Beth goes a Begging!

I went begging today. Yes, begging. And in sub-freezing weather, it snowed. I only lasted 20 minutes. I had the permission of the owner. And if you are offended because I am bringing down the image of the disabled or I am giving in to stereotype, then PLEASE point me in some direction where I CAN get a job in this town, or assistance that does accommodate me and give me dignity. I still have dignity here, I am just being blatantly open about how desperate I am.
The sign reads: “Need money Please for an oxygen Concentrator and medicine for kittens in the Japan Cat Project. Thank you and Happy Day.” I emailed with David and found out that his greatest need is for medicine, specifically for Revolution that they can’t get in Japan (an anti-parasite Treatment). If you have any or can get it in bulk to ship, please let me know, or David directly (email me and I’ll give you his email address). He says plainly that medical costs are a huge part of keeping the kittens, and that he also has to treat for Ringworm and cocydium but doesn’t know the best medicines. I put the concentrator on there because we are about to find out today or tomorrow if and how much Blue Cross will cover and will have about 3-4 days to come up with about $1000. That is causing some tension. I, of course, was raising the money for the kittens and was calling, “Save the Kittens.” A woman talked to me and as soon as she found out about the concentrator and how I can’t leave the house for long, she put in a fiver.

“You can use this as you want,” she said, “But I REALLY want you to have a better life.”

I said, “I understand, but I’m sort of wanting the KITTENS to have a better life.”

She left with a “For YOU” statement.

We made $8.76.
I was wearing two pairs of gloves, which I thought would work to keep out the cold even with my poor circulation. As you see, my ears are uncovered. My pain after 20 minutes outside was SO intense, I could not use my hands, I could barely move one thumb. Linda wheeled me into the store. And then out and back home, she had to put on the seat belt, I had my wrists and one thumb. The pain was unbelievable. I know I have a compromised circulation but really….?
I am not sure what to say, there was blood pools but otherwise no circulation in my fingertips or the sides of my fingers, this is FROSTBITE, and not a mild case of it, and it happened in just over 20 minutes.

I at this point, between the “Oh God, Oh God.” And “Look at my HANDS!” I was saying, “Okay, I’m going back tomorrow! Boy those panhandlers have it tough!” I think Linda pointed out they don’t have a disease which makes them have no circulation in their hands!
Linda says she brought a lukewarm bowl of water. My GOD THE PAIN! I screamed and screamed and I don’t know how long except I am hoarse now because all I could feel and see what a red haze of pain. It was bad. At this point, if anyone even TRIED to get me to go back out and pan-handle, I would take an AXE to them…when I could grip it again. I started to realize, “How am I going to wheel myself anywhere?” Going down and back to the Video Store takes longer than that – and this was TWO pairs of gloves, one a super-thermal. Nothing except saving Linda was worth that kind of pain again. Was I to be housebound for the rest of my time?
At this point I am just sobbing, because Linda keeps making me put my hands in the bowl and I can’t scream anymore, I am screamed out so I am sobbing. I begged, very cheerful, for 20 minutes. I screamed and sobbed and lost hand function for about 30 or more. Suck!

David told me that he has gathered 100 postcards for me already! Damn, I will have to work harder. With him going around like that, it just makes me want to help him – this was my genius idea last night as I went to bed. Turns out not so genius. So I will keep putting on DVD’s as I can and I will sell Zed (copies are in, please pay through Linda’s blog if you want one!). And $8.76 Canadian is going to David’s kittens (he has eight right now, he went up to Tokyo earlier this week to take two to new owners and two others went to foster owners so he ONLY has eight). I wish I knew how to help Linda and the Oxygen Concentrator, but I don’t. And so tomorrow I will come up with a plan on how to raise money for that. I know that Linda thinks I am stupid, and that maybe part of this begging is satire, but part of this is the genuine desperation I feel to help Linda and David cover costs. I know people in need, and I don’t know how to help them, I don’t know how to help myself. If it hadn’t been for Linda, I wouldn’t have been able to get home.

Maybe I am so desperate to help David and the kittens because I know they will live on and I will not. That if I save them, some shred of me lives on another 12 years in what I have done. Maybe I am so desperate because I am ashamed I don’t know how to help Linda raise money. That I am the thing in the house which must be fed and taken care of. And now, I am too disabled to beg, what kind of irony is that? I had my Dicken’s Cup and everything! If I could, I would be knocking on doors offering to sweep driveways or shovel walkways for $5, $10, $20. But I can’t.

