argh

I was reminded by someone this morning that I hadn’t posted any new information about my health or the status of WickedWomanMag.com in some time. I do so now only because I am in no condition to answer more e-mail about what’s happening. I’m exhausted, sick and stressed enough to have zero patience. For that, I do sincerely apologize, but there’s a limit to my ability to deal with anyone else’s problems other than my own. I’ve reached that limit. So, this is what’s going on.

For those who don’t know the backstory, I learned that a tumor I’ve known I had for years was acting up in a very significant way and making me very ill. The result was that I had to keep the online magazine I’d just opened a week earlier closed. It remains closed to this day, but I am working to re-open it this month. My doctor is managing my condition with medication, but I’ve had a nagging feeling that there was more going on. I trusted my instincts and saw another doctor who specializes in this type of tumor. She’s ordered more tests–one of which I’d requested from my other doctor for over a year only to be told that it wouldn’t yield any pertinent information. The new doctor disagreed, but did say that the person reading the results had to understand what they were reading and that the test had to be conducted under certain circumstances to yield productive information. I am awaiting the proper circumstances as I write.

The new doctor also said that the first doctor may not have realized that there was another possible diagnosis. Although none of my options are good, should the newly theorized diagnosis turn out to be accurate, I will have to make some very difficult life choices.

I’m still settling my mother’s estate. I’m currently living in the family home and plan to give it back to the bank for a variety of reasons. Those reasons fall into two categories: 1) KeyBank gave my mother a home equity loan knowing that she had dementia and didn’t understand what she was doing, and; 2) this house is not conducive to the health of anyone with disabilities. When I first learned of my illness, I said that I’d be out by mid-November. I didn’t anticipate that I’d become even more ill or that the worsening of the illness would throw my body into a fibromyalgia flare that is one of the worst I’ve experienced in the 20+ years since I was diagnosed. I have no idea whether KeyBank will care that I’m sick; unable to pack up a house that’s been occupied for over 40 years more or less by myself on a good day when I’m not in a flare, and; have no way of earning money to move without seriously endangering my health.

The same is true of other people and institutions that are putting pressure on me. Basically, they don’t care that my health is awful and in dire jeopardy of becoming worse because I’m ignoring its limitations. They want what they want when they want it. I want to leave this house for reasons of my own, but that doesn’t mean that I can. Consequently, I am working my butt off to get WWM re-opened this month when I shouldn’t even be thinking about it. I should be doing nothing but watching television and taking care of as many of the day-to-day chores one has to do in order to survive as I can without worrying about the rest. Instead, I’m living 24- to 36-hour days and spending every dime I have and then some to re-open WWM and gear up for a crowdfunding campaign to follow. I am beyond exhausted. I am beyond bodily agony. Two different doctors in two different fields are deeply concerned about the stress I am under, have thrown up their hands and sent me to a psychiatrist to prescribe stronger anti-anxiety medication.

I want to cry, but I can’t because that takes time and energy I can’t spare. However, my desire to fall into a crumbling, sobbing heap doesn’t mean anyone insisting that I do X right this second cares that their demands could land me in bed, unable to care for myself, my furbabies or anything remotely resembling a house for YEARS as long as they get what they want when they want it. I don’t even know if the two letters that have been written on my behalf by the two doctors mentioned above explaining my illness, and a third I can probably get in the next month, will hold off KeyBank. For sure, they won’t hold off the individuals who are bugging the living daylights out of me, accusing me of ignoring them when I don’t have the time or energy to check e-mail on more than one account every few days. It is time that people wake up and realize that everything does not revolve around them all the time and everything anyone does is not about them all the time. Since I have been guilty of being self-centered at various times, I do understand the mindset. That doesn’t mean I believe it to be correct or humane.

Am I angry? Um, no. I am furious. I am furious that supposed fellow humans can be so callous as to not allow me to be sick as opposed to pressuring me into losing my life to suit their needs. I have my own reasons for wanting WWM open and funded, and; trying to get out of this house and into one of my own as soon as I can. Left to my own devices, and without incurring as much of a risk to my health and life as I’m doing right now, I could probably make it by March at the latest. As it is, the only thing that’s happening is that the fibromyalgia flare is getting worse. The worse it gets, the more danger I’m in and the greater the possibility that I will become completely unable to care for myself for a very long time. It has happened to me before, but my mother was alive then. Now, there is no one to take care of me, let alone take care of my girls.

