Posts Tagged ‘gofundme

26
Aug
20

Take a Breath

Take a deep breath. Hold it in. Let it out nice and slow. Now do it again. Once more.

Feels good, doesn’t it? I hope so, but I wouldn’t know for sure. I can’t do that anymore and haven’t been able to for nearly three years.

I have severe asthma, bordering on COPD, and my condition has been degrading steadily over the last few years. It’s gotten to the point where nearly any exertion, even something as simple as brewing a pot of coffee or taking a shower, leaves me heaving and struggling for breath. I frequently have to use a nebulizer just to attend a doctor’s appointment and generally am so exhausted and weakened afterwards that I end up having to sleep the rest of the day.

I miss being able to step outside just after the rain and breathe deep, feeling that beautiful, damp air slide through my body. I miss being able to stop by the game shop and have a chat about what’s coming up. I miss going to my job, helping people, training others, and socializing with the great friends I had there.

There’s something that may help; it’s called a bronchoplasty. Essentially, they want to shove tiny laser beams down my throat and burn away the parts of my lungs that aren’t working right. Very sci-fi. They tell me this may help, that while it may not remove all my symptoms, it will at least hopefully lessen them to the point where I can take a deep breath once in a while, or go back to work.

Problem is, it’s not cheap and the insurance I have won’t cover it. Being away from my job for almost three years has murdered what credit rating I used to have, cancelled the semi-decent insurance that my work provided, and left me clinging to a state health plan that barely covers my meds, let alone something like major surgery.

I do what I can, trying to bring in some income. I don’t just sleep all day. I write, I blog, I try to stream when I’m feeling well enough and can manage to talk for more than five minutes without a severe coughing fit or fainting spell hitting me. None of them pay the bills, let alone build up enough of a nest egg to get what I need, but at least they pass the time and sometimes can buy a sandwich.

That’s where this comes in. I’m throwing myself on the mercy of the masses. For those of you who have the fortunate position of being able to take a deep breath without pain or fear, just think about what it would feel like to have that taken away… and consider if that is worth your mercy. If not, I understand. Times are crazy and tough for everyone these days. But it’d sure help.

The amount listed for the campaign covers the approximately $15,000 worth of surgery and includes a $5,000 buffer for aftercare and living expenses while I recover. I know it’s a lot. I wish it was less, and that I didn’t have to ask. But it is what it is.

That’s all there is to say, I guess.

Take a deep breath. Be thankful you can. Consider helping someone else do the same. Thank you for your time.

The campaign can be found here.

03
Jan
20

Health Update

img_0123Long and short of it, I’m still borked.

But there’s been some improvement, if only on the mental side of things. The shrinks decided “Prozac ain’t cuttin’ it. Let’s try something else.” They then introduced me to the wonders of Latuda.

On day 1, I pretty much was instantly kicked out of the depressive pit. On day 2, I saw the warning signs of a manic phase. On day 3, mania had descended. Day 4, it was fading. Day 5 and since, I’ve felt… normal. It’s weird. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like.

I believe the message here is: Take your damn meds. If what you’re on isn’t working, call the doctor and tell them so. Don’t keep quiet. Moral #2 is “don’t expect instant change.” Give it a week or two to see what changes occur. Moral #3 is “don’t get discouraged.” Easier said than done, especially for those of us laboring under depressive or bipolar disorders, but it’s key. Psychiatry is more art than science thanks to the wonders of individual chemistry, and a lot of it is throwing darts to see what sticks.

