever, I just can’t see it, much as I love sane people, I can’t imagine finding one that could begin to comprehend my life without fleeing in terror at the potential for trouble my lovely miscreants are capable of, not to mention have already wrought.
So, thank you to all for your earnest and powerful prayers on my behalf, requested some three years plus ago, which have yielded much fruit.
The loss of my child, the manner of it, in light of my once exuberant hopes, has embarrassed and shamed me, difficult to own up to even though I was not the author of it. Simply having no choice but to accede to it, knowing how unthinkable such a choice would be for the many fortunate that have never encountered the madness of a Borderline and the irreversible destruction they wreak upon one’s life and progeny, it’s not something I enjoy talking about. Not that I would hesitate if it would help someone, who knows. Maybe this will, I know a couple few of us are here recognizing the hard fellowship we share in surviving our own BPDs, and I am not ashamed to educate on the matter, would that someone could have when I was a young man, it was too fresh and misunderstood, even though my Grandmother, my mother’s mother, was surely one too. Such hazards must be understood, and, somehow maybe someday, we will have a sane just society that looks into remedying the situation, somehow.
I know that I have lost count of the men I’ve encountered who’ve recited their tales of marital woes that fit a certain fact pattern, leading me to write down the name of a book or two and explain why they are alternatively either an angel of light or the darkest demon in their spouses’ eyes, changing in the blink of an eye with no seeming rhyme or reason one can discern. I don’t imagine this has saved any marriages, though some resources do exist for the rare sufferer of the condition that recognizes they are hurting others, and hurt inside themselves, and want to avoid such suffering,lll but those are still only coping tools, there is no cure.
Mostly I imagine this enables many simply to save their sanity, to understand what’s going on, to stop blaming themselves because they are the only person in the relationship willing to be held accountable, even when they aren’t at fault, claiming responsibility falsely in their hearts or openly in their marriages can’t affect the problem because it isn’t the problem, but there’s nothing else to do other than rage and hate when there’s no understanding.
Unfortunately there really is almost only one solution to the problem, but when a child is involved, it is a steep price to pay for peace. Not that the civil functionaries aren’t eager to solve such problems on our behalves, usually seeking to favor the Borderline but harming the children most of all.
In Korea, divorce is rare, and there is a reason for that. A woman maintains custody of children through their nurturing years, but at age eight they go to the father who takes on his role of socialization. Both roles are vital, the division is fair and appropriate, but neither wants the sacrifices involved, and women aren’t incentivized as they are in the West to leave their men and marry the State.
Okay, enough of all that!
On to my current headaches! Weee!!!
My health problems are literally fixable, at least I have many reasons to believe so, but I don’t know how long such a window of opportunity might remain open.
While the symptoms and syndromes are extensive and complex and cripplingly limiting, they are all literally due to a pair of closely located physical infirmities that seem like they would be entirely addressable, both impinging literally upon my brain, but it takes a rare competence and breadth of professional knowledge and curiosity to even recognize the condition, let alone have the capacity to address it even superficially, let alone to actually repair it.
So, when I’m feeling silly I might call it Big Brain Syndrome and Wobbly Noggin Syndrome.
My brain is literally too big for my skull. Conversely, one could say my skull is too small for my brain, but I find the former more flattering.
This is a congenital issue, one that I was not diagnosed with as a child, even though I should have been, for it constituted for me a learning disability, sitting still allowed my brain to settle under gravity, my brain stem impinged on the arteries that share the spinal cord’s passage through the foramen magnum, the hole in the base of one’s skull, as well as putting undue pressure on my brain stem itself, the portion of my cerebellum that has grown too far downwards in consequence of the restriction in volume, and can even affect the spinal cord. In short, my brain kind of shut down and I could not pay proper attention or engage with subject matter. Not always so, but all too often.
It would also restrict cerebral spinal fluid flow, and this could both create pressure and trap heat in the cranium. I recall as a child laying my head on my desk, it was so cool, I felt so hot, and the relief from that position was indescribable.
In severe cases this is known as a Chiari Malformation, generally classified as a Chiari One through Four, based essentially on how far beyond the foramen magnum one’s brain extends, One is considered mild but still often considered operable if symptoms warrant, Four is essentially one’s entire brain stem residing in their cervical canal, even a mere line drawing of that condition makes me nauseous, such persons suffer a great deal, relief is difficult to obtain, a cure almost certainly not possible.
I am in the unenviable position of being in a classification that hasn’t yet been fully accepted by the neurological community, and most neurologists and almost every radiologist alive is unaware of, or paid to deny the existence of, as far as I can determine, I have been told that I have a Chiari Zero, wherein the measurement they take of one’s brain stem in relation to their foramen magnum is less than in a Chiari One, but is clearly symptomatic and very likely fairly easily operable.
Part of the joys of the games the medical folk play is laying one down on one’s back for a full thirty minutes to do an MRI. They then look at my image, and declare, with the clever placement of a ruler over the image, that the lower tip of my herniated cerebral tonsils are a whopping full millimeter above my foramen magnum, and my ventricles, the fluid filled regions in the center of the brain, aren’t enlarged in consequence of sustained brain crushing pressure, so I ‘m clearly good to go, so get out, leave us alone, y’all know the story.
What they don’t know, is about Chiari Zero. What they don’t know is they are twenty if not thirty years behind in diagnostic technology and standards. Or they do know, but they don’t let on, because denial of care is good for their bottom line. VA care is government care which is rationed care which is little better than murder.
When upright, anyone’s brain will descend under gravity. I have a lifetime of my brain dialing down under this effect, and the onset has increased so rapidly of late that I often can spent very little time upright, even for self care activities, it’s all I can do to nuke something and make tea, then back to bed. I do have some furniture I have in mind to construct, or remodel to address my needs, but it didn’t occur to me to do so before I became too wimpy to pull it off.
Part of the reason for my particular vulnerability to the condition is because I nearly tore my head off in an accident forty years ago, stopping a runaway VW bug doing sixty downhill off the freeway into a busy intersection with a steel light pole rather than hit other cars. Bad move, the cars would have been softer. The car had no brakes, no emergency brake, no seat belts, no headrest, a very excruciating low back seat, and I apparently went off onto the grass to miss the cars and to try to make a turn to the right to avoid the cars whizzing through the intersection. The car slid slightly offset into an unyielding eighteen inch steel light pole.
I smashed the steering column into the dash with my chest, the windshield was lost and I am not entirely sure how I didn’t exit that way, I bounced back and was found folded backwards over that ridiculous low backed seat. I say apparently in regards to my actions during these events, as I lost twenty minutes, remembering only shifting down and cursing the lack of an emergency brake.
I was a dumb nineteen year old. I was taken to the hospital with my friend and we waited for them to sew up the large though not terribly deep lacerations on my left shoulder, just a ragged mess to clean up a bit. While waiting my friend smacked me in said shoulder and asked excitedly if he had told me of the dream he had had the night prior. I then recalled his recitation of his dream as we were on the freeway, where he recounted a wild tale of weaving madly down the interstate in an out of control brake-less car, not a minute before it actually happened. He was an odd kid, he had such dreams many times, once seeing school kids’ vehicle meets train deaths on his way to school, which actually happened that very day, or so he had told me, long before he pulled the same trick on us both.
I often ask myself if Heavenly Father didn’t allow him to tell me that story simply to let me know that He had a plan and a lifetime of pain and increasing dysfunction was part of it? Qui sait?
It wasn’t even my car. Friends were taking their new acquisition to the shop for a new rag top, instead of towing it to the brake shop. I’d never driven a bug and wanted to try. I killed that car, but I’m sure it was resurrectable, maybe, never followed up on it, they weren’t real happy about the affair.
It only took a day for me to realize something was wrong with my neck, only a moment for the doctor to declare I would be screaming if anything was really wrong with it. Thanks, Doc, set the tone for the entire four decade affair.
Oh, and then I crashed a motorcycle on the freeway, lots of rolling on the pavement at speed, lots of prayers to stop rolling, then prayers that the motorcycle tumbling along behind me would stop first, continuing to alternate prayers until I came to a standstill without being crushed by the bike. Broke a wrist, banged up beyond belief, fair chance it didn’t help my neck or my brain.
So, I continued my adventures, entering active duty in the Air Force after being in the reserves, the bike wreck convincing me I had been going down the wrong road in life and needed to go full time and get on with it.
It appears that the accident rendered my brain hyper-mobile, there’s not much more than gossamer wing fixing it in any general position in the best of circumstances, and I clearly went out of my way to find the worst of them. Oh, did I mention I crashed a tractor? Hit a hidden narrow ditch side on and gave my noggin a nice scar to measure the regression of my hairline with. Doubt that helped things much.
What my body did was knot up muscle, in my mid-back in a fashion that I never recognized, that fully stabilized an injury from being folded stapled and spindled at that point. I never knew of it when decades later an Air Force Chiropractor declared he had discovered in my back the source of the agonizing tension in my neck, and promptly opened Pandora’s Box of Pain, introducing me to agonies that eventually saw me on double the VA’s current maximum for Morphine for a few years.
I recognized no effects from the opioid, never felt happy or whatever, but when standards started to change and they started playing with my dosage due to their fears and not my pain, I jumped at the chance to grab a $3K electronic machine to replace it and went cold turkey off that and the anti-depressants they thought would help me survive my spouse at the same time, stone cold quit, both, and then I felt it, the both of them, took a very hard month laid out, running that crazy machine that the lady hooking me up with it said to start real low, it’s super strong, it takes a lot to get used to it, and I immediately cranked it straight to the max and never backed it down. Her eyes got kinda big, said I had to be real bad to be able to do that, and need to.
The machine is called an H-Wave, highly recommended for those in pain in a region this is suitable for. I got off double Morphine cold turkey with it, I can’t imagine a higher recommendation, and, it actually allowed me to retrain my nervous system to the degree I’m not reliant upon it except for flare ups. I got an Alpha-Stim off of them as well, to address more generalized pain, not as powerful, but very helpful, and has actually cured some of PTSD and depression, another wonder I recommend to those in need.
Unfortunately, none of those will work on my neck, which is a much more complex and longer running nightmare than my back which wouldn’t have been a problem but for a sketchy chiropractor.
My neck presented me agony shortly into my active duty career, the muscles were so tense they felt like they were ripping apart, and they actually pulled a lower vertebrae out of position and mechanically locked it to the one below, epically weird and strange, and rare, and a blessing to have had a physical therapist that was dabbling in chiropractic arts to disengage it a time or few.
Mostly I was told it’s just stress, here, put heat on it, here stretch it out with this, and I addressed it as best I could for a long time, gave myself an aspirin sensitivity after swallowing handfuls at a time day in and day out for years. Oops.
My job as an aircraft mechanic required feats of strength, in which I typically would lift and carry what two or three normally would, and many other idiocies including running where others would saunter, I was just a born over-worker; but the biggest challenge for my neck was the necessity of being a contortionist. I have long arms, I had eyes in my fingertips and could manipulate fasteners with a single fingertip where few could even access them, and I often had to be in whack weird positions in order to do that. Much bendy stressy fun.
Cervical traction often felt miraculous. There is a certain point where whatever is going on somewhere in the whole silly stack of bones gets stretched out just a bit, just right, and all of a sudden it’s like the Heavens opening up, Chi, energy, blood, oxygen, I don’t have much of a clue, but I had in such moments my mind in full, not restricted and choked off, miraculous, I swear I think I might’ve heard angels singing, yet all too brief and ephemeral, and potentially detrimental in the long run. But it was part of a daily routine to survive, for many years.
My exposure to chemicals in the Military was epic, I probably breathed more heavy metals in a single day of work during my first tour to Korea than most would get in a year of normal life, and and the solvents, and the endless tobacco everywhere, I could not escape it. Months into my tour they were doing brain scans looking for a tumor, it was that bad. The exposures were so profound and routine and omnipresent that I was never able to truly associate my conditions with the exposures. By the time I got back to the States tobacco was confirmed my number one agent of mental crippling, and the friendly Air Force neurologist gave me a bottle and said if this doesn’t work we will have to talk about kicking you out.
Well, neither the bottle nor his warning fixed my problem, but it most assuredly kept me from asking for help again. I just kept getting worse and worse, knocking myself out, saving the world, being the guy they called when nothing made sense so I could pull out the blueprints and we could figure it out. I built a lot of tools. Despite its infirmities, my brain simply presents the tool in my mind, fully formed, I don’t even have the opportunity to complete my I wish we had something to make this easier thought before it presents itself. I really like this brain and want to save it, I have a feeling there’s work to be done and fun to be had, and no one has ever seen a car like the one I would build if Heaven allows it, a street rolling carnival, corner shooting zoomy, a circus standing still, a work of glorious mechanical art, I don’t the dream to die with me, to not see it done, to not experience it. Not even Anime has touched this concept folks!