Finally, I will say this plainly as I can: Unless you are willing to in some way help me, encourage me, sympathize or offer constructive suggestions, please leave me alone! I will announce the re-opening of WickedWomanMag.com when it happens and I will definitely announce the upcoming crowdfunding campaign that will follow shortly on the heels of the opening.

Those of you who have been caring, kind and patient, I thank you and appreciate you more than you will ever know. I am trying to concentrate on you and others like you, not letting those less caring and patient get me even more stressed than I am already. Other than tune everyone out, which is pretty much what I’ve been doing, that’s the only possible course of action.

thewickedwoman:

I could not have written a better post myself. Thank you!

Originally posted on America The NOT SO Beautiful:

August 24, 2014

By Mike Caccioppoli

Someone needs to tell me why cops have tasers. Are they for when a kid kicks them in the shin? Or maybe when a woman starts to argue about being pulled over for doing 66 in a 65. Is that what tasers are for? Heck I’m so old I can remember when there was no such thing as a taser. Only on Star Trek. You know, when their ray guns were set to “stun” instead of “kill.” Seems like the guys on the Starship Enterprise knew when to set their guns to either level. If only cops were as smart.

Or as courageous. I think I remember when cops had courage. Been a while though. Now when an “assailant” is 25 feet away with a knife, and that assailant is on crack or heroin or meth and can barely speak or move, it’s…

View original 1,234 more words

It’s been far too long since I’ve posted to TWW. I sincerely apologize, but there is a very good reason. In short: I’ve been quite sick. I am not referring to a bout of fibromyalgia, although I am currently experiencing that now due to the additional stress on my body. I am referring to the fact that I have a type of tumor that is usually benign and usually doesn’t cause problems but, in my case, is still probably benign, but is most definitely causing problems.

three metalic question marks

I attempted to deal with my symptoms by myself for about six weeks. Finally, it became clear to me that I needed help and phoned one of my doctors. By that time, I was weak and in pain. We made a decision to try to manage the most obvious symptoms via drug therapy. Unfortunately, the original prescription was for a drug that was nearly $200 and I simply could not afford it. The pharmacy didn’t tell me there was an alternative and, at that time, my ability to reason was faulty, to say the least, so I didn’t ask my doctor. It took about a week, but eventually I phoned my doctor again and told her that the medication she’d prescribed was very expensive and asked if there was an alternative. Fortunately, there was. I filled the second prescription a few days later.

It took days and days for the medication to begin to work. While waiting, I became more and more ill, but I also vaguely began to put some of my symptoms into a coherent picture. My doctor’s diagnosis was only half correct. She wasn’t dealing with the entire picture. As sick as I felt, I knew I had to find a way to make a rational argument for what I believed to be happening to my body.

I went to a follow-up appointment feeling dizzy, exhausted, confused and very out-of-sorts. After blood tests were performed, I was diagnosed as being in the mid-range of moderate anemia. I was anemic enough to experience symptoms, including a constant headache, pounding heart, muscle aches and confusion. As borderline incoherent as I was, I did make her understand that there was something else afoot. A simple test proved that there was a really good possibility I was right. However, being right meant that I needed surgery. My whole world turned upside down. The anemia symptoms, in and of themselves, forced me to keep WickedWomanMag.com down after being temporarily closed for other reasons. I couldn’t write, edit or monitor the site. I’m still not really up to it. That is an enormous problem that affects everything else in my life, including my need for surgery.

I have lost a lot of the people to whom I was closest in Cleveland over the last six years. These were true family members I could count on to support me and help me in a time of need. Even though my mother had dementia at her death, she would have been supportive of my illness as she finally acknowledged her own. Having a chronic condition is isolating. Therefore, I have a very limited number of friends to count on. My closest is totally allergic to dogs and there is no one here I trust with my canine family. I used to be very involved in the dog fancy in the Cleveland metro area, but haven’t been in over a decade. There are still one or two people with whom I’ll speak, but a lot of my friends have passed on as well. My best doggie friend lives in the Twin Cities area and suggested that I move to Minnesota over a year ago. She saw that I was struggling and could use the support. There is a very strong breed community in the area and I know several of the members. Indeed, my last three Airedales were born in the area. At the time, all I could think about was the cold and dismissed the idea. However, because I routinely need top-notch medical care, am faced with needing surgery in the next several months and have no support system here, suddenly the cold, white North isn’t looking too bad. The University of Minnesota Medical Center is there as is Mayo Clinic, although a bit farther south of the Twin Cities metro area. They would fulfill my medical needs.

