Obamacare

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Dear President Obama,
You have screwed me. I try not to be political, considering I have yet to learn my place as to sides. You sir , I voted for you. I cried when you won. A victory for America I thought. Health care for all! Finally something I could comprehend.
This healthcare, this Obamacare…. I sit here as I type this with swollen lymph nods . I can barely speak with out excruciating pain. My ears ringing and throbbing, my right eye is pouring out involuntary tears. I have no medical. My family who makes less then poverty , yet to much for assistance. My family of five. Your family… Didn’t you say you cared for us? The little people?
I work all day caring for my husband who has kidney failure, seizures, is blind and diabetic, blood pressure through the roof and I am thankful he had problems before you went into office and Medicare and SSI picked him up. Something your predecessors implemented prior to your untimely inauguration. My daughter who is prone to kidney infection takes a handful if vitamins everyday to keep her body working proper. My two sons who , when they do get a cough are treated homeopathically. Thank God for natural remedies , or who knows what kind of debt I would be in.
We barely make it each month. I loath the holidays which means mommy skips dinner to supply wrapped up gifts under the tree. My shoes have literally had holes in them since February, yet your website said my monthly premium was $600?! Listen I can’t not eat all year, I can’t just stop paying my water and electricity bill. My children come first. I need them to have the bills paid so they can be as normal as possible.
You screwed me. I trusted you. I had faith in a man. That is probably my downfall. Do not trust a man of the world . You said you cared. Well I’m done. I don’t trust you, I don’t like you, and I am breaking up with the idea of what a good man you are. I am sorry it had to end like this, me sitting here trying to figure out how to get my body to quit hurting. Worried about how on earth I’ll survive yet another illness this year. While you sit there in your Oval Office as head of the free world.
As we try in vain to get my husbands health under control enough to allow him to be on the list of waiters. Those waiting for a kidney, a second chance, those waiting for their to begin again. I have spent more time this year alone on the phone or facing documents begging for my husbands insulin to be authorized. I have ended up shelling out all my pennies to get him what he needs. Your health care took over and now diabetic are apparently not allowed insulin. Riddle me this Mr. president…. How is a diabetic supposed to keep his sugars under control when they are not allowed the medicine that balances him out? How are we supposed to know how much to give him with out the over priced strips that tell us the amount to give? How is blood pressure suppose to stay down when you won’t let him have his four pills that regulate it?!
We are closing in on a time where people searching out antibiotics on the street will become a reality. Where once we had people breaking into pharmacies for vicodine and adderall, it will be replaced with those looking for asthma inhalers and tetracycline. You caused the beginning of a new drug war.
Blood pressure medications and glaucoma eye drops peddled on the streets like drug addicts in dark alleys. You did this. To me. To all of us. Why? You helped no one. You fixed nothing. How dare you. I am ashamed to say I once believed the man who spoke of change.
So this is it. I need to go tend to my family , the same one you lied to me about caring for. I need to figure out how to become better for them, because when you care for someone, truly, you change for the better.

Sorry to have allowed you to disappoint me,
Danielle Lomax

We are almost listed

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The call
The call before the amazing call of life
We got the call today. He has almost been approved. We also have a list of todos. We are looking at a list of appointments, list of improvements …. Lists. So my list, my “mommy do this” list is now stock piled. I plan in getting a job as soon as my car is running again. But I need your help.
http://www.gofundme.com/91l2o8

The end

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  Tim and I have decided that it would be best if I was just honest and told you the truth.
   Tim’s kidneys have dwindled. Along with that our marriage has come to a halt. I don’t need comments. I don’t want support. I just need you all to know so that maybe you can understand. So you can understand why I have dove into being a mom and walked away from being the wife I used to be. At least on social media.
   It has been a process. We have both tried to the best of our abilities. The empending doom of the probabilitiy of loss has taken its toll.
   Tim wants to go to Washington so he can find himself. He feels that the husband life and being a father is too much a burdon to bear especially with the illness he has. He decided he might as well start living for him.
   We are now two strangers living at the same address using the same toaster. Our commonalities have become scarce and we are no longer even speaking the same language. We are no longer able to be friends.  
    My heart aches. I always assumed I would be a widow. Nothing has prepared me for losing him prior to our unanswered questions being answered.
   I will stay here in Arizona. There is no where else for me to go. My trio and I will make it somehow. I have the faith that through this I will find some peace.
 