My first week on the U2 I was frustrated that half of the airplane was unsafe to work on until a part we had to remove for inspection was completed and either reinstalled or replaced, days later, until then no one could touch that portion of the aircraft, at risk of life and limb. I remember the moment walking to lunch when I said that’s so stupid, someone should just build a tool, and it was there before I finished the thought, I built it that weekend. Forty years the aircraft was in the inventory at that point and not one soul thought to build a temporary fixture to replace the flight component that was removed for inspection so a week of work for dozens of men could proceed without delay, it had to be this silly guy with the misbehaving brain. Took Lockheed several months to approve the tool because they first wanted to create a new tool program to exploit ideas like mine, profitably. 🙄 Like, dudes, I built it in a garden shed in a day, we can build them; but I did like their cast base solution better, much more elegant and less likely to lose bits than a bolted affair.
So I came back from my first Korea sojourn, a nice year by the Yellow Sea, where I never saw more than four pale stars at night from the pollution and humidity, and thus began my frustration with the inability to see the sky, in a vehicle or a home, sorta a longing for the stars and the clouds. I began cutting holes shortly thereafter . . . and some real fun began when I went back to work on the U2.
I discovered that Lockheed had replaced the engines in all the U2s with a more powerful turbofan, yay! Also found out that they were having problems with the throttle quadrants, the pilots could not reduce engine speed sufficiently to keep the crazy efficient wings with the new more powerful engines down, they were going around in endless loops trying to land again and again, and a bicycle landing gear aircraft, with solid dumpster style wheels in the rear, is a difficult airplane to land in the best of circumstances, they can’t even see the ground, they have to be chased down the runway by a fast car with a pilot to talk them down, telling him where to position himself and how close to the ground he was.
But I discovered, as I was dealing with sufficient cranial pain to put me on meds that took me out of work, so I quit them instead and suffered because I hated not working, I discovered that they actually had a brilliant fix for the problem, for which they would replace all the throttle quadrants in all the jets. What would they do to make those quadrants actually work this time? Why, the exact same thing they did twice before I got back to the States, brilliant! The thing that didn’t work twice but would work a third time because another million dollars for the whole job for the third time simply had to be the charm.
Back to the blueprints. Okay guys, rigging of this throttle is required to deliver this much movement to the fuel control unit, and you can’t get it to move to full close, because you drew the line depicting the point from which the throttle lever should be for rigged onto the paper plans this particular distance from the throttle stop, but you drew the line on the actual throttle lever in the center of the lever, not on the backside of the lever as you have depicted it in the blueprints, and of course you can’t draw a line on the backside and line it up anyway, so what you force us to move the throttle backwards from its proper position by six degrees to line your silly marks up, which is six degrees less than the throttle requires to be able to go to full close, you created this problem, and you recreate it every time you grind the throttle stop position back further to allow more throttle travel because you then follow that brilliant fix up by putting the new throttle rigging mark the exact same distance from the new stop as you had before you ground it down!
They were chasing their tails. Grown men, highly paid engineers in a highly prestigious weapons program effecting a massive generational shift in engine technology that would do good for every parameter including pilot safety, except for the part where he can’t land because the lovely new engine can’t be slowed down enough. Brilliant, bonuses all around!
Every time they moved the stop back to increase range of travel, they then moved the rigging mark back by the exact same amount, utterly erasing the additional range they thought they had created.
In the process they were destroying the throttle quadrants by unnecessarily removing so much material and moving the stops so low it was difficult for pilots in astronaut suits and gloves to actually move it down to that position.
I praise engineers, true engineers, the magic of math wows me in the material and mechanical and design sciences, these guys were not engineers, they were very expensive and dangerous clowns.
So I built a tool, yes, feeling brain-dead, my entire twenty five year career was done while fighting ever greater pain and dysfunction. Chemical sensitivities were off the charts, a whiff of tobacco and not only did my brain explode, my eyes went wonky, four inch letters at ten paces in the snap of one’s fingers were immediately rendered illegible to me. Doctors assured me this wasn’t possible. Okay, thanks, carry on, don’t let me bother you . . .
I built the tool, I drafted my own blueprints and typed a twenty page engineering synopsis describing the problem and the solution. Lockheed had just the man to evaluate the utility of this tool that all my men loved using, the very engineer that created the problem in the first place. I can’t remember which step of the problem solving flow chart it was but he clearly arrived a the point where arose the question; did you break it? A yes answer leads one directly to instructions to hide what you broke. And hide it he did. Turned down the tool, claimed it wasn’t needed, my third grade math was clearly wrong, hey, look squirrel! Insanity.
By this point brilliant management minds were on the move. Two Light Colonels unite in destructive stupidity: Hey, this brain dead guy here spends fourteen hours a day here at work so after normal duty hours he can write corrections and additions to the worst technical order system in the Air Force, but what if we write it into his job description so he has to do it and then we don’t have to pay him $200 for his individual efforts? Brilliant! So they did it, and I had no incentive to work many extra hours trying to fix the worst technical orders in the system and earn a few bucks to pay off my first BPD ex-spouse’s bills! Genius, Lieutenant Colonels at their finest. They went from a collective 600 improvements submitted a year to 20. This is the power of useless brass unconnected to reality and the men that do the work.
The U2’s books are so bad we had to use the blueprints and lore passed down verbally through the ages to keep the things flying on the edge of space.
Then certain Senior Master Sergeant types moved in and declared “No More Gurus!” They would fix that dastardly technical order deficiency by getting rid of everyone that possessed the vital knowledge that had not yet made it’s way into those books, ya know, they ones they removed the incentive for Airmen to spend many hours of their own time to write improvement orders for. More genius. This one snared me. I wuz a Guru. I wuz fired. For doing my job as trained, as it should have been done, lacking some specifics being in the technical orders because even those mad and determined enough to put the information into them were discouraged and removed from their duties.
I wasn’t happy with the new job in the new squadron that followed and wanted out, though I dearly loved the program and had the most epic overseas temporary assignments with them, France, Sicily, Saudi Arabia, okay, that last not as fun, I really killed myself showing the young pups how it’s done, in 130 degree heat, in a closed metal hangar without AC, building what none imagined or recognized was needed, except the other men of Aerospace Repair that would follow me and might have to recover a crashed aircraft and would need what I would and did build. Adventure!!
Okay, a bit carried away with minutia, well, c’est moi, I really loved my job, and I had a special oversized brain perfect for it in almost every way, except for the pain and dysfunction part.
So I volunteered to go to Korea, which allowed me to choose my following assignment for which I requested Germany. (Danger Will Robinson) This time I went to Osan, a much nicer base, much nicer living accommodations for my new rank of Master Sergeant, and I got to bring my car, my beloved Geo Metro, we tore it up all over town and made three cross peninsula trips to see epic sights without a single GI to insult and intimidate the locals. My brain got worse, people still smoked stupid, I came to run the night shift as Production Supervisor to keep me from annoying some rather annoying people that loved their tobacco, and I loved that job, never failed to deliver every jet scheduled to fly. These were my first A10s, I fell in love. Ran bird to bird triple checking every inspection, every inch of the birds, fuel load, weapons load, all of it, two hours of frigid exhilaration. The good kind of frigid, not the BPD kind.
One night I recall working in the office, having to fight multiple systems to transport data manually between them as they were all wonky, and slowly over the night my head got worse and worse and by the end of the night it felt and smelled as if someone was smoking in my face, my brain was coming out my ears. No one outside smoking. I searched with my nose and went straight to a trash can in the far corner, where I found the saddest oldest cigarette butt on the planet, worn, months of rain and sun, it was barely a fluff-ball, I doubt a normal human could smell it at all, certainly not the fellas I worked with, but it was overpowering, it may as well have been a lit cigar, though there wasn’t a dollop of tobacco left on it, not even a yellow smudge, it was like a cotton ball, and it had, slowly, over the course of hours, ramped up my sensitivity bit by bit until it was crippling. This is how things go, how the oh so innocent offenses others insist can’t possibly ever affect me lay me low.
That is all the work of the brain stem. Every nerve in one’s body is always speaking to one’s brain, and everyone’s brain is set to one degree or another on ignore. It’s not smelt, heard, felt, or perceived in any fashion unless it meets thresholds the brain-stem controls, it filters all incoming nervous input. My nose didn’t get super powerful, my brain became incredibly weak at its task of ignoring things, to the degree that they become crippling.
The Brain Stem also has a significant role in nervous system output, most critically, the Autonomic Nervous System, controlling only mildly important things such as breathing and heartbeat and oh almost everything. This is what the conjunction of my oversized cramped distorted downward reaching cerebellum, and hyper-mobile brain under the force of gravity was pulling down and jamming up in my crowded cranial exit hole.
This brain shoving down problem was met by the site of my most crippling cervical injury, my CranioCervical Junction. My head is barely attached to my skull, the ligaments between are partially shredded, there are no cushioning discs there, it was very unstable, and I hadn’t arrived in Germany yet . . . where stupid got worse.
Germany, first task, get a home as far from the base as possible, get away from young GIs doing the stupid thing, meet Germans that don’t yet hate young GIs doing stupid things, and be the last person called in the middle of the night to come deal with a problem; I had already done for about fifteen years of being that guy that got called because I lived close on base in my old mobile home, which was paid for, I miss that part of the deal.
Also, genius, get place close to Autobahn, so can still get to work fast if I wanted to. Not so genius, get super fast car that doesn’t know starting slow, it jumps, no matter how little go juice one summoned, it jumped, hard, never driven anything like it. 250 horsepower all wheel drive VW Golf, the Mark IV R32, the first and only true R32 with a proper six-speed manual and a genuine three door coupe body, no high school girl four door crap that cuts your vision and your style. This car could dance, it could fly, it was a street legal circus ride one could literally spin in place, take a corner hot, lift your throttle foot, the front experiences serious engine braking, rear breaks loose and spins around on the virtually planted front tires, when pointed the correct direction hit the throttle and it leapt in one’s desired direction. It was instinctual and effortless. I was hooked. I was an idiot.
I crushed Paris traffic, I passed slowpokes on the inside of hairpin turns, I emptied gas tanks in single base to base runs, often. I drifted neutrally on country roads, stopped within the length of a jack-knifing semi truck on the Autobahn at speed, before the cab even came fully came into my lane, any other vehicle I would have been dead. Drove sideways at speed around the spin out circle at the German driving school, they couldn’t force me out of the circle, the car wouldn’t spin out, I just drifted sideways all around it, right between the lines never even touched them, as the driving partner I was paired with who hadn’t driven in several months after a bad accident screamed in terror the entire way of every revolution of that circle, twas glorious, and she returned to driving just the same.
But, that car beat my brain, bad, real bad. Not that having a leaky non-ventilated office built into an active aircraft painting hangar wasn’t messing me up!! Or the delightful practice of German engineers to direct the exhaust of heavy diesel trucks directly into the faces of oncoming traffic wasn’t messing me up, or my landlord’s sloppy oil fill guy making a mess in the basement that went all the way up the stairway to kill me in my own home wasn’t messing me up. But my car really did a number on me.
It had one of those seats that look absolutely ridiculous until you realize you would be thrown out of the vehicle if you did not have those restraints. The back went way up, and it played paddle ball with my skull. Okay, I’m smart, I will rest my skull firmly against the seat so the violence of it’s surge into motion will not slam my head again. Nope, now my brain was directly slamming against the inside of my skull, to crippling effect.
I ran a great shop with great men, they worked their hearts out and were masters of their craft, it was a joy and a blessing. And had to come to an end, of course, because an insane Chief Master Sergeant had gotten it into his head that since the men that performed Aerospace Repair (AR), were really just glorified Crew Chiefs, and they were interchangeable at will, see, these numbers here say so.
Okay, Chief.
I was tasked to design a completely new office complex around the perimeter of this aircraft inspection hangar so we could get all the shops in one place and even more aircraft on the floor, and did such a fine job that they dropped a million dollars and built it in a matter of a couple of months, yay me.
The Chief decided to ask me, why don’t you take your extremely experienced men that took two years to become fully competent in their current excruciatingly exacting and unforgiving job, which they only began after having proved themselves the most competent and qualified Crew Chiefs before they were even considered for this job in AR, and we will have every body do every body else’s jobs, all at the same time!
I still sour at the memory of my direct Senior Master Sergeant boss trying to sell me on the idea when he rubbed his hands together and I swear quivered with joy at the managerial brilliance they would impose on us and his resultant cry, SYNERGY!