Turns out I didn't raise much for David, but something, and that is better than not trying at all. Tomorrow the concentrator! And better gloves!

Helping the hurt, and the magic number: 81

From Friday at 2:00 pm until Sunday at 3:00 when Cheryl had to leave for the ferry, I had 49 hours to deal with an onslaught of emails regarding postcards. Thank you those who have passed on names and those who are still putting up notices on message boards, I still welcome more names for the Postcard Project.

In the end, with all the new names coming in (58 in one 24 hours period), and with the people from our previous list I wanted to do as well, we did 81 postcards; each person had their likes and other details noted, the 'just right' postcard matched (until 5:00 a.m. and after on Friday night/Saturday morning, continued on Saturday upon getting up), then rubber stamped, left to dry and stickered. Then a return address label applied, an address label created and stamps placed. The Postcard Project currently sends to six continents and one subcontinent, and everyone who has donated a postcard, a stamp, a sticker, $5 or an address is part of that. I, with the help of Cheryl and Linda pick each postcard. I write each postcard. I go to bed last. Because these people trusted me. I will NOT let them down. On Saturday/Sunday morning I went to sleep after 7:00 am when the last 15 postcards were just a matter of grit your teeth and force the shoulder to move, the ribs to breathe. I had to take three times my painkiller and two times my sedative to sleep and then I was up again. Not one person was left behind.

This time of year is difficult for many people, we can feel a bit like this, alone in a town, where everyone else has homes or friends or family and we are just, out there, alone. This picture reminds me of Cardiff because it took about six months, as I moved in late fall, and it was cloudy and rainy, then rainy and cloudy, then snowing and finally one day….the sun shone! And I thought, “Wow, this place actually looks decent!” And then the clouds came in and everything looked grey and slate again. So I know it can be hard for people, the combo of weather and everyone busy with family and friends, but me (and others).

Now, of the people who sent emails for postcards, there was a significant percentage who felt this was a total scam, and acted like royal jerks. Some deliberately insulted, some refused to give any name to address the postcard, some refused to give any details, some were abusive: I was a scam artist, I was a twist on the 14 million dollars to give you from Africa (if only you give me your bank details and name and address), or I was going to sell them Viagra. Not ONE of these was left behind, these were the people who I stayed up until 7:00 am, who I groaned in pain over. Why? Because these were the people more than any that needed to believe. No, not in Santa Claus, but in the idea that people could act for other reasons than to hurt, to exploit, to swindle, to deceive. I am fragile now physically, and will take a few days to recover. But when the ferry left, not one was left behind, in fact I asked Cheryl and she agreed to take them to the post office to be picked up for sorting tonight, so they can get to these people this week. Many people were lovely. But some, yes not so nice, and I could have been offended, but instead I realized that they had been hurt so often, they didn’t know how to care or even risk letting someone care about them. Now THOSE are the people who need me. And of the others, the ones who gave only addresses or one liners, which of them would be the ones who sat at home getting no post, no messages. I didn’t know, but if there was a way to make sure they didn’t feel the world had forgotten them, I was going to get it there (with the help of Linda and Cheryl!).

It is, I have found, quite hard to help. A friend of mine tried to put on a dinner for the homeless a few weeks ago but found that not a SINGLE church would let them use any areas. The friend said it was different than last year, like the patience or the caring had run out. She pressed on and found a place. But I know from myself, and from times when I have wanted to help how hard it is sometimes to get into it. There are many organizations created to help, or to assist ‘certain people’ in ‘certain ways.’ But after creation and bylaws and rules and people deciding who is the "right" certain people, groups aren’t always there to help EVERY person, and it can be hard to break through with, “But I just want to make this situation better!” I have been rejected by two crisis hotlines because they didn’t take anyone with mood disorders. Rejected by Big Sisters’ for orientation. Rejected by a church on assisting at Pride because my beliefs were not “Christian enough.” Which is why I babysat for female asylum seekers going in for free legal consults and visited people I knew from a friend or a friend of a friend in hospital.

I got an email today which told me that a group that I joined as a disabled person had without my consent withheld my membership for over six months and now I was being given notice to decide if I ‘really’ wanted to be a member. The person who made that decision was AB. I paid money, but it had been kept (unknown by me) and now, the AB section wanted to know if I was REALLY ready to make that commitment. It was a membership which would have automatically entitled me to two other memberships, and grants and assisted funding I was told. And this was kept from me…..because I was being ‘helped’ by having a ‘trial’ period without knowing it. So I can easily understand how hard it can be to fight through for my friend to give food to someone homeless.