So far as the physical front, it’s only getting worse. I’m still lucky if I can get an hour or two of uninterrupted breathing, and making a quick Target run to pick up coffee and sugar or my latest prescription or getting the mail or taking out the trash is an effort that sometimes seems as monumental – and potentially lethal – as climbing Everest. But I continue to survive. It’s almost funny, really; I’ve heard a joke a few times that basically sums it up: “I have autoimmune problems. I’m so awesome, only I can kill me.” It’s true. Snake and spider bites? Nothing. Broken bones, blood loss, shredded flesh? I laugh at you. Questionable food choices hold no worry for me – except for that last trip to Red Robin – and with the exception of severe hydrophobia, I’m not worried about the elements either. But my immune system (or lack thereof, depending on how many steroids the pulmonologist has decided I need that week) certainly seem to have it in for me. They’re still saying surgery is probably the best option, and it’s still painfully out of reach.

I’m going to take a second and get semi-political and “problematic,” primarily because someone felt the need to inform me that my GoFundMe and Patreon were unnecessary and pointless because I have privilege that will protect me. This person has a fairly sizable Patreon, and has done multiple GoFundMe campaigns (usually to pay for legal costs as they have difficulty following rules like paying rent, having a driver’s license, registering their car, or leaving an establishment when told they are not welcome) that were quite successful. To them – and anyone like them – I say “fuck you.” Your imaginary concept of privilege doesn’t seem to care what color or sexuality I am; it cares that my lungs are an easy target and seems determined to rip them to shreds. Also “fuck you” that someone who flaunts the law, wants to scream victim and oppression at every point, and relies on made-up bullshit to grift people feels the need to take time out of their busy day explaining how there’s a secret squirrel account tied to their “Straw Man’s” SSN that can pay off all debts to harass me for the cardinal sin of asking for help. Wanna trade? I’ll take your skin color and sexual status if I also get your bank account and apparent immunity to criticism or consequences, and you can have my privilege and my lungs. We’ll see how that goes.

Okay, got that out of my system. Wait. Not quite. “Sovereign Citizens and Moors are giant dickbags, and if they think they’re beyond the law, then we should just start shooting the assholes and be done with it.” Go ahead. Lien my bond or whatever. It’ll be funny.

Okay, really done with that. But, in all seriousness, my lungs are fucked, my finances are worse since I haven’t been able to work in over a year, and I could really use some help. If you think you can assist, please take a minute to drop by (or share the link) my GoFundMe or Patreon. It’d really help.

Thanks for reading, everyone. Hopefully I’ll have a bit of fiction available for you next week. Still mulling it over. We’ll see how it turns out.

Until next time.

KA Spiral no signature

21
Dec
19

Christmas Time

I am not a Christmas person.

As a child, the family had an… interesting… way of dealing with Chrismas, which mostly soured me on the concept. Years later, I made an attempt to celebrate my own Christmas with someone I cared deeply about that blew up in my face. Then I spent six years working retail and watching how people behave from late November until February when the gift receipts are no longer valid, and that finished it off for me.

I acknowledge others do it, and don’t begrudge them or try to berate them for it. I am aware there’s probably hundreds of assorted “Christmas-like” holidays around this time, and don’t try to bully them into a case of the bah humbugs, either. I do my thing, they do theirs.

This Christmas is looking particularly grim, however. There’s the usual apathy and depression to do with the holiday, but added on is the knowledge of what a burden I’ve been to my partner through the year, and how she – who very much is in love with the holiday and wants to celebrate it – is being denied that (as well as any of the things on her Christmas wish list) because of how things are. That’s plenty more miserable to me than my general malaise surrounding the day and how it creeps ever closer.

Still fighting with the disability people – apparently letters from two doctors alongside a full functional capacity evaluation that says “it is unsafe for him to return to work” and demanding surgery isn’t “sufficient evidence of disability” – and doing what I can to hurry it through, with no end in sight.

Still need that surgery, and more pressing at the moment is playing catch up with the bills that continue to pile up while I sit on lockdown. Some of you know I have a Patreon; some of you know I have a GoFundMe set up. If anyone out there, in the spirit of Christmas – or who want to give my long-suffering partner some breathing room for the holiday – can help, even with just a share or word of encouragement, it’d be greatly appreciated. Links below.