All I could see was aircraft falling out of the sky, and nitpicking micromanagers hassling my men for taking a bit of a breather. My guys worked as long as it took to do a job, they worked longer and harder than anyone that I’ve worked with or who’ve worked for me. When a plane goes down, when someone makes a big oopsie, when an aircraft has to be disassembled and put in a box to ship back to the factory, my men would work as long as it took without complaints, and I owed it to them to not nitpick and hassle them over a little sit down time to unwind. It’s a feast or famine job, mostly it’s a feast, non-stop work, the famines are few and enjoyed liberally, I can’t give them a raise, but I can give them a break and respect; and these Masters of the Universe were going to destroy that, make them do menial work when they weren’t actively saving the world, and forcing them to train quasi-dangerous mediocrities how to do their elite level skill jobs, just because, SYNERGY!!
Oh, and while you’re at it, Sergeant, you’ve been running a shop by yourself that normally requires two Master Sergeants, and we are going to be losing the last of our Master Sergeants that run the Inspection Dock where we want you all to go, so, instead of doing the work of two Master Sergeants, why don’t you come do the work of four of them? SYNERGY!!
I had to decline, well, I resisted, I reasoned, I never got to decline because by the time I showed to respond to his ultimatum he had decided that his big Chief ego was feeling a mite put upon that I dare even require an ultimatum so I was already fired, just before I could decline and be fired. I never took Chief Logic School, but I think that means he still had two more stripes than I did. Good Job, Chief.
Running the entire show, shouldering four men’s jobs, was approaching peak stupid, and it was grossly unfair to all the men involved, dangerous to the entire operation. Oh, and it was illegal too, aspects of their plan were against clear regulations forbidding much of what they wanted to do. He claimed his scalp. I thwarted his idiotic dysfunctional organizational plan, it never happened. I had made the right noises in the right places. Sometimes when you lose you win, taking one for the team is what a man often has to do.
Incidentally, myself and another victim of the Chief that fires straight from his ego, enjoyed an only shortly belated snicker when the Chief soon violated General Order Number One in the Sandbox with extreme amounts alcohol and accosted the Security Guards who stopped him with his famous question if they knew he was the famous Chief that fired straight from his ego, and was retired and shipped Stateside within the day. Fired straight home with his own sorry ego.
I made my way to Wing Safety. I was the new Foreign Object Damage Program Manager. Commonly known as the FOD GOD, being put in Wing Safety for the first time in the Air Force in Europe, and it made great sense and permitted me to accomplish a lot, despite declining even more, and having endless medical appointments. It was a clean office in the Wing Headquarters building, there was not a single smoker in the entire building, I was in Heaven. I invented tools, fixed things, saved the world, seriously, I took a slackers job and was kicking butt. Big EUSAFE FOD Boss called me to straighten out a problem the folks in Iceland were having as they were damaging their engines with their deicing procedures. So I cracked a book, this is how you do your jobs guys . . . yet I began falling behind, I couldn’t keep up, perhaps in small measure because I was doing the job the way it always should have been done and it was getting bigger and busier, but my noggin was really dragging me down.
A Russian neurologist at Landshtul Military Hospital had a brilliant idea, since all my pain seemed associated with cervical muscular tension, and why shouldn’t it be, as my neck muscles had been all but locked up for decades, so why not let him hit those pesky cervical muscles and massive over-developed trapezoids with some nice Botox? It’ll just take the edge off . . .
Remember when the dumb chiropractor opened Pandora’s box messing with my back, so disrupting a painless symptom-free fully muscle stabilized joint that it became highly unstable and regularly dropped me to the ground, literally, suppress a scream and find myself on the ground writhing in pain, usually grinding a tennis ball into the agony. Well, Doctor Rus did the same thing to my neck.
I grew up working, I tossed heavy hay bales over twenty foot high onto a moving trailer, carried calves, built homes and buildings, tore out beaver dams by hand year after year, ran circles around most of my fellows in my younger military years and made them mad because they preferred to saunter all lanky and lazy like and that drove me insane. I have wide shoulders and could not remember any time in my life when I could feel skeletal features, it was all muscle, even at this late stage of my career I would carry over my head twice what some of my younger men were simply dragging along the ground. Just the way I was built.
Doctor Rus ended that. His dozen plus injections, in a single sitting, in short order not only relaxed all those muscles, they completely melted them away, all of them. Now I only feel bone, I was grotesquely harmed, and there is no coming back, ever.
Did it help my neck, relief of tension, yay, that’s down, stability? Not only down, it’s gone. That’s the why of my muscles being tense to the point of agony, they were holding things together so they wouldn’t get worse, and they did indeed get worse.
I had long had to force myself to resist running, ever since I went active duty, I loved to run, I’d be bouncing on the balls of my feet and going crazy trying to stick with the walkers on squadron fun runs, yes, the Air Force is silly, sue me, I love airplanes, so I inevitably broke free and ran to the front of the pack, more energy than sense, and I would pay for it, my cranial cervical junction was slaying me, and, unbeknownst to me, it was my brain taking the hardest hit.
Between all the destabilization, and all the vehicular tomfoolery, I was a wreck. Imagine, it’s well below freezing, wet and or white stuff is coming down hard and heavy, and I can’t run from my vehicle to the building. I can’t walk. I can’t even lift my feet. I have to shuffle my way, a couple of inches per foot at a time, slowwwlllly, head held high and as rigid as possible, the least tiniest impact from my feet would and was a hammer blow to the base of my brain, and if it took me a half hour to cover that distance and the entire world was weirded out, well that’s what it took. That happened more times than I could count.
I had to get a waiver to avoid running, got the softest air-soled shoes I could find, spent many days on quarters, on my back on my ceramic floor, days at a time, eventually with the benefit of the first iteration of my broken guy computer set up, to hold a laptop overhead, that arm has been incorporated into my current iteration that uses two arms, one for input the other output, I love it, I wouldn’t be here without it. I am designing a third iteration for which I hope to acquire all new components, I want to put these old ones to another purpose entirely, like a position lockable book holder that can support the largest or smallest books, its sad how few of my hundreds of books I am reading now as it’s too painful and uncomfortable, if not dangerous, how stupid is that?
I remember the day they insist I have to run, I can’t get out of it. It’s below freezing, my cerebral inflammation problem, long past jokingly called Brain Stem Fever, stupidly not realizing decades before it was literally exactly that, has been worsening, greatly, and I have to run in the falling snow. No showboating or burning off excess energy for me, I was all about damaging my brain the least possible. I completed the mile and a half within the required time, and all other parties go inside while I remain outside for a full half hour, beet red, I could swear I heard the snowflakes sizzling as the landed on my head, my ears were burning. I finally leave, little improved.
On another occasion, all snowy and freezy, my brain is on fire, my entire head is beet red, burning with a painful flush, I drive with the AC on full, windows open didn’t help, head held close to the AC vent, in misery, arrive home in twenty minutes and plunge my head into a snow bank. I do the snow bank thing a lot. When I have to shovel snow I wear warm lowers but my top is a T-shirt ripped open in the back because the inflammation is going ever further down my spine and I can barely tolerate to wear a shirt, even in the snow, can’t remember the last time I wore a coat, and despite the falling snow and near zero temps, I have to bend over and melt several handfuls of snow on and over my head, barely relieving the misery but staving off heatstroke.
So I finally see a neurologist in Germany who impressed the Hell out of me, I thought he was a Francophile from his decor but it turned out he’s a history buff who loved the Revolutionary Period. I like people obsessed about history and cool stuff. He had me do an MRI, I’ve had many by this point, and he tells me I need brain surgery and explains my condition, which I promptly tell my guys is Big Brain Syndrome. I get airplane tickets and I’m packed and I’m headed back to the States to see a NeuroSurgeon, whoops, not so fast, the new bane of my existence, the Radiologist, who, ironically even this late as I think of it, were always the banes of my existence, I just never knew that when I went through another MRI it was a moron with a ruler and thirty years past due diagnostic standards that have been interpreting my results for the real doctors, ending in countless shoulder shrugs.
So my new least best friend, the Radiologist, happens to be the final approving officer for my trip to get brain surgery, and I have good solid Church Family waiting to care for me when I get back. But Miss Radiologist is very proud of her special ruler, and will not simply allow my Neurologist and the Radiologist he works with to diagnose this half dying GI, she’s gonna save the Air Force money and get herself some self-righteous endorphins and she places that ruler just so and cancels my flight. No Scalpel For You!! Lovely woman. Happy I never met her.
Back to my Neurologist: Dude, you’re symptomatic, you don’t have to be all the way outside your skull in your relief position, you are clearly symptomatic, there’s a picture of you in my textbook. When you get back to the States get an upright MRI, then they cannot deny you that proof and you can get the help you need.
Then he moved on as Military folk do, and my limitations and troubles have continued to worsen. In good measure due to the fact that the particular group of people my job had usually resided with, moved into Wing Headquarters Building directly below me.
They are inveterate smokers, the worst of the worst, they put the Germans, nay, even the French to shame in their tobacco fetish orgies. I begin dying as never before, go back to new Neurologist, told I need brain surgery, again, denied and defied, again, by my nemesis the ruler wielding morons.
She gets a wild hair and orders a sleep study. I turn out to have Sleep Apnea, absolutely holy cow severe sleep apnea, barely on the charts, and the key bit, it’s not Obstructive Sleep Apnea, meaning my fat neck collapsing while asleep, nope, it’s Mixed Sleep Apnea, meaning a combination of obstructive and Central Apneas. Central Apneas are the brain stem, the autonomic nervous system, taking a vacation, forgetting to tell your diaphragm to do it’s job. Mixed means both forms, but the kicker is that mine is Mixed With a Strong Central Component, meaning it’s much more my brain than anything else.
Thus began a year long process to put me out of the Military; you can’t deploy to a forward Airbase or some such if you depend on a machine to stay alive. My new machine was a pain and the mask, nice inert medical silicone, couldn’t hurt a baby’s bottom, that stuff, yeah? It burned the skin right off my face. Did I mention that my chemical sensitivities began extending to contact chemicals, not just what my olfactory nerves were wanking about? I recall buying cheap sunglasses at an over bright sky fest with my lovely Congolese girlfriend and cute happy kids, and I had to rip them off after fifteen minutes in much pain and looked like one of those idiots that tattooed glasses on his face for the rest of the day. Those little yellow foamy earplugs they give you on airplanes? Put one in, instant agony, within a minute or few my ear canals are bleeding. Ugh.
But, eventually I find something that works well enough, and I recover from a sleep deficit built up over decades I swear. I felt more energy and mental clarity than I had in years, went to work, began saving the world, and crashed with the weirdest flu like maybe Epstein Barr type illness that utterly destroyed me, and I’ve never really recovered from that. In fact, over exertion would always bring that same devastating illness on. I got worse and weaker.
I got a trip to Walter Reed where I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, easily mocked, but much worse and far more consequential than most realize, even than I realized then, what is the most likely cause of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome? As far as the etiology and symptoms I experienced, it’s a Brain Stem problem. I was ultimately granted a VA Disability Rating of 100% Disabled for Chronic Fatigue Syndrome alone, and I have a dozen other acknowledged conditions, all maximally rated as well.
Principal source cause of them all? Every single one of them? Brain Stem.
It is a battle to get a fair Medical Report from the Military as I am being Medically Retired, while I would have to deal with the VA regardless for my actual rating to receive actual compensation for my inability to function, let alone work, it was important that they get it right to avoid compromising my chances of getting a fair and proper disability rating, and they dorked it up the first round, my regular doctor having been away, and he acknowledged my concerns and re-initiated the process yet again. Mind you, my medical records at that point were well over a foot high, but I could leave nothing to chance, this couldn’t be weak sauce, too much was riding on it.
As it works out, the Military and the VA have a pretty slick arrangement. The individual provides their entire Military Medical Record to the VA, along with their disability claim, so from the get go the VA has documentation of everything a GI has suffered, but they don’t keep them, they only use them for the process of establishing a disability rating, then return them.
They do not scan them, they in no fashion transmit any information whatsoever to the VA system. You start anew, deep in the hole, with “Providers” conveniently blinded to your history, only seeing what they have deigned to recognize. So they know I’m rated 100% with a special qualification of being housebound, which is getting very close to needing to be bedridden, for, in fact, I am mostly that.
They mostly only wank or care about blood pressure, I have had to fight for everything since.