The short of it is that I am going to try harder to get well enough to finish writing the one article that is keeping WWM closed for so long. It’s one thing to write a blog post. It is quite another to take research, synthesize it, organize it and put it into a form that is both understandable and entertaining. It takes organizational skills I don’t have right now. There is some evidence the anemia is resolving, but I have gone into a fibromyalgia flare due to the stress my body has suffered since, really, April or May. In this particular flare, I am experiencing intractable insomnia. It takes everything I have to get out of bed some days. The only reason I do is because my girls need to be fed and pottied. Otherwise, I’d lay there and not care whether I ate or drank anything at all. As illustration, it took me 11 days to begin to go grocery shopping for the month. In the interim, I ran out of every staple in the house. If I did find something to eat, it was invariably fried, something I almost never do, but did so in these cases because it was quicker than broiling or baking. When I couldn’t even manage that, I ordered in. A lot. It wasn’t something I could avoid because I was just too tired and weak to stand in front of a stove.

Because I have no real support for being truly sick here; no support for my girls, and; because I do not believe I am getting the best care from either of the world-reknown hospitals in town (one of which is rated #4 in the entire country), I need to move. The caveat is that I can’t move if I can’t raise money for WWM so that I can hire an associate editor, pay myself, the freelancers and cover all of the other things for which capital is needed for a start-up. If I can get WWM open, then I can probably raise funding. My plan has been to run a crowd funding campaign. Believe me, doing so isn’t nearly as easy as many make it sound. I’d still need a business plan, but I have had that plan circulating in my head for over a year. My illness cost me my business consultant, but he taught me enough to continue on by myself. Still, I’d have to try to stay on top of the campaign and interact with donors. My energy is quite limited because I cannot get enough rest. If my rheumatologist can find the right medication to help me get restful sleep, I can accomplish my goals.

Even if I don’t move to Minnesota right away, I still have to move out of the family home because my mother made disastrous decisions while she was ill. (Yes, I knew she was sick and tried to get her help. Her brothers interfered and she got none even as she became progressively worse.) I have to dispose of or pack up over 40 years worth of stuff all while I feel like hell. There are probably some friends of my mother’s who have sons or grandsons who can help with the heavy lifting, but they need to know what to lift. Over two years after she died, I still haven’t gone through all of my mother’s belongings. Her clothing is more or less where she left it the day she was taken out of the house via ambulance never to return. I wasn’t strong enough to do it until just shy of the second anniversary of her death. By that time, I was hip deep in WWM and didn’t have time. Now, I don’t have energy, although I am trying to do bits and pieces here and there. No one else can do this but me because I’m the only person who knows what’s important and what isn’t.

To summarize: I have been sick; I am sick; I have to find the strength to re-open WWM; I have to raise funds for WWM so that I can support myself and my canine family; I have to decide whether I can afford to move or will be forced to stay in town with almost no support for being truly ill, especially in the weeks and months after surgery.

There is so much going on in the world right now that I deeply yearn to write about. There are days that are better than others and I can manage a blog post. Now that I’ve updated readers on what’s going on, I will try to write blog posts here. At least that way, people won’t think that I’ve fallen off the edge of the Earth.

Something really horrible happened to me a bit ago. I’d rather not go into exactly what. However, it has been an ongoing crisis that has left me extremely emotionally vulnerable and not my usual self. I can say that I fought with every ounce of strength in me because my life and that of my girls (four-legged, if you remember) was very much on the line–and I do not mean that figuratively. However, that fight has sapped me of any reserves for the moment. I will recover. I will never view the world the same way again. For me, that’s saying something.

As a general rule, I don’t post my personal issues here. This blog was never meant for that. I am making a slight exception now because what happened, and is happening, has so adversely impacted my ability to function on WickedWomanMag.com. I had to take the site down for what I thought would be look and feel fixes that would take a day or two at most. Then, just as I finished making repairs, the theme was updated and the update broke all but two pages of the site. Needless to say, I was pretty angry. Knowing that anger would do me no good whatsoever, I contacted the developer who looked and said that he thought I’d need to rebuild the site altogether. As we were trying to find a middle ground, my life fell apart. I haven’t been up to working since, although I am doing my best to try to get the site back up by Friday.