I did not want a single one of those 81 people (a new record which will NOT be broken, since I am currently a bit broken and can’t speak correctly; I had a TIA and kept on anyway) to have to be told or decided, ‘not enough for you.’ I fought for them, as I could. And I got more names already to work on. Please remember this week that there are students who are heading home for the ‘holidays’ which might be great and might not, and there might be students for whom, there is no where to go. In the UK, as a grad student, I squatted in an unheated flat and then once a week I splurged on a dive of a Bed and Breakfast which offered a shower. When first homeless as I tried to find a place so Linda could come over, I went to the YWCA and the City council. I was told that I needed to register and after six months of being homeless, I could be helped with a room. No joke. I didn’t “qualify” for homeless yet. Haha. I have spent a night on the streets of Toronto at temp of –20. No joke. Not too safe.

Okay, on to lighter topics, which is cat girls! The other day some people wanted to know what I thought they might look like as a Cat Girl, so here they are: They have the hand over the mouth to keep the lungs warm (always important) and the shawl for (what are shawls for, I just use hoodies, but maybe the shawl is a fashion statement too!)….keeping warm. And the cleaning uniform because they are a doer; just because you have a disability doesn’t change who you are, sometimes it highlights it. And they are a doer, a lot of people with disabilities are. From getting degrees to putting out books to doing crafts and knitting or making sure I have all my toes due to socks, there are a LOT of doers!

And here is my welcome to winter and probably a UK or Euro Catgirl, who is off to find some mulled wine (or Glowwine! - warm wine sold at train stations, or Xmas festivals - yum!). She has on her scarf (I got mine in Italy!), and is ready to meet the cold, except her thighs which seem cold proof! Still, go British Cat-girl, who I hope is Irish or Welsh since I love the accent and has a name like Gwendolyn. And of course, THIS is what I want to come home to; my very own Linda in a frisky mood (too much Glow-wine!) with our own cats. Except for the minor realities of a owner who won’t allow cats (Booo!) and me in a hospital bed, I’m keeping the dream alive. She makes a very nice cat girl with her ears and her...um....assets!

I wanted to just say again about David and his work to help the cats of Kyoto. He estimates that “I'm sure with our work this year we have prevented births of 1000s of kittens who would have been homeless” not only through adoption but his catch, neuter and release program. I am sure that without David there would be many more kittens who died, without protection, without food or simply dumped. He has a page which lists ways to help, from a donation (you can even sponsor a specific cat), to helping translate (English to Japanese or back), to buying a T-shirt, sending cat toys, or cat food.

I mention the cat site because it is easy to say, “let’s save all the homeless first” and as a person who was homeless three times in my life, I sure wished someone had saved me! But that is a complicated issue, and while we work on that, there is no reason not to love cats. I do, and David does, out of his own house and pocket, and time is how he loves them. Maybe I should be giving food instead of postcards but postcards are what I know so that is what I give. David learned about the Postcard Project and has already donated postcards and is, beyond his OWN Japan Cat Project, collecting postcards for the Postcard Project too. So can I ask that if you chose to donate, whether it be a cat toy, or to buy a t-shirt, can you let him know that Elizabeth from the Postcard Project told you about him (as he has a hard time tracking all the people). I ask this because I said how much a difference my readers have made on me. And I want him to remember you too. He and I have been emailing so I think if you mention me, he will remember. And maybe you and he can email? I don’t know, but I want him to know that you are the type of person who makes a difference in people’s lives (at the very least mine and his).

I have to go now, and try to rest. But this is me again as a cat girl (the non-neurotic kind), the kind who loves cherry blossoms and the night sky and who sometimes learns a bit to act and not react. This weekend I learned that caring about people who are abusive, is like caring about a cat who has been abused, and abandoned. These cats, they claw at you because they are too scared from experience to let you hug them. You just have to care and give them the chance to heal at their own pace.

Catgirls, postcards, masturbation and the future.

What am I doing?Why finding shapes in the clouds of course! No, I am trying to figure out how to become a better partner, a better person, and a more honest blogger. Linda told me to blog with honesty, not for comments, or readers but for myself. Yes, the comments matter, but she feels that my need to write matters too. So this is what I decided yesterday and today in contemplation: I am going to try to React emotionally less, and try to act instead. That plan worked for a WHOLE 90 minutes. Part of the problem is the disease, part of the degeneration of the mind means that effectively I have the emotional aspect, much of the time of a 8 to 12 year old, but the vocabulary of someone quite older. Plus, as my mind continues to erase parts of my life, the most emotionally vivid are left: my dreams, my struggles, but also my horrors. And so, I have inadvertently offended people because I reacted out of proportion of the situation, for an adult. But I am still going to keep trying.