First order of business, get that upright MRI. The VA steadfastly denied such a thing even exists. It took me years of looking before a chance encounter at the park allowed me to discover one exists on the Westside of the state, Washington, and even the name of a wonderful doctor who did this lovely woman’s surgery, but there is a bit of a hitch. This lady is a biology and anatomy teacher, she discovered she had a Chiari Malformation and did her own studying, and I would guess from the work she had done she was probably a Chiari 2. They had to remove some of her skull and cut away a large portion of the back sides of her first two vertebrae to accommodate the portion of her brain that resided outside her skull.
So very clearly her condition was quite severe, yet, despite the radiographical evidence, despite her career field and education and intelligence and ability to interpret the significance of all the data, she had to FIGHT to get help, tooth and nail.
I can’t fight tooth and nail and even if I can ever find a way to get myself to the other side of the state to Renton for an upright MRI.
I need someone to order it, to order the appropriate studies which in my case had shortly after those revelations with her became expanded to require examination of more than just my Big Brain Syndrome, I have to ensure that a full and proper investigation of what I like to call Wobbly Noggin Syndrome is accomplished as well. This must also be accomplished via an Upright MRI.
The proper nomenclature for the second compounding and confounding condition is actually CranioCervical Syndrome, wherein the position, angle, and uprightness of someone’s head results in a substantial reduction of blood flow and such to the brain. Which is beyond doubt in years of study and suffering one of my conditions. Few folk have their consciousness dim because they leaned fifteen degrees to wash their hands, or risked passing out flushing the danged toilet, or from daring to look at the ground for a single footstep.
I have several pairs of special prism glasses, not the cheesy plastic ones, but more svelte metal and glass ones that I can see around as well as through, and I must use them to watch TV (No Bob, No Cable, promise.) on my back, I cannot maintain brain function upright.
I cannot tilt my head down to see something. Set me at a desk, give me some papers to deal with, and you have presented me with an existential crisis, it would be too dangerous to attempt, only prism glasses would aid me, yet there’s still a limit there, for I am upright, and my mind will still be compromised by gravity alone. I use my prism glasses to cook, to shave, to avoid even the slightest inclination of my skull, it is burdensome but I am grateful for a tool that limits the problem. I wear mine at the Chiropractors’ waiting room, if I’m not bugging the chicks, and I am the only one reading my phone without destroying my neck in the Chiropractors’ office. They should sell them, people are going to pay for Tech Neck, I tell you all, you don’t want the agony, take care of your neck.
CranioCervical Syndrome has been implicated in Chronic Fatigue Syndrome for many sufferers, and produces far more symptoms than I can express.
But wait, there’s more! I have a Neurologically Dead Bladder I have catheterized for over a decade, I will spare you the disturbing details, but I am grateful that it is locked closed as opposed to open, and for that reason I avoid ever using one kept in place with a container of any sort, I want it to stay locked closed. I wear only cargo shorts or pants, piddle packs go everywhere I do, always. Oh, cause, or rather, proximate source? The Brain Stem, again, and always.
Here’s some more that’s even more disturbing and revelatory, I have severe hypertension, I take four meds to keep me under two hundred. I also have severe hypotension, I have to tweak my meds, on my own at my discretion, I will brook no argument from any physician on the matter, I have seen my BP as low as 80 over 50, as recently as last month, in a day where I also later saw over two hundred. This is insane, the fluctuations aren’t due to my meds, they are in spite of them. If my BP is below 160 I am compromised. That is my target BP, 140 for me is like 90 for normal humans, my brain vasculature is damaged from high blood pressure, to the degree that I’m dependent on elevated pressure to function mentally.
I had a severe hypotension period that saw me go months only able to crawl on the floor, take my meals on th
Oh Maquis!!!
I’m not sure what’s all going on – I can’t take the time your thoughtful post needs to read it all. I just know something is going on with you BIG. I am immediately praying for you that our generous and merciful God will reveal Himself mightily to you and knocking these things out – these concerns that are filling your days and nights – that He knocks them out one by one.
I promise you… I will come back and read to absorb and understand. It may have to be later this evening.
Sending my love to you, Maquis, and may will all have strength and perseverance to stand.
Maquis,
I still have not been able to finish your post. I am sorry. My life and work demands are pulling me from here. I am continuing to pray for you. To suffer at the hands of a mad person… can make oneself go mad! I understand completely trying to resurrect from an attack – and in our case we actually did lose our home – and the instability it creates for our children who are powerless until they are of age to choose.
One thing is certain, the deeds of an evildoer will be known. They can’t hide who they are and though they can come off as intelligent, your “friend”, and concerned – their evil foundation will always bubble up and over. The best I can say is … boundaries… distance.
I pray somehow your children, maybe as they have their own children and understand the tenuous plights of parenting, may come around. However, if they too are destructive than I pray that it be at a respectable distance and somehow an understanding can be developed between you all. If it is unsafe – than I pray a hedge of protection around your body and mind to help you as you continue to recover from the great stresses, which no doubt are affecting your health.
I will try to read more later. Stay strong, brother. We are with you. We at the Tree are family and I would rather be surrounded by a handful of good, sound people – than admired by thousands of those who are not. We keep our needs small, don’t we?
May our God of mercy envelope you today and surround you with his blessings.
Maquis, Have not read all of your story here, but I will.
In the meantime, I have offered a prayer to the Lord on your behalf.
He hears, and He is Mighty to save…
Blessings, and Shalom…
you must have broad shoulders because it is said God does not give more trouble than one can handle in this world. you have encountered many damaging ppl and situations, but have overcome. the treehouse is family. it is our cleft in the Rock. prayers for you, dear one, from all of us.
Argh.
I didn’t actually get it all here, I thought I did, but have a final installment to go, and as insanely long as all this is, it’s still just a synopsis of my situation.
(Continued:)
I had a severe hypotension period that saw me go months only able to crawl on the floor, take my meals on the floor, sit on the floor of the shower when I could rustle up the energy to do so, and could not lift my head above the level of my heart without my skull exploding in pain, I can’t even wrap my head around the whys and hows of that last bit. The VA saw this, they’ve seen these extreme lows, had to steady me so I wouldn’t fall as they tested me standing. What is the proximate origin of severe hypotension, and hypertension for that matter? The Brain Stem of course.
Another delightful tidbit: Hypotension is the chief and most defining symptom of DysAutonomia. What is DysAutonomia? It is the progressive degradation of the Autonomic Nervous System, ie, my Brain Stem.
Fun fact, I suffer POTS, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, wherein my heart will suddenly race so fast it pumps poorly and I collapse in a puddle of panting sweat praying the painful terrifying sensation ends, and it generally takes about ten minutes to recover and begin being able to risk moving again. Proximate origin? Brain Stem. There are young people with this syndrome alone who are provided specially trained dogs to care for their emergency needs. I’d sure like that, but the VA doesn’t roll that way.
During my chief HypoTension period, they are merely episodic now, I hope, anyway, during that time I had a day with a period of several hours, waking hours, where my brain failed to tell my body to breathe, at all. I went about seven hours consciously directing every single breath, it I didn’t command it and control it all the way through in and out, I would breathe no more, I would not have survived the day. It was scary to risk going to sleep when your brain isn’t breathing, but fortunately my CPAP enabled me to get through the night alive, and if the crisis occurs again, I will go straight to my machine.
One might ask me, why don’t you go to the emergency room? I could be in the emergency multiple times a week with legitimate and serious complaints. Their processes will almost certainly fail to detect anything of note, and I will be harassed and possibly banned. I literally had an a abusive yelling monster who reported me for challenging him, I was threatened with loss of services, I refused to see the bastard again and it took years to get a new doctor. Yes, the VA is profoundly dysfunctional, they aren’t hiring the best.
Clearly the Strong Central Component of my severe sleep apnea has the potential to be far more severe, considering it manifested in the daytime for several hours, and still messes with me on occasion, and this should be severely distressing to any health care provider, but nada, even though it’s difficult to imagine anything that screams Brain Stem louder than that.
I indubitably am experiencing a form of DysAutonomia. It is doubtless a function of both my mild but symptomatic Chiari Zero Malformation and my not so mild CranioCervical Syndrome.
I have yet to encounter a VA physician at any level competent to discuss these subjects, let alone diagnose them. While I am Jonesing for a diagnosis to understand the condition, and of course most hopefully in order to address it, ameliorate it, and hopefully cure it if possible, but beyond all that, without a diagnosis I can receive no educated and informed Prognosis.
I literally do not know what to expect, how urgent my plans should be and in what direction, and while I want to get better and stay in this world, I am only Sixty Years Old for goodness sake, I actually have to tell all my French Fillies to call me Opa, not telling them that it is in great part to remind me that I am far too old for them all, but my spirit, my heart, my loves and passions, and often even my mind, are very young, and it helps me avoiding the missteps of Spenser Tracy in Judgment At Nuremburg, who in a brief outing smiled at a young German woman who spoke to him a short phrase, where upon he turns to another and asks what she had said and was crestfallen if not a bit chastised when the answer for Guten Tag, Opa was Good Day, Grandfather. All too apt for my often overenthusiastic self, I do like people, so wish I could find kind ones to hang around with, good grief, I am up for a single car Trump Road Rally right the heck now, but not alone.
Anyway, I deserve to understand where I am going, I know more than anyone where I am, and that frankly disgusts me as much as it frightens me. I have explained Chiari Zero Malformation, CranioCervical Syndrome, and DsyAutonomia to my current PA or whatever he his, my doctor substitute, but at least he hasn’t said “Your symptoms are bizarre” then canceled my referral to a competent outside neurologist to begin the process of getting the Real diagnostics and imaging and testing I need.
That’s right, after a decade of fighting, my previous sad sack of a “Provider” finally granted my long coveted consultation, then, many months later during the beginning of the Plandemic, he quietly canceled that referral, noted in my records that he sent me a letter explaining his childish fabrications to explain away my impending brain death, but he lied, I never received such letter, he never sent it, the treacherous weasel didn’t have the courage to do even that, and it was only during a phone conversation with my clinical pharmacist striving to deal with my whack blood pressure that it all but inadvertently came out.
Now my current “Doc” won’t refer me outside, ordered an other worthless supine MRI telling me that was part of the process of battling through to get me outside to what I needed, but he ended up caving to my eternal Nemesis the Radiologist who sold him the same old song and dance and he won’t do any thing for me. And he has done absolutely no research on the three conditions I asked him to. I will demand before my next appointment that he do so, but I should hand deliver a letter to that effect, the front office nurses are utter ditzes, nearly called for a straight jacket when I appear to provide a sample for which they not only failed to submit the order, they claimed to my face I was never called and told were then submitting said order so come on in, only when a most officious person was about to blow her cool did the dork from the back room holler out and fess up her error.
There is no room for such disrespect even if a Veteran was in error, kind and quiet, not threatening, full of pertinent details, why is he the one on the hot seat? Graceless and unworthy of their post.
Now, with the Vaxx Injured swarming Neurologists with their terrible woes, not to mention the likely reduction of their own numbers via said Vaxx, there’s a very real possibility that I am now flat out of luck, especially as we are heading into Election Variant Season very soon . . .
I have done all I can do on my own. I have found a very good Upper Chiropractic Doctor and he works with me, he is not rough, though I have had to learn to tolerate without cringe or tension a cervical drop table. I see them every two weeks without fail. Quite often I stumble in barely able to walk, white as a sheet, BP way low, and walk out feeling good and taking a bit of a drive rather than driving straight home as is my sad habit. Had my new Subaru for well over a year now, and have barely put it over two thousand miles so far. That is so not me. I love driving and exploring, but I can’t get far from my bed and other needful things that I can’t risk using at burger joint in the boonies, one urinal cake and I am done, how will I get home, how will I stay breathing if it puts me down hard enough to need a nap? A mere sane partner in crime would enable so much more freedom and opportunities. If I can’t or shouldn’t drive home, switching seats would be a mighty blessing.
My neck is incredibly unstable. My Atlas to Skull is the most unstable, this is where the most damage from my first car accident was actually done, where my head I surmise wasn’t too terribly far from separating from the rest of me. My number three vertebrae is also quite problematic, and my Chiro Doc is rare in understanding sometimes Number Three is the key to instability in Number Zero. Really cool guy spent a couple decades working in Australia, back this very year, fun to talk with.
I do enjoy visiting there, kind people not the VA and a safe environment, the VA is steadily poisoning its facility with fragrances despite their promises to abide my repeated pleas, it’s only a matter of time before I won’t be able to go there at all, not that I know I have time.
My Chiro people are also into French! All three of them! One is married to a Russian, so we play with that too though she is at the South location for a someone’s natal break, and I don’t go to the South side as my crazies live that way, I will not risk an encounter. Anyway, we babble, I teach a few things, we swap music suggestions, I bring them CDs, it’s a small thing but it is a joy.