   You see Tim and I are fighters. I fight for my children. And Tim is busy fighting the world. We never had it easy, for that I am partially thankful.
   I am thankful because I am stronger now. I know what I want,and what I deserve.
   I hope that through this Tim can find his peace. You all know he has had a rough time.
     I am so sorry if you feel that I have failed you. I never meant for this to happen. 

Absence

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Dear You,
I have some explaining to do. I know. I made this vow to keep this up and I was proud of myself to make such a commitment. Here is the truth. The most truth you will ever read.
My life is full of commitments, responsibilities, and obligations. You came up short. So did all my friends, most of my family, and my beloved church. Tim has gotten worse. Not in his health,but in his actions. I have been too afraid to tell you. I didn’t want your judgement ,and the added fear that his family will read this ,just kept me away. My mother taught me to speak kindly.I have had nothing nice to say.

I met someone. I met myself. I saw myself as this haggard old girl who lost her dreams as a child and married a man who hates her. I felt disgusting,unwanted, used and degraded. I have always had self esteem issues. I have always thought I was nothing. Emotionally I was confused, my children , my dear dear children love me. I never understood why. Why is it that I think (unbiased of course) that my children are the most amazing people to breath air,and they think I am awesome? Yet my husband treats me like I am nothing more then a toy?
Tim is sick, not just in body but in mind. He doesn’t understand the power of words.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. I call bullshit. Whoever came up with that was deranged. How can you sacrifice ten years of your life for someone whose nickname for you is some derogatory term and not feel something?
Tim went off his medications. There I said it. He gave up. My children are not worth swallowing pills for, our home, our future,our past,our memories…..me ,I am not worth swallowing a pill for.He is on antidepressants, or was, and now I live with this man who I do not know. The man I have been weighing meat for to ensure he is not over doing his proteins,the man who I have studied for hours on end for to verify that he is getting his proper nutrients yet not killing himself. I gave him three children. I feel like i have been cheated on,but he cheated with himself.He doesn’t know the half of it.

You are probably thinking “he is blind”. Yeah I know. I got it,he can’t see what I do. But there are two different types of people in this world. Those who see a hill and climb it, and those who refuse to and scream at it for existing. Tim is a screamer. I am a climber. That is probably why we worked out so well. While he financially carried the weight, I carried him. My burdens are heavy.

In late January I had a change of heart. I looked in the mirror and decided that I wanted to like myself. Not a huge revelation , but probably the biggest step I have ever made. I forgave myself for not being who I wanted to be. I want to feel pretty.
As a wife to a man who is blind and one who is a narcissist ,everything you do,however you look,however you feel is insignificant. Consistently repeating myself, all my actions,and now that he is blind, my looks are insignificant. I was 21 when I became invisible. When I ceased to exist. I died. Everything that I was left me,except being a mother. I dove into that with such a force I forgot I was human. Not a bad thing I know, but still can’t I also be a person? Can’t I be me?
There is the problem. I lost me, I had no idea who I was. So I have spent the last few months trying to rediscover myself. In doing so I became a better mother, and closer to God. Two of the things Tim doesn’t understand. He thinks children should raise themselves,that they are burdens. My children are my life. He thinks God is a cartoon made up by some wack job old fairy tale. God is everything to me.
I also left my church. It killed me. I literally cried for a few days. I can’t take the judgments, the secret whispers, the annoying questions and proclamations of how much my husband loves me. Gossip is part of the church, I know. Judgment is worse in a church then anywhere, I get it. But when you involve my children into the equation….well it’s done. When the children hear their parents speak and tell my daughter the hideous things they say, I am done. When my daughter cannot go to the church with out getting called names, or ridiculed, I am done. When the church is worse then the school that my daughter used to come home crying from…. We are done.