In the last few weeks I have been degraded, humiliated, debased, abused, harassed, terrified and thrown into a chaotic hell. I’ve been close to petrified that I’d lose the only family I really have–my canine children–and learned to hate something fierce. It’s not that I hadn’t experienced the feeling of hatred before because I have. The Cleveland branch of one side of my family is better named either Borgia or Medici than its actual name. There are a couple of good-hearted people in it, but I can count them on one hand. The rest . . . well, as I said, Borgia or Medici would be better surnames. Be that as it may, what happened to me has brought about feelings that surpass anything I’ve felt for the worst of the twisted relatives. If my old therapist still took my insurance, I would be sitting on her couch within the week.

As bad as everything is, I have no choice but to muddle through. The remainder of my life depends on what I do now. I don’t have the time to curl up into a fetal position until I can breathe again. I have to continue to do the work I started. But for an angel who rescued me, I wouldn’t even be able to do that. I only wish that someone could have shielded me from all of the other crap that happened, but they couldn’t. Worst of all, I couldn’t–and seemingly can’t–do anything myself. I don’t do powerlessness well at all. It’s not something I can accept. To do so is the most frightening thing there is other than losing my girls.

I am going to sleep and work some more later today. I just wanted to let you know that there was something going on and that’s why WWM has been closed for so long. I am going to fight through this depression and anxiety because I have to. There are people who are depending on me to do so. Inside, in my heart of hearts, I know that I will never be the same. With luck and time, maybe I will be stronger, but I will never be who I was.

I am ashamed to say it, but I totally forgot to post anything here telling you that WWM is open. There are only four articles up at present, but that should change by this time next week and continue throughout the month. I’ve spent at least 50% more time dealing with graphics and web design than I have writing. I look forward to the day when that isn’t the case. Things should be better now that there is a skeleton of a theme up. That is to say, this is a very powerful theme, but I haven’t learned how to harness that power yet. Therefore, I’ve still got a learning curve ahead of me. Nevertheless, I hope to stop playing with graphics as much and start writing again–you know, the way I’m supposed to. :)

Thank you all for your support. I am not leaving TWW at all. I just haven’t quite determined exactly what I’m going to put over here. There will, however, be content of some sort.

wwm site logo with border and bevel-250Readers of Words From A Wicked Woman are among the very first to know. WickedWomanMag.com has a new launch date: 12:00:01 p.m. May 7, 2014. Short of near-death, a complete breakdown of the BlueHost.com network or an act of God, we will be live. Finally!! We begin with a 4-part series on black, gay, human rights activist Bayard Rustin, recipient of the Presidential Medial of Freedom last year thanks in large part to a unique 10-year working partnership. Minorities, women and LGBT owe this man great respect. Keep your eyes open for more details about other articles.

go daddy burned toastThe WickedWomanMag.com (WWM) site was only reachable sporadically from approximately April 2 through April 23. It launched on April 1. GoDaddy.com, the WWM host, attributed the problem to either the owner, me, or my ISP, AT&T. After days of intermittent service and continued refusal to take responsibility for my inability to reach the site, I proved conclusively that the problem resided within the GoDaddy.com network. Doing so prompted a supervisor to attempt to locate the problem. However, a few days later, he said that there was nothing else they could do. In short, even though it was clear to anyone who understood the inner workings of the Internet–or even intranets–that the problem was in their internal network, GoDaddy.com explicitly refused to do anything else. I later discovered that WWM was unreachable not only for me, but for anyone in any part of the U.S. or Canada. An associate in Europe tried to reach the site from Paris and was unable to do so either.

The result of GoDaddy.com’s refusal to accept responsibility and fix the problem was that there really wasn’t a WWM launch. Not only that, because I spent so much time on the phone with GoDaddy personnel or simply unable to reach the backend of the site where I needed to work, I am left to try to make that work up now. That means WWM can’t launch again until May and fundraising will have to wait another month after that. In short, I have lost money. Big money. Not only that, but my reputation has suffered.

In contrast, the new host, Blue Host, has been truly wonderful in the short time I’ve dealt with them. They have taken a great deal of time to help me move everything over from GoDaddy.com to their servers. And, as further proof that GoDaddy.com was the problem, a traceroute I ran today made it all the way from my laptop to the Blue Host server where WWM is located. There are still issues to iron out due to the move, but I am very hopeful.

Look for an announcement about the opening in the next few weeks.