I have discussed with my main Chiro guy what I think might fix me. Par for my course, it’s never been done, the technology doesn’t exist, but if I can imagine it then the right people can build it.
I have a high end cervical traction device at home, I haven’t used it in years, I daren’t. Despite knowing beyond doubt that it will let my brain breathe for lack of a better word, despite the wonderful miraculous refreshing mystery of it, it will separate my sloppy CranioCervical Junction and drop it in the wrong place when I’m done, a bad place, very possibly a fatal place. Yet, doubtless the imposition and maintenance of traction at the correct specific points would be a life changer, and saver.
I envision wearing a Halo, for a very long time, with not only skin piercing studs to grip my cranium, but also flesh transiting localizing spikes that would engage all the effective vertebrae, to draw them into a correct alignment and spacing so a process of stabilization and healing can begin. I don’t know what that process would look like, have a couple of thoughts, mostly nutritional and injections and possibly some electronic and magnetic stimuli, no knives, I’m willing have bone cut out and my dura expanded, but no cutting of muscle, bad bad bad.
I know if I was to sit down with an adept in one or two fields, a lively and productive conversation would take place and very possibly another of my hundreds of inventions and concepts on the drawing boards and a good dozen in existence as tools, could be brought to fruition in a fashion that could bless many thousands of others. Louis Braille took two for the team, I’d be happy to be Patient Zero for my Cervical Restoration Device and Process.
It’s all very weird and I’ve barely touched upon the actual daily grind required for me to survive. My body does not manage its fluids well, it takes great effort to keep my lungs clear, I must drink at least one and half gallons of water a day, I’ve had sustained periods needing more than two and a several week period requiring four gallons a day. That’s insane, but I would have fallen deathly ill with Bronchitis in a single day of omitting any of the many measures required throughout the day, and an unrecoverable bout of pneumonia to follow that in quick succession. I have to put a bit of sea salt in my water jugs to ensure I don’t wash out all my electrolytes.
The weird thing, while my body can’t move phlegm without the water, a special herbal tea, many other things, to include being upright to stimulate the movement, but alternating with prone to allow the water to get to my lungs, it simply won’t get there if I have to rely on my body to fight gravity to do it. But where is the phlegm coming from and why can’t I stop that, so nothing exists that could slide to my lungs as I sleep?
It is being created in my sinus cavities because of Cerebral Inflammation, insane, its a real thing, there are nutraceuticals out there for sufferers of such, but they are way to weak, and expensive, for my advanced condition, I tried.
My Cerebral Inflammation is a constant ever present misery and danger. It does get bad enough, sitting shirtless in a cold room, for me to experience the beginnings of heatstroke, in not very much time at all. That is absolutely insane.
I am a mite sparse up top. I compensate a bit with a fluffy white beard, but I love hats, I have wonderful hats, my favorites are from Australia and South Africa, I acquired both in Germany. I can no longer wear them. The most brutal cold, the hardest rain, my brain cannot endure the massive thermal runaway event that would begin almost immediately.
I sleep on ice. My pillow is a combination of a camping ice filled hot water bottle and a Chattanooga Cold Pac over that as a essentially a very good cold conducting cushion, wrapped in a pillow case, leveled with a folded towel, covered with some fabric that I remove during the night to maintain the coolness. Heat always awakens me, if I could devise a better system then I could reliably sleep a solid twelve hours a night, that’s what my brain wants right now, I have had times I needed far more. No one is going to build one for me, they most assuredly don’t even exist. Frankly, if I didn’t have a lot of adaptations and devices I built myself, and some fortuitous happy accidents of Providence, I would have expired long ago.
Obviously, Cerebral Inflammation is dangerous, and is most assuredly being driven by my brain stem issues.
Strangely, the inflammation continues to extend ever lower down my spine, it seems it is soon to meet my waist, and in order to sleep, the room has to be cold, sixty is the best I can afford to manage, and my CPAP machine would rain out the humidifier vapors and I would be breathing cold water and awaken with pneumonia or close to it. I have Mike Lindell’s wonderful bedding, including his heaviest goose down comforter, I wear heavy socks as my feet are always cold now, and I have to wrap and contort myself and my bedding to expose my head, neck, and my entire back, but cover everything else because it’s cold! Of course the ceiling fan is on high. I can’t lay down without a cold pack, I don’t leave the house without one or two and a blue ice block to keep them cold, to put upon my headrest at my Occiptial Junction, that’s where the fire starts. If during sleep the least fabric falls across any of the noted areas, I will wake up to feelings of extreme heat, not uncommonly preceded by dreams of a conflagration.
If I were an old Japanese grandmother I’d have been taken up the mountain to spend my final night many years ago.
I have had sufficient experience with certain medical devices I’ve made or modded, and my own responses, to believe that I can create a certain kind of brace that would stabilize my neck as I slept, would hold my head at the optimum angle, way back to open up whatever to moving in that position, it can be like magic, and also to apply a very gentle limited traction that would encourage the maintenance of the space created. I don’t havve the room or functional capacity to build it just yet, but it is real in my mind, I see it, I almost feel it, and I also feel the need to to ensure it has a cooling system that runs continuously as it would be in contact with my entire spine and cannot be allowed to incite inflammation. A potential game changer. If I could hook up with a builder of braces and such maybe much could be done, but the cooling system is the worrisome bit, I am not the least willing to risk a nighttime fluid spill of freezing substances as I sleep, would be so great to hook up with an adept.
I told my sister and it’s true, someone could be rich if they worked with me to get my whackness into the real world!
I am convinced the VA is designed to do worse than abandon us on mountains, not to mention the monsters that stalk this world like never before, and I want to be here to help fight them, in the fashion Heaven has already afforded me, though much strength would be such a blessing.
I cannot fabricate a Prognosis on my own. I can a Diagnosis, and I will freely curse any self-anointed “Provider” that disputes it, they’ve forced me to do it, and Heaven has empowered me to do so. I know that I am suffering from a form of DysAutonomia, it’s etiology is born of cerebral and spinal insults both traumatic and chronic, the inflammation progressing down the spinal cord is a sign of injury induced DysAutonmomia. DysAutonomia is typically fatal, typically with a ten year survival with substantial decline throughout; but I don’t believe mine is typical.
My tinnitus is insane, Brain Stem, of course, my vision weirdnesses, Brain Stem, and for grins and giggles, the vision center of the brain is not far above that benighted region of my poor brain. But my tinnitus is highly variable, and has only remained insane aviary levels of volume and weirdness for a matter of a few weeks, wherein I have experienced substantial declines in many areas.
But I am a stubborn fellow, and I cannot explain how my hearing was fully restored. I know why I had bad hearing, I know how it came back, because my brain stem decided once again, after a decade off the job, to control my eustation tube sphincters and now pressure is properly and automatically balanced, my ear drums are now free to vibrate normally, that was only a brain issue in the sense it wasn’t controlling those little control valves on the pressure tubes.
Why my brain decided to function in that regard again? I can’t say. Certainly I thank Heaven, and that’s not the only thing that has stopped working and returned to function either, so it would seem possible it might not be all irreversibly downhill, but I might be reading too much into it, hoping too hard, some come and go may well be part of the general decay process. But I have some reason for hope, I simply am not allowed any access whatsoever to a competent human with whom I can have a conversation regarding these matters. The VA is intimidated by conversations, they know little, they are not empowered to explore on our behalves apparently, any they are most certainly instructed to deny anything that might cost them money, especially beyond their direct premises. It is cruel and inhumane, Lincoln would condemn them without reservation I am certain.
I have also had strange bizarre events that seem almost epileptic in nature, wherein if feels like my brain has done a somersault, like it went on a carnival ride, though I hadn’t moved at all for several minutes.
I have had similar events the past several months where movement on my screen, or a bright flashing light, sends me reeling and I have to pinch my eyes shut and ride it out.
I truly have no idea what to think of these, I only know of who will fail to find an answer even if, again, he promises to do so.
I am experiencing significant cognitive decline. I was the walking dictionary, I never spelled out loud, the guys always came to me for a spelling and I told them to give me some paper, and I would simply write it straight out, no matter how complex, I don’t recall a single time I was ever stumped or at a loss. Yet now, I am struggling mightily. It has greatly slowed my typing, and I don’t dare go without my spell check. I am as liable to demand it recognize my word and add it to my dictionary as I am to accept its corrections, but more and more it’s a battle of correcting, it’s somewhat maddening.
I don’t appear to be having the same problem with French, or perhaps not to the same severity, no idea why.
I often begin a comment and halfway through either have no idea where I was going, or have simply lost my ability to concentrate in a single briefest of moments, and I can only erase it and give up. This is happening quite frequently now, and I can no longer retain a complete thought when attempting to capture President Trump’s rallies for our beloved Treehouse. My submissions are getting shorter and shorter.
Obviously, this missive might seem to argue against much of that, but I have been battling my spelling and clumsy fingers throughout and I have committed a great deal of time to this, it’s overdue, I’m feeling verbose, I figure I can always beg your patience if it is too much.
In all honesty I don’t know what to ask aside from prayers.
I am in great need of understanding and insight.
I need competence and compassion from those that exhibit little of either.
I am greatly concerned that I will suddenly be unable to care for myself, and have none worthy of trust to aid me.
My neighbors are content to ignore my residence as I go weeks at a time without stepping out, I have a strong aversion to perishing and being found out terribly late, and my neighbors looking down upon me and mocking me as is their natures, though I’m sure they ‘d happily get some barbs in to any that might listen, they are nurses after all, and they are proud to make you know it, even though after an hour of explaining my predicament and need for the slightest least intrusive and burdensome compassion possible on multiple occasions, I have been refused. They are hard hearted glad-handing swells willing to shine anyone on, as shallow souls as I never wish to live alongside ever, and I am betimes in terror of suffering a stroke or other debilitating event that puts me at the mercy of their like, if not their actual selves, its a horror to consider, I would be shown no mercy, I have already been refused every one I ever sought from them. And I have done them kindnesses too, many, to include during one of their vacations sweeping up about twenty pounds of concrete spalls from their use of a cheap ice melter, they apparently despaired the concrete ever ceasing to spall, but it already had stopped long before, and it was in their tires and the street and they complained about it, but never touched it, so I did it for them, two hours labor, as a kindness, and they said nothing and a week after when I mentioned it to her she pretended she didn’t hear me and didn’t respond at all, I think somehow she interpreted it as an offense, having performed a kindness on her behalf, the nerve of me! I will never understand them and I don’t want to, I just want to be free of their cruelty and never subject to their like again, especially not in long term medical setting where I could never escape or defend myself.
One of the funniest if saddest things about this whole nightmare, is if the Derps ever come for me and don’t shoot me outright, they couldn’t keep me locked up for years on end. I doubt they could keep me alive a week, maybe not even a day or two, even if they tried to. They couldn’t and wouldn’t abide my needs, no one could or would, at least, none institutionally, and none private that I know of either. They are denying a man his CPAP machine in their DC Gaol! The last time I dared a trip, sans machine, and risked a nap in my car, I awoke choking and reeling from a dream of being embraced face to face by a grinning skeleton sitting on my lap; back on the road, nap time’s over! Denial of such a device as CPAP is slow motion murder, not to mention torment, I cannot risk as much as a catnap without, if I awoke, I would be more exhausted than I began. I would not myself long survive the denial of power to my home, they seem poised to eliminate some many medically fragile souls in the all too near future, and I have the distinct sense that most of us consider ourselves yet of value and offer all they can to bless others, though that’s not terribly utilitarian of me I know.
I do have a fair sized home. I can restrict most of the insane cold to my own room. I do have a large store of sustenance, and water in work too, a nice quantity, and I have a wonderful spot to conceal a cistern to capture and store non-potable water.
I do find myself increasingly unable to complete cooking tasks beyond the microwave and tea kettle, though I’ve sufficient to bless another or more. I have a third of an acre, the poorest soil, cruel neighbors that refused to modify a fence to permit me access to the rear of my property, a fence they themselves hated, imposed by an uncooperative neighbor with a demanding spouse he daren’t defy, now preserved and reinforced with concrete and steel on behalf of a demanding spouse that he daren’t defy. The irony is so thick I need waders around here. But I could put a roll up door on the backside of my garage, and tow my trailer straight through to bring in topsoil and biochar and wonderful stuff to build marvelous raised beds. Could I build and tend such now? Not a chance, in the future, I certainly hope so, but I have biased my preparations accordingly, towards sustenance on hand, in quantity, so while the garden remains a dream, I am not condemned to pretending it would be my salvation. With the help of a sane kind soul, maybe it would be closer to time to build such, and to build the devices that will in many instances require fitting to my person in a fashion I could not effectuate, my contortionist days are long past.