I refuse to be who you all think I am. I refuse to be around people who see me as anything less then what I am. My daughter says I am Wonder Woman. Damn right, I am. I am happy, I am no longer invisible.

-Danielle

Ps. Tim’s health is stable….And my precious wonderful amazing son is turning one soon!!!!!

What if?

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What if everything worked out as planned for everything in your life? How absolutely boring and unordinary. What if when I was girl I finished high school as planned and went off to college? Or didn’t get pregnant a month or two prior to my 18th birthday. Or even, what if my dad never had brain cancer?
If one of those things never happened I would have never have met Tim. Just one. Maybe even smaller life events would have been life changing. I wouldn’t have my children. I would have never left dingy Puyallup. I would have married some slacker from my high school and lived a country song life. Like the ones where she is stuck in a small town and wishes for greater things.
I had the best childhood ever. I had great friends, silly boyfriends who never held my hand unless they asked. My brother was, and is the best brother you could ever imagine. We didn’t have the knock out drag out fights like sitcoms. I had a neighbor who was my age, who was my first best friend. We put soda cans on our bikes to make them into motorcycles, when they weren’t unicorns of course. She was awesome, always knew the best songs, and knew their lyrics.Even before the Internet could tell us ‘what’s what’. I was her fuzzy headed friend who had no idea what was cool. She was ‘cool’ though. She had the clothes and the way with words, always witty,always laughing. The best first best friend ever.
She had this chicken coop turned play house in her back yard. Even in 1993 she had started a pinterest phenomenon. We spent a summer painting it. Not to be bested, my dad built a make shift ridiculous looking tree house. It was terrifying going into it. She taught me how to rollerblade. She taught me about the scary bull that was behind our block. We would taunt it by wearing red and when the wind would blow a leaf or two we ran as if the bull was charging us. I think he was fake though, some little story one kid in the neighborhood made up so they could watch us young kids run from the wind.
In middle school I met a girl through 4-H. We showed dogs together and although we competed we relished every win the other had even if it meant our loss. She taught me about Nsync and about hair. She had the most beautiful hair I had ever seen. Long, auburn and thick. We took over the 4-H club as president and vice just so we could be in charge. We ruled the little county fair with our ‘to hot to trot’ attitudes. When I was 13 I went to my first secular concert. It was NSYNC, we cheer and screamed like they could hear us.
By her house there was a little trail with a huge rock that we would walk to and chat. One time we found tossed clothes of lovers who had passed by and rocked out for a bit. Being kids we thought for sure they were left over from a murderer. I don’t think we ever went back to that rock. The fear of green river killer was too prevalent.
By high school I was alone. My dad had been diagnosed with cancer and I had forgotten how to be ‘cool’. I wasn’t allowed to go to parties, so eventually I was not invited anymore. Not that I cared much. Most of the time I was working or standing in the door watching my dad sleep. There were times he would forget what was wrong with him and we would rehash what was wrong with him. Why he couldn’t walk right, or why he was suddenly bald,why he wore depends.He became violent with my mom and brother. Not often, not really mean either just bully stuff. His chest puffed out and demanding car keys.Never with me though. He treated me different then he did my brother. he always did.
My life has had many chapters. My motorcycle days where i chased bulls,my days of dog shows and music,my dad dying slowly. And then there was Ariana. My most precious gift.
If I had never had all the changes in my life, all the chapters, I would never have had Ariana. If I didn’t have Ari , I would never have met Tim. With out Tim there is no way I would have my boys.
Maybe this kidney failure is just another chapter that leads into a better story? Maybe this chapter has an ending like they all do. An ending that is for better or it is for worse. I think this one is both. Either way this ends, it ends just the same. This chapter is a life changer.

