Good Quality of Life

Life itself isn’t that short anymore.  More and more folks are living into their 80’s and 90’s.  The question is, though, how much quality is there to that life?  I hope for anyone who lives to a “ripe old age” that they have been blessed with good memory, excellent joints and bones, working organs, very little pain, no cancer, and a bright, articulate mind to go with a loving heart…

Struggling with the day to day work it takes to keep ourselves “together,” Richard and I vacilate between whether or not living a long life is a good thing or bad.  I’m glad that I have made it this far – – we have some great memories of our lives together for 24 years.   But, I see us stumble (especially Richard) because Richard has no strength left in his knees anymore.  The pain is intense, but he manages to clench his teeth through it and keep on trying.  There have been several times when Richard has been so ill that he sleeps for 30 plus hours – I think it’s his body keeping him alive.  Me – well . . . I have drama illnesses and weird events.  Go figure.

I’m grateful for one thing right now – – I have been given a second chance to understand a little about God, and put things in a diffferent perspective.  Perhaps that’s the reason we’re still here.


Recuperating and surviving

As most of our friends and family know, we (Richard and I)  have been poisoned from which we believe we got from scrubbing down and refurbishing uranium filled vehicles that have come back from the various wars since the Gulf War.  The different military branches literally buy and sell these rolling wrecks between themselves, and attempt to put what they can – back into service.  And NO – this equipment is not brought to mainland USA…normally they move the equipment from the war theatre to an obscure atoll or island under the jurisdiction of the USA and  various branches of the military.  “Not in My Backyard.”

Living and working on an obscure atoll in the Pacific we cleaned and refurbished military equipment to put  “the rolling stock”  back into commission for another day for use by more innocent “fodder”.  As days, weeks, months, and three years have gone by, we get more and more ill, and we continue to wish so badly for a “cure.” 

But, it’s time to face the facts – – the military and our mainstream media have no intention of  helping the civilian and military people come to an answer to help us through this horrid killing machine. This is making money.  Who for?  I don’t want to  venture down that street, and will stay away from thinking about it.

Bringing back U-238 and who knows whatever other poisons we can imagine

Returning soldiers and civilian contractors are bringing home much more sorrow than they probably know

Both of us are now on Social Security Disability…we think it’s the government’s way to keep our mouths shut about what is going on.  I believe it works quite well for the U.S. Government – “give them a little money and that will keep them quiet.”  It’s not setting well in my heart, particularly as I watch these fathers and mothers coming back from Iraq and Afghanistan – poisoned by the depleted uranium that our countries are using to fight with.  We are leaving the indiginous people left to their own fate of dying from depleted uranium and while the politicians are patting our patriots on their backs and thanking them for a job well done, they are praying that all the poisons they have left the troops with won’t come back to haunt them.

…oh, but it will.  Remember Agent Orange?  You just can’t keep stuff like this a secret.  The sad part is that this is not just killing and hurting our troops – – it’s killing and maiming the children of our troops.

I just got out of the the hospital from a ruptured appendiex which may or may not be related to the U-238 uranium poisoning. (While cleaning up the rupture, the doctor discovered some very peculiar cells and cysts which he cut out and has sent to a lab for analysis).   The appendix rupturing was a life threathening occurrance.  I was extremely ill to begin with because of the uranium poisoning to start with, so I guess I should be grateful to have lived through this medical emergency.  I’m frightened.  Why?  ’cause I really don’t want to die.  Our immune system are run down and weakened tremendously – all it will take to put me down is a nice little flu or pneumonia.  The same goes with anyone else who has this poisoning in their system.

Morning weigh-in: 98 pounds.  I used to say that if I got below 100 pounds in weight, that’s when I would get frightened.  Now I am forced to reset my dial to 95 pounds.

Many mornings I awake crying    –     feeling sorry for mysellf and wishing that life had dealt me a different card.  But that won’t do any good.  The cards were drawn, and here I am  . . . working through the pain and depression of heavy metal poisoning.

There was a short blurb on written and produced by John Zarrella entitled “Keeping Marines Ready to Fight.”  When it aired on t.v. yesterday I immediately tried to locate the author and/or anybody at CNN to set the record right.  There’s only one way to reach people these days – electronically.  I chose email.  Unlikely I will ever get a response.  How sad. 

I don’t wish for an Ozzie and Harriett world, but I do wish for an honest and communicative world.

More later on my heavy metal rant.  Sleep is  calling.  I had another sleepless night, and hoping to make up for it!

Patient in 214, West Wing


I’m particularly reluctant to go the doctor – especially when it involves sharp objects…like knives

Hi – haven’t been my best lately!  Over a week ago I ended up with a ruptured appendix.  Hospital #1 and Doctor #1 took x-rays, hooked me up to saline, asked about how I felt (you know…the ole’ on a scale of 1 to 10…10 being the highest rate of pain you feel where you would like to kill a small town of innocent rabbits if you could . . . or 2 – you’re ready for an evening of dancing).  I was a “fast boot” – over and out, otherwise known as Pump and Dump…sending you back to the bacterial-ridden streets that you and I came from.

A few days later, in extreme agony – another medical facility, 90 miles from home.  The doctor (Doctor #2) inquired if I would please prepare for surgery (after he took a look at the CAT scan results and was literate enough to read the blood and urine results….don’t mind me – I have a gallows sense of humor).   He warned me that I needed surgery.  I figured a day later or something, but – no – how about 20 minutes later.  Richard gave blood for a transfusion and hung by my side hysterically for 5 – 6 days.

I’m home.  Hurray #2 – and glad of it. 

* * * * *

The “exploding appendix” may yield some important information regarding our uranium and tungsten poisoning.  While in the middle of scooping up my messy gut, the doctor found some very unusual string of cysts and managed to get his hands on a bunch of them for samples and medical evaluation and pathological. tests.  While checking in, I had to explain to the doctors about the 35 or so pills I take a day and particularily about the tincture of opium  that I take. He was interested and curious – – you never know.  Curious doctors are a rare breed and needed when you don’t have just a “run of the mill” illness. 

So, Doctor #2 may be of more help than he planned.  And Perhaps it’s a good thing that Doctor #1 didn’t touch me.