I have a beautiful soapstone woodstove that is uninstalled, the crazies wouldn’t help me, compromised my finances in ways too whack to believe, and they would have immediately destroyed the thousand dollar catalytic converter within it because following my instructions would be slavery (TM), so they would do what they wilt, and the means of ensuring survival in a winter time crisis simply holds no value in the short term minds of the temperate zone evolved class. They cannot see beyond their own noses, too busy cutting them off to spite my face! https://s.w.org/images/core/emoji/14.0.0/svg/1f602.svg I think I’m past woozy right now, I most definitely overdid it on the caffeine thing for the rally!
If Heaven blessed me with a sane kind housemate I often contemplate how much more I could accomplish, what I could risk, what limits I could test knowing I wouldn’t be left to succumb alone in my yard or garage. But my needs are indeed bizarre, not unseemly, but not likely to be honored by any but the extraordinarily kind, it’s not easy asking a lady to forgo all fragrance, though natural vanilla is not only safe for me, it is the most wholesome and inviting scent I know.
I have serious suspicions that the fragrance industry is part of the harming humanity horde; they do use industrial waste from other industries where it is highly regulated and expensive to dispose of, but profitable in the completely unregulated fragrance industry. This is one of the most limiting aspects of my condition, people just don’t understand and/or just don’t care that they are harming others, and likely themselves as well. All unnatural and sadly many natural fragrances are chemical warfare agents, not only to my brain, but I literally smell them as a mish mash of noxious chemicals, no matter what effect they might intend to effect, it never reveals itself to me in any recognizable semblance of a desirable odor. Unfortunately, this means I cannot buy any used vehicle, everyone has been poisoned, most especially by the chemical sloshing preppers eager to mask “offending odors” with poison.
So I can only really ask I suppose for prayers, for guidance, for a spirit of kindness and compassion to fall upon those that afflict me with cruelty and those that deny me the care I need.
I crave companionship but such may be a bridge too far for a man almost completely bedridden and getting worse, and I suppose I might be a mite territorial inasmuch as I have come to not appreciate strangers in my home, the crazies abused guest privileges in fashions I can’t bring myself to tell, much stranger danger, there are respectful ways to conduct oneself and I can scarcely recall any that I’ve been involved with that ever truly were capable of quiet kind dignity.
I am so grateful for all your compassion and kindness, it has been such a joy and an honor to participate in the Treehouse and I hope to continue to do so for a long time, and more effectively than I have of late. I know you’d kindly deny it but I know well how often I have found myself unable to focus and remain engaged in threads. I have begun choosing those I feel I can best contribute, and maybe if I can manage it peruse the others quickly not for content but for new names and familiar patterns, it has worked for me, though I have had at least one day I recall not being able to engage at all, anything, anywhere.
Some of my symptoms have become frighteningly troublesome. The nutso inflammation alone is a sure killer, and an absolute guarantee of dementia, and I cannot impose on my “Provider” (I despise that Socialist term!) to even explore pharmaceuticals suitable for purpose. Drugs are far from my first choice, but if it keeps me out of a grave I am not yet prepared for, then fine, sure, whatever, what’s with the delay, lets do it. Too many increasingly strange things happening in the brain case. I have many days in recent months felt at death’s door, not out of maudlin self-pity, but because I felt very much on the edge of a precipice, my mind greatly dimming and its subsidiary organs behaving oddly.
Most suffering DysAutonomia expire of heart failure. Not due to some cardiovascular disease process, merely because the brain stem decided to not attend to that duty for a while, and it never got around to getting back to its job in time, if ever, to keep one’s soul from slipping away. I’ve had substantial heart weirdnesses for quite some time, been hospitalized in the past, the first time hilariously enough, I was diagnosed with a certain kind of glitch that came back repeatedly, yet ended and never came back the day I escaped my first Borderline nightmare. With all the bizarre thumps and pains and rhythms of my later years, I never had that bullfrog leaping about my chest once.
Anyway, such suggests at some point it’s not a matter of a lingering farewell, one simply stops, and I want to know how close I might be to such, and if I can forestall it. I truly have been very weak and unwell despite my sense of inarticulateness on the matter; some sensations might have words for them, but I don’t know them, and many terrifying cerebral events that feel like a slow motion stroke produce sensations so bizarre it’s difficult to retain a sense of them, and they quickly fade away despite the sometimes terror they create, soon faded away and subsumed in the new oddities du jour. I meant no alarm yesterday, but if I hadn’t seen this day I would not have been surprised, and I am scarcely better this day.
It has become increasingly intense and weird and inexplicable, I don’t know certain what it might signify, I do know that God Always Gets A Vote and maybe I’ll be granted another miracle, I do know absolutely that I need that, I know not the form, simply the need for my weakness to be resolved if that is to be, as it is to be, I will walk the path I am shown, should I be blessed to recognize it is there.
I need to explore acupuncture, and BEMER therapy has been recommended to me, a local practitioner claims to have cured her DysAutonomia with it, but she has not responded to my inquiries about it, it, I wonder if a mechanically imposed DysAutonomia is akin to other forms, again, I have none to talk to, not even those in the trenches, I can’t get no respect or something I guess.
BEMER is expensive, five to six grand for a machine, it’s a form of magnetic resonance therapy, surely willing to give it a try, the price is a pittance if it succeeded, but I’d rather rent first if I can gain some cooperation that has been less than forthcoming for reasons I cannot fathom. I often ask myself when a road is blocked if Heaven wants me to smash through or reconsider my course, still unsure on this one. I think acupuncture needs to be scheduled Monday.
Part of the strangeness of my world these days is that I do not awaken to the thrill of a new day and remember exactly where I was in the project I left off on and I was eager to get straight to it. Nowadays, despite a list, despite a calendar, anything I might have positioned in an attempt to remind me, I awaken a blank slate, I never can remember that there might be a list, that there is always a calendar, I can never get enough sleep or feel sufficiently rested. I tend to remain prone as long as I can cool my head and no unignorable demands present themselves to force me to get up. Sad, but what can one expect when truly bedridden? Where’s the rush to rise when one must quickly lie down again.
I get out in brief bouts now, but I really mean brief, the store two miles away down the hill and back might well be more than I can endure, quite sad, especially as that’s the only kind of place I can meet people and talk their ears off these days, and I need that, and often they do too, especially mes filles francaise, we have too much fun.
In High School I thought French teachers were the silliest things. Now it’s a dream, an unobtainable one, but I am silly and passionate about things silly and serious, it would suit me fine.
And on that note, I shall conclude this missive. I began with the intent to email this then post it on the Prayer Thread, but it is absolutely huge so I’ll see what you think before I risk blowing anything up.
Goodnight, All Blessings To You All,
Maquis
Oh my, Maquis. It’s 3:00 in the morning as I write this, so unfortunately I will have to return to read this at a more suitable hour of the day so I can be more specific in prayer. But until I do, I have asked the Lord to give you strength & help with this great need. The Lord keep you & bless you.
Thank you, Brother.
Maquis, I have read your story, and the need for prayer.
Although I do not “know” you from other threads here, your heartfelt post touches me.
I am saddened for all the suffering you’ve endured, and even now.
We all are experiencing the pain of evil – and some of us, more than others.
But God has promised to make good out of it – for those who love Christ.
Here’s a link to a brief article that may help you.
It comforts me greatly, and I refer to it at times.
I hope you will read it as I would like to ask a question or two.
https://www.challies.com/articles/the-valley-of-the-shadow/
* Have you been born again?
* Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Savior, and the Lord of your life?
If so, my friend, He is your Confidence, your Strength, your Help, your Peace, your Answer.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd, and He will safely lead you for rest of your days.
A prayer:
Here we are, O God, humbly lifting our hearts to You.
You are our Creator and Redeemer, and our Blessed Assurance.
We cannot make it without Your blessing and Your Presence, O Lord.
Maquis desperately needs You, and we ask for Your mercy and grace toward him.
Please make a way for Maquis, dear Lord, as only You can do.
All things are possible with You, and nothing is too difficult.
Please guide all of Maquis’ thoughts and feelings.
Direct his every step, instruct his mind, and sustain him by Your powerful Word.
Rescue him from the surrounding darkness, and deliver him into Your safekeeping.
Calm his fears, and fill him with Your Peace that surpasses all understanding.
May Your will be done in his life, today and forever, because Your Will is perfect and good.
Lord, Draw Maquis to Yourself with Your lovingkindness.
Comfort him with Your tender care for all of his days.
Cause him, O God, to see Your faithfulness – that He is precious in Your sight, and You will never leave him or forsake him.
You’ve promised this to those who trust Your Son, and we are grateful.
May You be glorified, O Lord, through all of these great trials.
We give You thanks ahead of time for what You will do.
We ask this in the name of Jesus, and for His sake alone.
Amen.
Shalom, Shalom.
🙏🏻
That was wonderful, Miss Della, thank you.
I am still feeling my way through some darkness, wondering how to direct my path without being led astray and betrayed again, but our Heavenly Father and His love is an absolute in my understanding and experience.
Marquis, Hope you’ll return to the prayer thread for support and prayer whenever you need a lift.
Others genuinely care about you and your situation!
After reading all the comments to you, I noticed how each person reached out in their own special way.
No two were alike.
Marquis, it is the Lord using different people – with varied abilities – to minister to you.
But, it is He Who is ultimately reaching for you.
Each one offered certain words for you – as God directed them.
And, the underlying message is: God loves you, and others do, too.
I pray that you will know that!
I’m sorry for the heart-rending circumstances you’ve had, Marquis.
Life is hard, and shouldn’t be this way.
But, sometimes it just stinks.
People can be selfish, uncaring, and plain mean.
Tho, not everyone is cruel and heartless.
God will help you with whatever you need; He can send loving people your way!
Even though your circumstances loom large – God is bigger!
I was born and raised in brokenness, Marquis, so I know about emotional scars.
I’ve learned, like you, that people do betray us. Even those closest that shouldn’t.
I also discovered that the Lord will never betray us.
He is always faithful – even when we’re not faithful to Him.
We can depend on God with our whole being.
Many days my prayer is honestly simple:
“God, I need You today. Please help me.”
And He always does — one day at a time.
Marquis, I pray that the Lord will lead you and direct your paths for the rest of your days.
Listen for His voice;
He will guide your steps, as He shines Light upon your darkness.
I also ask God to help your faith and hope in Him grow, and not falter in these difficult times.
This morning, I came across the prayer below; the words are my heart’s words, too.
I leave it here for you — and anyone who can use it.
Thank you for allowing me to share some truths that I’ve learned — and cling to.
God is all we’ve got … and He really is all we need.
Blessings prayed for you.
🥰
Sorry for misspelling your name, Maquis!
My apology… autocorrect is a “know-it-all.”
Autosmell stinks! 😁
Merci pour tout.
😂😂😂
le bienvenu.
Dear Maquis,
I read your posts the other day and have been keeping you in prayer. I wanted to re-read them before posting.
I am curious, given your history and symptoms, have your medical providers ever ruled out the possibility of you having an occult CSF (cerebrospinal fluid) leak?
I will be praying for you.
Miss Flora, I got the message you forwarded through the mail room, Ad rem got it to me today and I just got through going through all the links, and some beyond.
I cannot in the least rule this possibility out, in fact, I have experienced many symptoms beyond any listed that actually would support such a diagnosis, including disturbing sensations during cervical traction that at those very moments led me to fear such a condition, even of having induced or aggravated it, though it never occurred to me it could have been an enduring condition that might have been at the base of a great many of my problems, especially as that was thirty years ago.
I do still have very frequent moments where a certain change of position of my head when upright induces a sense of fluid movement, often a cooling sensation. I had thought it might have been CSF moving through the CCJ one way or another . . . dang, never occurred to me it could have been moving out of the spinal dura, but it makes perfect sense.
If I might ask, what is your profession? Presuming that is where you might have gained your understanding of the condition you suggested I consider. I so rarely have the opportunity to speak with anyone that has a clue about such things, which in the general population is nothing that could be put to any one’s charge, but in a medical setting I should have encountered people that I can have open productive conversations with but the ones I’ve actually had were more rare than hen’s teeth.
With the low lying brain stem, definitely herniated cerebral tonsils, as proven on supine MRIs but insufficient to set off alarm bells about Chiari Malformation, being combined with intracranial hypotension could explain so much it’s not only not funny, it’s borderline infuriating because the severity of my symptoms fairly screams that my brain and brain stem are being beaten about by the gentlest of daily activities, yet none ever considered or suggested this possibility.