So I try to not REACT, though when I got the ‘nasty’ EEG tech on Wednesday, I couldn’t help do a little debate to wind her up, which she got revenge on by having ‘the last word’ while telling me I had to stay still or ruin the test. Then when removing the 12 electrodes stuck in my hair and scalp, the hair that is thinning even more, she ‘saved time’ by simply grabbing the cord they all connected to and YANKED, ripping all the electrodes (and bits, and chunks of hair) off of my head with force. She also came over when I could not move, and kept raising my arm and dropping it to see the dead weight. We COULD have used that data to compare how I am sending OUT the signal to move but nothing is happening IF she had made a note, but she was sort of annoyed at me because I wasn’t moving and came over and played with different body parts. Professional? Um, I thought morticians had more respect for the body.

I have a favor and something of interest to ask you to take a bit of time to look at. The first is my Postcard Project. I know, Elizabeth and her Postcard Project. I would like you to ask to think of anyone, including yourself who would like a postcard in the next week or two. Because as people become busy, rushing around, there are some who are NOT going to office parties and who are not having a ‘good time.’ And maybe like me, who are estranged from their family. Or maybe who don’t get a lot of Xmas cards. Please post around about the project, I am asking as a favor. I know last time I got offended because I was depicted as a poor crippled woman who needed something to do. But you know what, I am poor, I am crippled and I do need to send out postcards, it is in my blood. I don’t care if I am portrayed as the little match girl reincarnated. I don’t care if the people are able bodied, I LOVE sending postcard, I don't care if they are super able bodied, or have superpowers or are famous. Or they think it is amusing. I don’t care. I just want to send the postcards. I am NOT going to let myself React, I will act. Honest!

I ended up talking today in an interview about accessibility in Victoria about the Postcard Project. Because I said that for me, accessibility is making sure that everyone is included, that everyone is having the same good time, the same standard of experience. I told the reporter that I realized that I was privileged before, sure I had tried to eliminate any discrimination on race, and worked toward gender and sexual orientation equality (sigh, but if only those heterosexuals would just, you know, not BROADCAST the orientation SO much with kisses on TV, and that! Sorry, still working on that one). But I never looked at people using walkers or those using a cane, or a wheelchair or any assistive device or brace and thought ‘that could be me’. No, that was THEM and I was me, and so when I fenced or I did sports or taught or was in church or participated in society, I would make some accommodation IF TOLD TO. But I never looked around and said to myself, “All of us, we will have the same level of experience.” And worked toward that. Because they (a wheelchair, for goodness sakes) weren’t like ME.

I’m ashamed of that.

So when the reporter asked about the Postcard Project I told him that is was my attempt at postal accommodation. That with impediment or not, that stuck inside due to snow or ill health or not, lonely or not, healthy or not ALL would be equal in The Postcard Project. That is why I would ask for a favor and have if possible that people list about the Postcard Project, and link to it in boards or with people, or on forums that I DO want to send people postcards, very much. This isn’t my penance, this is my progress.

The second thing is that a man named David Wybenga in Japan is helping me find some postcards. He and his wife run a program in Kyoto called The Japan Cat Network, because in Japan, problems (like disabled people for example), are not talked about and pretended not to be seen. Stray cats is one of these problems, here is an English article from The Japan Times on it. Very few stray cats are neutered, many cats are simply abandoned in ill health. David and Susan do a Trap, Neuter and Release program, they take ill cats to the vet and take in abandoned kittens before they die. For instance Sylvie was misidentified on intake as they post Sylvia's picture on the webpage and say “is actually a boy...” Oh well, gender bending fun for cats too! They have a page which lists ways to help, from a donation (you can even sponsor a specific cat), to helping translate (English to Japanese or back), to buying a T-shirt, sending cat toys, or cat food to (oh why do I live so far away!?), coming to attend the monthly cat ‘play days.’

This of course, in true anime style got me to thinking of cat girls (a common anime theme! What is better than a cat, and a girl? So first I had to find the ‘Linda’ catgirl. Here she is: she is professional and businesslike and only relaxes at home when she gets her fur combed out and then gets high on catnap and chasing birds that ALWAYS get away. As for me, here I am in a stylized, “Anne of Green Gables” catgirl. This would probably finally make my mother happy, but in reality, to those who know me in person and on line, that’s not really me is it? No, the truth (and I am trying for honesty here), is that THIS is me as a cat; a little insecure, a little neurotic (talks to herself, talks to her plushie), and a little in need of reassurance more than the usual cat. Also tends to ‘run away’ to like...the garden, and then sulks when no one notices and comes back. Then brings back a falling leaf she 'caught and killed' and wants to be rewarded.