Patreon

wordmark_on_navy

GoFundMe

gofundme-logo-copy

If you’ve put up with my whimpering this year, thank you. There’s hundreds of you who, for some reason, seem interested in the things I have to say, and while I have difficulty expressing it or sometimes batten down the hatches and crawl into my hole, it matters to me. More than any of you may know. Hopefully, all of you out there have a Merry Christmas (or whichever form of “<Good> <Your Holiday>” you prefer) and a great 2020.

KA Spiral no signature

 

23
Sep
18

Keeping Boats Afloat

“Whatever floats your boat.” It’s a phrase I’m fond of, for no particular reason. It’s frequently spoken slightly dismissively, usually in relation to a habit or endeavor that evokes little or no emotional response in myself but that seems of interest or import to another. Doubly so if it’s an interest or important subject that I don’t understand why it’s important.

Everybody’s out there just doing their thing, living their lives. Frequently the things going on in one person’s life are of no relevance to another. That’s how we get along; doing our best to keep our own boats floating without crashing into someone else’s or letting them ship water onto ours to save their own.

Maybe I’m going too far with the analogy. Oh well.

There’s going to be some whining and begging here, so you are free to skip with no hard feelings. I’m doing my best to get more content up, which isn’t always easy for reasons we’ll delve into in a moment, but hopefully there’ll be some more stuff for fiction, gaming or general horror fans soon.

I’ve had a lot of health problems this year. Severe jaw infection, pneumonia twice, strep, mold infection in the lungs, severe asthmatic beatdown from multiple forest fires, poisoned by algae in the water supply, constant fights with depression, schizophrenia and bipolar disorder and now the potential of autism rearing its head. I’m a bloody mess.

None of those things help with writing, obviously; worse, they make it hard if not occasionally impossible to work, which means no money, which means no meds, which exacerbates the problem, compounding it exponentially.

To continue the above metaphor, the boat is springing leaks faster than I can find corks and bail water; drowning becomes an ever-more-realistic prospect… in a more literal way than one would like, given the penchant for lung problems I possess.

So, anyway. That’s why you haven’t seen much of me lately; I’m either lying on the couch staring at a visual novel while hooked up to a nebulizer or scrambling in brief periods of wellness to try to catch up or sleeping off the latest cocktail of medications that will supposedly fix me “any day now.”

I need help. (“So what?” I hear you say, “So does everyone!” I hear you shout.) So I turn here, where there are supposedly roughly 400 people who pay at least some attention to the things I say and do.

First, to each of you that reads this blog, pays attention to my Tweets, watches my videos or has bought or read my books, thank you. Intellectual and moral support by way of the idea that someone, somewhere is paying attention and may even like my stuff matters. Keep at it.

To those of you who’ve been in bad places and crawled out, or take pity on those who are sitting in their mental and physical caves somewhere despite not having been there themselves, or those who’ve drawn some entertainment or inspiration from the things I’ve done, thank you.

To all of them (and anyone not already covered who happens to read this) give me a moment of your time; I have a GoFundMe and a Patreon, both of which are there to help me keep paying for my meds and keep the lights on in those periods where I can’t work. If you feel like it, you can drop by and drop something in the bucket. Doesn’t matter if it’s a dime or a thousand, it’s appreciated and helps. But don’t think this is just a begging drive; sure, cash is great, but there’s less physical ways to show that what I do matters to someone.

A like. A share. A “keep at it, bro” e-mail or Tweet. Something to show that I’m not beating my head against a wall in the hopes that the concrete cracks before my skull and shouldn’t just throw my hands up in the air and walk away or let myself go down with the ship.

Okay, I’m done whinging for now. For those more interested in “real” content, I should have the second chunk of “Three Blue Hearts” up during the coming week, and I’m trying to put something together for Halloween – might be a stream of Death Mark or Call of Cthulhu, might be a livechat, might be something else, suggestions are welcome.

That’s all for now. And don’t forget, go hug your favorite artist or mentally ill person (or both) today. They probably need it.




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