Now I have a third potential etiology that sits right at the intersection of the other two, whose resolution could essentially moot addressing treatment of one if not both of the others; if my brain is lifted, refloated as it were, with sufficient intracranial pressure so that it is no longer jammed down by gravity and thus constricted and beaten, it could eliminate the Chiari concern and minimize the CranioCervical instability concern.
I so still suspect some form of stabilization of the CCJ is in order, but I have a feeling that’s exactly where they will have to go to correct a CSF leak if they can diagnose and locate it.
My chiropractor and I were already getting close to contemplating putting me in a Halo to allow some spacing to take place and hopefully allow it to stabilize. I would be seeking some regenerative therapies at the critical junctures, most notably my CCJ, as well; I don’t want to do blades.
I don’t want to do brain surgery either! While I don’t especially fear a little removal of bone and expansion of the dura, such surgery is not a guarantee, and one’s brain can end up slumping down even further. ESPECIALLY if one has cranial hypotension!!! The possibility is very real that such typical Chiari surgery could have been precisely the worst approach for me.
Possibility. Can’t get ahead of myself, but this has more explanatory power than anything anyone has suggested in twenty years.
It’s also funny that some of the coping measures short of treatment are exactly things I’ve been doing; hyper-hydration, extra salt consumption, not to mention all the cautionary things about positioning and movement. It’s mighty strange to be well over two gallons down and being parched, endlessly thirsty, I’ve even experienced that when I was forced to do four gallons a day. Quelle une vie!
I look forwards to hearing from you about this, I am a bit excited as I suppose you can imagine, and intend to explore it in depth. Ad rem can effectuate an email address exchange if you’d like to communicate via that medium, I’m cool either way, but surely open to it.
Thank you so much, and as I’ve expressed to all the wonderful Treepers offering prayers and well wishes, I simply have no words to convey my appreciation of your kindness.
All glory to God, who answers prayer!
I will get in touch through Ad rem. Pray without ceasing!
We have lift-off! Indeed…all glory to God.
Maquis,
I read your moving and lengthy post. If you don’t mind, I will pray for you. You are a strong man and will survive all adversity.
God Bless 🌷🙏🌻
Aspen
Thank you, so very much appreciated, blessings in return.
Hello fellow treeper. First off…aren’t you the poster that gives up to the minute report on PTrump rallies??? If so, thank you!
after reading through your long posts…I admit I skipped around and kept thinking of one of my brothers who as a child was bullied. He was small for his age and being a younger sister I didn’t really notice anything but in retrospect I suppose he was on the spectrum for Asperger syndrome. Highly intelligent as I came to know him as an adult. He was in the military and was in a bad car wreck of his own doing and sustained a brain stem injury. I do not equate his personality with yours…but his writing and musings similar. He “divorced” the family years ago and allows no communication. You don’t seem to be angry as my brother is…yet your writings and feelings seem familiar in STYLE.. My brother hates God with a passion last I heard and you don’t but rather reaching out to God.
All that being said…you are very articulate and highly intelligent from what I glean. I think you are terribly lonely and sad about your ex and daughter. Anyone would be! Your neighbors…oh my we all struggle with them at times if we live in a neighborhood. Yours seem to be creeps.
There is some air cleaner being hawked by a few podcasters…edanpure I think. Might be worth your time investigating this. should take care of the dryer sheets giving you migraines.
Todays medicine is not the medicine profession I grew up with. I don’t know how old or young you are but if I were you I would look into wellness care…getting well…find a functional doctor if you can, nutritionist …they would likely be able to help you or at least be able to get you to a better quality of life. You seem to have an allergy to certain scents . They might be able to help with that too.
I sense you are pretty down dear sir. Treepers are here to Buck you up and cheer you on and give you free (and possibly worth every Penny haha) suggestions. Keep your faith in God. Know that you are loved in the treehouse and most importantly God loves you. You are still here for a reason and have much to offer. Fear not. And when you do…when some weird symptom arises…reach out here. Many natural remedy people hang out here and might be able to offer some advice.
I add you to my ever lengthening prayer list. May God give you some peace and restorative rest tonight.
Oui, c’est moi!
I’m remarkably good for the condition and situation, the Treehouse is my family, I am not alone.
Thank you.
Dear Marquis,
In Jesus Holy Name: Be Healed.
Amen! 😁
“Anxiety weighs down the heart,but a kind word cheers it up.” Proverbs 12:15.
I don’t have anything useful to offer you my friend,as I am completely ignorant of most of the things that you describe.But,I can offer you kind words.
You are a remarkable man whom the Lord,our God,loves.
I can also compassionately pray for your well being,and hope you to know that I send my love to you too as well brother.
May the Lord help our friend Maquis with his ailments,and give him respite from his debilitations. Amen.
Kind words are blessings rare and appreciated, thank you.
First, thank you to you all, I am so grateful for your prayers and well wishes.
I am a tiny bit back from the precipice it seems, still mighty limited, but gaining a better sense of how I might go forwards, slowly gaining grounds for hope.
I am determined to obtain the imaging I need, and will get across the state somehow to get it done, even on my own dime if I must. I have work to do to ensure the appropriate studies are done, I have an additional condition to research and obtain imaging and testing for now in consequence of having appealed to Treepers for prayers, Miss Flora made some suggestions that may well pan out . . . I will address those with her directly.
I am forever grateful for the kindness and holiness of Treepers, and the opportunity to work together to save our land and bless our world; there’s nothing like it anywhere else, the sense of purpose has kept me going and begging Heaven for more time to stay in the fight.
Please forgive me if I don’t get to address each response, I find myself overwhelmed with the kindness, something I am not accustomed to to say the least, and I feel as if I have two left feet at times.
Bless you all.
Dear Maquis,
I read your entire missive. What you have been through with your ex and her spawn could only have been accomplished with God’s protection and guidance. I am just learning about Borderline Personality Disorder as my granddaughter has been so diagnosed after a second suicide attempt. First time she was diagnosed Bipolar. I’ll be doing a lot more research.
As to your physical infirmities and VA, I’m so very sorry you’re being so mistreated. VA has changed for the worse under the current regime. I see it everytime I go now. I’m currently trying to get my appointments moved into Community Care closer to home. Sometimes their rules are just too ludicrous to be believed.
My prayers for you are that the Lord open the path for you to receive the proper care and tests you so desperately need. The name, Dr. Ben Carson keeps hitting my brain today. I know he is a pediatric neurosurgeon but if there’s a way to contact him he may be able to give you some guidance and even, prayerfully, help in getting the appropriate treatments.
You’ll be in my daily prayers for total healing. God’s word says He will restore the years that the locusts have eaten. I claim that and healing for you always in the holy name of Jesus.
The scripture reference is Joel 2:25.
Maquis,
I can identify with your USAF experiences;
NCO that started as in shop maintenance F-111 instructor and ended career in Space and in IG 21st Space Wing prior to retirement.
They can strip that “Borderline” from the descriptive of BPD.
I pray you will receive talented medical care and that all your needs, (as only our Creator God fully knows) be met.
In Jesus name,
Monti
Prayers of healing and Divine guidance continue.
Maquis,
I’m still working my way through, but had to pause.
Would love for you to get a dog. Maybe not a puppy? However, shelters often give free food and care to their aging unadoptable pets. Getting you a nice dog will give you some security as they love their masters and you may just be giving an aging dog just enough love that it needs to make its twilight years enjoyable.
And give you a purpose to direct your attention to. What joy that would bring!!
Likely already housebroken too.
Please think on it. You could use with some unconditional love and a good dog will lift your Spirit.
Still praying for you. I’m at the part where your mother passed and you seem reunited with your sister. Praise God for such blessings!
I agree wholeheartedly. especially the old, cast away and unloved. I take in old cats. they beam. I beam. a fortress of love.
Linwik, I hope to get a cat too, someday, to torment the little dog I’d like to have when I’m not up and about.
I have a name for my cat already too, Nabi.
It’s Korean, it’s their general name for cats akin to Kitty in the west, but it is not a derivative of cat or kitten as is the case with Kitty.
Nabi is the Korean word for butterfly. I ask the lovely young woman that tells me this, why butterfly? She doesn’t know.
I consider it a moment and suggest that a cat flits about alighting here and there, as it will, like a butterfly, and that no butterfly will ever come when called.
They even call them like we call Kitties; Nabi, Nabi, Nabi-aaaaaaaaa!
I vote for one of each! LOL Nabi the tabby and Lotus the dog??? LOL
Dooooo it!!!! Hee hee!!!
My pup shall be Pip.
It’s a nickname for a character in Farscape, my favorite SciFi.
Nabi is pronounced naw-bee!
I look forward to Pip and Nabi finding their way home to you. They need you and so do we, Maquis.
Love you, brother from another mother.
I bet those cats live their best lives with you, linwik. It is a love worth the effort and a focus outside of ourselves. I am certain I would have lost my life long ago had it not been my precious daughter and our goofy foofy felines. They cause me to wake and stand each morning and give my very best efforts.
When I told my father that I was expecting a baby, when I was 32 years old, pregnant and unmarried… I worried his admonishment and disappointment. That old timer, military conflict hardened old man said to me tenderly “Joanie, God finally gave you someone to love.”
I thank him every day for finding his humanity in that one moment for me. He was able to meet her at 13 months old – just two months shy of his death. He loved her so and would have been a remarkable grandfather. I am glad he is home with Jesus and we will strive on to finish our races and make him and our Heavenly Father proud.
It is a deep stewardship to love another. Whether it is a child, a pet, a wild animal seeking shelter in your lawn, or a bird or squirrel benefiting from generous feeder. A kind Spirit… who refuses to dwell or rest their gaze on the ugly… shines hope in the smallest of places, but that hope can kindle and grow like a wildfire and give us some great laughs, fun memories, and happy tears along the way.
No matter how big or how small one’s life is – or how big or small one’s abilities to provide – there is always something positive we can do to push back against the darkness.
Luke 16:10 “Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much.”
luv you, woo. thank you for reminding me that even a small life (mine) can be a blessing. and thank God for giving me another day to strive to see with His eyes.
Oh my friend…. from my one small life to yours… dear one.
I believe fully in God’s Sovereignty and if He keeps waking us each day… He Has a Purpose that we are to fill.
Who knows? The small efforts we make can bloom into something magnificent in His Hands.
Love you too, darlin’
We are a good Tree
I have to get better to get a dog, but I hope to.
I fell in love with Miniature Fox Terriers a very long time ago, and my heart has been set on that ever since. I fear to take on an animal that has perhaps learned lessons and habits I cannot abide . . . I have a story about that. I promised myself I’d restrain myself but I can’t, so here goes;
I got a cute Dachshund a long time ago, owners were in the Military and moved away and their mother was selling the dog because her husband didn’t favor it, she made me promise to return it to her if I had problems with it.
I had problems with it. It peed everywhere in the house, nothing I could do. So I took it back. As the lovely woman was writing a check to recompense me the dog was behind her chair, staring me straight in the eye, and peeing a full load on her carpet. I said nothing.
So there was but one of my someone else’s troubled dog stories, though that was enough.
Howdy there, friend,
I understand. That’s why I was thinking an elder dog. Already house trained. Not too rambunctious to pull on one’s arm too strongly, but one that would no doubt love you and become a good, faithful guard dog.
And then there is meaning and purpose.
Meaning = giving one less fortunate than you and in dire need, love and mutual affection, which will feed your deep-seeded desire to save another.
Purpose = a person who has suffered greatly from abusers taking one in who will no longer be abused by an unkind, unjust, cement floor, and four wall “prison system” and that little furry being will not rob you blind or abandon you.
Additionally – I want to challenge you with something. I believe it will help you to feel better. I find various Scriptures in the Bible and they speak to my circumstances. I re-type them, print them, and post them… in various places in my home. They may be art pieces mounted on plaques or framed art, slips of paper taped just above my line of vision on my desk, or reminders on mirrors that when I look at myself – I see not only myself, but God, too.
Just to the upper left of my line of vision… right now… I have the following:
Suffering as a Christian (1 Peter 4:12-19) – I will leave this here for you to look up. I use an NIV and ESV version of the Bible.
I also have a quote from Dr. Phil “You don’t have to be offended, every time you can be.”
To my right, on the wall – a plaque “HOPE is an unwavering trust in the unseen. It confirms our faith and fulfills our dreams.” which reminds me of one of my life verses Hebrews 11:1.
You cannot turn around in our home and not have your eye met with purity, hope, edification, and courage builders. It is everywhere. On purpose!