Just as I know there are many cat owners out there (and I would love to be one of them!), and cat lovers, that this might be a project you would find of interest. Since this is a very global blog. Knitters please wait, I WILL have a knitting themed blog post in the near future, yes, be still all of our beating hearts.

Thank you for reading and for checking out the sites and if possible for passing on info about the postcard project. I have met some wonderful people and friends through the last time, and yes, I have a lot of people I send postcards to that I haven’t heard back from but that isn’t the point. That the postcards went out and they got them is the point!

The question for me, which I don’t know if I have faced is, who am I going to be in the future. We don’t talk about the future except for dying. Well, there is a space of time between NOW and dying and that is the future. And that is what I want to talk about. Because in a lot of ways, I have been so busy trying to make the future longer, or better that I kept missing it entirely, until it became the past. And quite honestly, sitting in front of lilies (waiting to die) and always looking backward, at what was, is okay, but not a life. It works for a time, but then my legs get all cramped, well they don’t actually because they don’t feel, but it is silly and stupid. Get up and go and DO something.

Okay, I am not the same Elizabeth who wrote Zed, which is a good book (oh and on sale at Linda's website again, we got a shipment from the publisher!), not my BEST novel, but a good book. I have realized I am not going to be the person who I dream, or dreamt of being, or who I liked being in my casual moments (this picture is for Cheryl). I am severely disabled and that is that. I spent a great deal of my time in an environment much more like this (if you just imagine a wheelchair, tons of books, stacks of paper, boxes of postcards, boxes of stickers, and everything from nose cream to stop my nose bleeding to steroid inhalers to keep my lungs open) instead of that clean table top.

I have good memories but I am never again going to be what I trained to be, no matter how many fencing and epee books I have. No matter how many dreams I have where I am fencing or have a sword in my hand again. This is wonderful to look at and wonderful for a time, a small time, to remember, but then, I need to move on.

A great deal of my life, when I am not in my hospital bed, or at the computer is spent like this (only I DON’T have a real cat to hold, but I have something close!). A little lonely, a little frustrated, trying not to be angry or sad. 'Being' means dealing with what comes: today my hands were shaking for the first four hours or so (couldn't hold a drink that well), and now they are still shaking but only a little, so I can type. I live in my mind; a mind which I know will probably erase everything in a few days. And to be honest, if I had more sensation, I would find the perfect story or fantasy and then I would masturbate again and again and again (hey, I forget every few days and the fantasy is just as good the 2oth time - perfect plan). Okay, yes, probably NOT what you thought I would be doing, that I would be writing the UN. Okay, fine! When I’m not masturbating, I’ll change the world, how about that?

See, honesty. I wake up horny some days, I just can’t seem to do anything about it – but with some tips from the MS society, I am trying (but oh GOD is it frustrating to get so CLOSE!). I have created myself a few jobs: the postcard project is a big one and I am going slowly through and editing some of the essays to try and make a book about degenerative and chronic disabilities. About the real stuff, which does yes, include the days you are high as a kite because they got the pain meds a little wrong (but in a GOOD WAY!). But also the days of crying, and of feeling that as a person, I can’t go on, that I was permantly BROKEN. But humans are unique and resilient. We do go on.

One thing I forgot for a while, because I was so worried about the pain, and that I was dying was about my future. I have an outline of a plan. Money from publisher is not coming, so I will work on another book. Because I want to be in Hawaii in the spring with Linda, Cheryl and anyone else that wants to join us – lets go to the Onsen! I will sell anime, I will sell books, I will sell things of the past, the life that I do not have. Because I will, yes, with some emotional pain, look to the future. I am taking off my wings. I am going to be mundane, if that is possible for someone with an open file as a cult leader and possible murderer! I am going to slog away at things and try to do a good job today so that I can reap the rewards in the future. I am going to spend quality time with Linda now, so our relationship is as strong or stronger than when this started. I told someone today, “Well, MSA has a 100% mortality rate…..so FAR.” It isn’t over until it is over. And while I am not a sword maiden anymore, I am not going to just wait around to die. I hope you have a great weekend. Cheryl and Linda and I will be doing postcards (and hopefully filling the new requests that pour in!).