I also encourage you to anoint your home. Take a wee bit of olive oil and place a small cross above every door and window – that for “all who go out and come in – all who see out and see in – I cast out every evil in Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name – that as for me and my house, we will serve The Lord.” Take under your authority vested in you by our Holy God through the Holy Spirit… full ownership and possession of your dwelling, your car, your wardrobe, your thoughts, and your words. Surround yourself and immerse yourself in His Holy Word. Time for you to do a cleaning and then keep it clean. Your Spirit will prompt you when this tradition is needed again. This has been such a valuable practice for us.
Soon, you will commit much to memory and His Word will indwell your heart like a talisman, a balm soothing to your soul, and nourishment for your weary Spirit. It will root in, germinate, and spring forth into a shoot and then into a mighty tree with the deepest roots of your being.
What you feed yourself, you will become.
I believe in my heart and in my prayers that you will overcome and you will be healed in such ways that you never thought possible before. He Is A Good and Righteous God and He Loves you with an Everlasting Love.
Decorate your home in holiness, surety, positivity and confidence – and then bring in a small heart for you to care for. A small aged heart who desperately needs you and I pray you will find your mission for the remaining of our race.
I love your posts and your writing is excellent. Words are powerful.
Please stop calling her your “Once Beloved” and call her what she is.. an EX. EX meaning no more. An EX meaning she has no power over you and loving her was not a loss – and surviving her was a great triumph.
Another saying we like around here – “It says more about her… than it does about you.”
You triumphed and you will continue to do so. I speak it over you and claim it on your behalf… now go do it… in Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
You may now realize why her husband wasn’t so keen on that pooch. But not all pooches are the same. A nice discussion with a shelter and they can point you to a hypoallergenic breed, easy to maintain, elder boy or girl – whose likely only sin is afternoon naps and moving a bit slowly.
A Russian Blue cat has hypoallergenic fur and a most gentle, sophisticated disposition.
Maquis,
Victor Hugo would be envious of your magnificent written word. I see your great efforts each day and night….and especially during overnight hours. You work nearly 24/7.
Even if you don’t think anyone is around, I am probably quietly there too. Just one day more honorable soldier.
((This is my blushing emoji))
He does write really well, doesn’t he? Oh that we all have the gift of sitting at each other’s feet and sharing our deep experiences. So much knowledge among us all – what a gift!
Please pray that I get a job soon.
I’m currently unemployed and have been for two months. Thankfully, I have enough money saved to last for months due to my frugal lifestyle, but I would still like to get a job again soon.
I have applied to about 600 jobs and have had four interviews so far.
I was fired from my last job, not due to poor performance, but because my boss’s boss didn’t like me.
This person was an authoritarian micromanager who didn’t tolerate dissent. I eventually found myself in a position where I had to respectfully disagree with this person on something and was fired three days later in retaliation.
I’m also praying for everyone here.
Thanks and God bless!
Almighty Father,allow Spike Protein to find gainful employment with a decent company.May he remain strong as he searches for work.We ask this through Your Son,Jesus Christ,with whom all things are possible.Amen.
I have been fired. there is PTSD, but only for a while, until a new and better window opens–and, it will, because you didnt belong at your last job. we pray that sunlight comes streaming that window very soon for you, dear friend. in God’s holy name.
Hello Spike, Hope to encourage you with a few words, and a prayer.
Back in 2008, with an economy spiraling downward, my son was suddenly laid off from his job.
This blindside devastated him. One good thing – he was a single guy with no debt.
He remained unemployed for a year, while continually applying for jobs – to no avail.
He later told me that one night he fell on his knees, and gave it to God.
He asked the Lord to please give him any job – even a garbage collector would be fine.
A month later, he found a wonderful job through an old college friend.
This job was perfectly tailored for him, and far better than the one he left.
It actually defined his career path in a way previously unknown to him.
And fifteen years later, he’s still there at this thriving business. Thanks be to God. 🙏🏻
My point is telling this story: we all know that our lives can change in a moment!
None of us can guarantee anything … But God is in control of every detail of our lives – for our good and His glory.
He just wants us to learn to trust Him in all things.
It’s hard for me at times, but, I’m trying!
This morning, I read a devotional about “waiting in faith” and thought of you, too.
Hope you’ll take a look, and be strengthened by its message, as I was.
https://www.intouch.org/read/daily-devotions
“I will be on the watch for the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation.
My God will hear me.”
Micah 7:7
>>
Lord God, thank You for being our Refuge, and our ever-present help in trouble.
You are our Gracious Provider; everything we need and everything we have is from your hand.
Great is Your faithfulness to us, O God. We thank You and we are grateful.
Lord, You are All-knowing – even throughout Eternity. And You know what Spike needs.
You are the Giver of all good gifts – including our jobs, our skills and abilities.
Lord, please guide Spike to the right job;
Give him increase – in favor with his employer, in skills, and in wages.
Please strengthen Spike in all uncertainty as he waits on You.
Remove any anxiety or worry from his heart and mind.
Lord, remind Spike that You will take care of him all of his days – because You made him, and You love him.
Cheer his heart with Your peace, dear Lord; draw him close to Thee.
God, may You be glorified through the testing of Spike’s faith.
May his trust in You grow as You give him grace for every moment – and faith to believe.
In the name of Jesus, and for His sake, we ask, Father.
Blessings…
Agreeing with you in prayer that the Lord would lead you to the job that is just right for you. Hang in there, friend. God bless you.
Hi Spike,
I am so sorry to hear about your job and I know that it is scary to be unemployed. I am so glad to hear that you had some financial cushion and I pray that your good sense is a testimony to others the importance to create that “emergency fund”. It seems emergencies will find us all at some point in our lives.
I believe that The Lord is moving a mountain for you. We sometimes have ourselves in places, situations, and circumstances that we believe we are being noble to remain in. Whether we are doing it in good faith, or for the security of ourselves and our family, or maybe we stay out of fear of trading one devil you know for the devil unknown. Whatever the case may be, this termination of employment may very well be God’s blessing in disguise.
For every moment we are investing in an abusive situation, it is a moment that we are stealing from positive productivity elsewhere. Dissent doesn’t have to be behavioral or a failure to subordinate to authority. Dissent can merely be an alternate viewpoint to invoke change in a procedure or system to make that procedure or system more efficient, effective, safer, or robust!
A good employer is going to value input from all of their employees when the mutual goal is to succeed and provide exceptional quality and services. Please do not feel defeated in this or dissuaded. One day your input will be encouraged and favored when you have found the right job for you. It is out there.
God doesn’t make mistakes and He made you perfectly when He formed you in your mother’s womb (Psalm 139). God decided that He needed an extra special Spike Protein and thus He blessed our world with you.
So, God moved your mountain. He moved it because maybe you were reticent in doing so. Keep going, keep applying at places, and if I may be so bold to suggest – why don’t you work with a temporary agency to do some kind of work, any kind of work, just so you can be bringing in a bit of a paycheck until you find your permanent gig? You may find it opening yourself to employment possibilities that you’ve never thought of and which may ultimately inspire you in a new direction.
Plus, it’s always good to stay productive and keep your mind and body busy during these times of uncertainty.
The right thing will come through for you. Maybe start yourself a little journal and write down your daily prayers and blessings and six months from now return to your writings to see and offer God praise for His answers to your prayers.
Praying for you, in Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
More prayers please for my old friend from high school…they just amputated his other leg above the knee–he had a bone infection in the ankle and he decided rather than below the knee, to ‘get ahead’ of the infection and go higher. I think he knew this was coming.
He seems to have the right spirit…my heart aches…am at a loss for words…
Diabetes is one nasty ailment…a doctor once told me the elevated blood sugar is like shards of glass coursing through one’s circulatory system…very damaging and produces the affinity for the circulation/wound and infection issues.
Prayers going up for your friend. He sounds like a very brave and determined man. I pray this amputation stops all infection now. I pray his diabetes will be under control. You are a good and caring friend. May God bless you too.
Mercy! Praying for this poor man that there be no more to this ordeal & for the Lord’s favor to be upon him.
Praying for your friend Aggiegirl.May the Almighty’s divine mercy be with this man and may his spirit remain strong.Amen.
I am so sorry to hear this, Aggiegirl. I can’t imagine what all he is going through to endure surgery after surgery… each time waking to another piece of myself missing.
He is so brave and strong.
I pray The Lord would show mercy and stop the infection. Lord please have mercy!
In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
If we could all lift a prayer for our beloved Garrison from the Open Thread.
Heavenly Father, Abba,
We thank you so much for the boldness and joy that Garrison brings to the Open Thread. I pray for his comfort and rest that he may slumber peacefully. I pray for his heart that his blood pressure increases and is not so low. I pray too for his heart with the missing wedding band from his beloved wife, cut off by the firefighters due to the swelling and injury. Yes, it was to save his member, but it is a deep hurt to feel it gone… something so familiar for 56 years.
Comfort him, Father, from the pain of the injury and any sadness.
Surround him with purity and joy and help him to heal swiftly and fully. Help him to regain his balance, so that he can safely walk, and calibrate his mind and body to work in perfect unity. Surround him, Father, with Your angels.
In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
Dear Heavenly Father,
Please comfort Garrison in his struggles. Please touch his heart and provide healing and strength through Your almighty presence and love, as only You can. Reassure him of Your promise, that everything that occurs is for the good of Your children, who You loved before the earth was created. Please ease his pain, and please restore his health. If it is also Your gracious will, we ask that the missing ring be located and returned to him as well.
We ask this in Jesus’ holy name, Amen.
Hi flora,
Amen to your prayer. His wedding ring isn’t missing – he had to have the fire department come and cut it off his damaged hand. I can’t imagine how that must feel for him to see it missing after his long and generous marriage. He spent the last 16 years (I believe that’s the right number) caring for his ailing wife of dementia during the time he says they fell in love all over again. What a beautiful and inspiring love story for those of us who have had no such good fortune.
It hurts to get and be hurt – but that ring having to come off probably hurt of another kind.
May we all say prayers lifting Niki, Rah’s daughter. Rah is our beloved and faithful weatherman in the Open Thread. He is a walking, talking Swiss Army knife of information and bravery. Rah has seen things in his life. I’m not sure how many of those have prepared him for this.
His daughter is very ill and she needs our prayers.
Abba, Father,
What a desperate feeling when our control is gone. When we are forced to stand by and watch from up close, or even from afar, the ailing and pain and torture of our children. How small and helpless we feel when our loved ones are so deeply pained.
Niki is hurting, Father. She’s so very small, but if she’s anything like her dear old Dad, we know that You made her to be a fighter. Father, please infuse her with your healing and push out every bad cell in her body. Help her to sleep deeply and peacefully and awaken with an incredible hunger. Help her internal organs to strengthen and for her to be free from cancer. Remove the feeding tubes and allow her nourishment normally again. Protect her brain from any damage from the treatments from this awful cancer and return her to the loving arms of her precious daughter, Allison, and their sweet family. Help Niki to stand tall and shine boldly, full of life, vigor, and fight.
May Your Mercy shine on her and illuminate her. May Your blood of The Lamb cleanse her own. Help her to overcome.
Father, I ask this in Your Son’s precious and saving Name, AMEN.
Wow… scrolling through here… there are some mighty prayerful things here. Re-reading them, I’m praying for you all… all over again. Most of these were just a few short weeks ago – but to me – it feels like an eternity. We are sure going through it, aren’t we? Would love to see some updates. I’m keeping you all in my heart and mind this evening and lifting my prayers and well wishes for you up to our Loving and Merciful Father-God in Heaven. In Jesus’s Holy and Saving Name, AMEN
Prayers for strength as I face another year without my only child Erin whom I lost to Cystic Fibrosis 18 years ago October 5th…still seems like yesterday. I miss her every day.
I cannot imagine the ache and loss you are feeling, dear friend. I pray for your comfort until you and Erin are together again. and God shall wipe away all tears–and there will be joy in the morning.
Oh Robin, my heart hurts for you just reading this. I pray the Lord’s comfort would be upon you every moment of every day, & that there would be a reunion between you one coming glad day. The Lord bless & keep you.
I am so sorry to hear of your broken heart, Robin O’Meara. Yours is a loss that I am certain I could never recover from if the role were mine. It will be our roll some day – I know either my daughter, or I, will lose the other. Unbearable.
What I do know is that your daughter is fully healed and fully whole. She is running, laughing, playing in a body fully perfected for her by our Lord and her Savior. There is no crying or pain in Heaven.
To lose in love is such a great risk, but I am certain it is a risk that you will never regret. I pray Erin’s memory be Eternal and that memories wash over you that bring you such joy, that you cannot help but smile. I pray you warmth, love, and the peace that surpasses all understanding.
Our time on this earth feels long – but it is fleeting. Soon, friend, soon – after you have finished your race – you will see her again. Fully perfected and with much anticipation of your reunion with her.
Love to you, dear mother’s heart.