Turn around

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I am writing this on behalf of all diabetics,and anyone related to, or even an acquaintance of a diabetic.
I do not know what it is like to be a diabetic. Don’t stop reading, I am not done.
I do not have to watch what I eat, calculate how many carbs vs. exercise or inject myself with animal or human made insulin.
I do not have to prick my finger several times a day to check my blood sugar.
I have never had a seizure due to low blood sugar.
Or have the military tell me I am unworthy because of my medical condition.

I have though, seen as a very close bystander to the horrors.

November 22 2007 was the first Thanksgiving that fell on my fathers death anniversary. It was also the first time my husband openly tried to take his life using his insulin.
Let that sink in.
Here I am , in the worst excuse for an apartment I have ever entered ,almost willingly. When you entered my apartment all you saw was my living room and my kitchen. The only way to get to the bathroom( which leaked on my downstairs neighbor) was through my bedroom. It had dollar store linoleum squares on the entry way and kitchen that we had to keep re-glueing. And one whole wall was painted brick. Not painted like”Busy City Loft” or even cute rustic look painted, but solid white. Our ceiling was caving in ,in so many sporadic areas we had to keep moving our precious television so it didn’t get rained on during the wet season(year) of Washington.
I had one area of countertop in my kitchen;a whole whopping two feet of area. Ari and I danced around our tiny kitchen prepping thanksgiving dinner while Tim slept. Tim sleeping in until noon was nothing for us to be concerned with at the time. Newly blind his depression was crippling. He went from a man who was on his way to making 100 grand in a year, to a guy scraping by on social security. He was horridly depressed. his depression kept him in bed all day for almost two years.
When I finally ventured in to see if he wanted to join us all I saw was a blur of sheets as his body quaked. Then I saw it. The needle and vial next to his pillow. He had purposely overdosed. I quickly ran to the living room and got some cartoons on for Ariana, and snatched his glucagon kit.
Since he was seizing I had to wait it out a bit or else the needle would break. His body is so thin and boney I need the muscles to be relaxed. While I waited I wiped down his sweat with towels and ensured his head was protected. Quite honestly I know I am supposed to watch all limbs, but to me the head is a bit more important than an arm. Take his arm, he needs his head , at least that I my logic. After a few minutes he slowed his rapid movements enough that I could finally administer the shot.
When he came to he started to cry. Why did I care? Why did I give him the glucagon? Why wouldn’t I just let him die? Why?
I felt so selfish. Yet I cannot take back, nor do I want to take back ,giving him the shot. He is my husband.

When he goes low I am attacked. Normally I know it is going to happen so I send the kids to their room until it is over. Ariana has seen the seizures, but ever the viciousness prior to. He has bitten me on my face, pulled my hair, scratched me, punched me, thrown objects at me, spit on me, and he also says horrid things. Every name under the sun that you can think of .Even with some entertaining adverbs prior too. This is also his favorite time to tell me how he wants a divorce,or how he never loved me, and his most favorite “you are nothing more to me then a little ‘b!tch that gets me coffee” I am not allowed to be offended. He doesn’t recall doing anything like that. So I have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.

I think he tried it again. He denies it, but after that episode I have lost my trust with this ‘go low’ business. He keep talking about how this is the year he will die. He also has the handy dandy (massively annoying,time consuming ) insulin pump now. All he needs to give himself insulin is push a button.
Last night he was irritated that our children acted like children at the grocery store. Plus the added stress of going out to eat with our lovely louder then life Ryker,and our “sir throws a lot”Lincoln, he was frazzled. He didn’t see the half of it thankfully! How do you approach a man and tell him “sir, I am sorry but my son threw his macaroni in a fit of joy and one landed in your hair”. You don’t normally, you just pay, tip way to much and run for the door. Which we did. I know, I let this guy who was probably on his first date, sit there with my son’s macaroni in his hair,I am a horrid person.
After the absolute joy of spending time with the family Tim was done. He said he never wants to go out of the house ever again with the boys.( yes Ariana was there but she is a seemingly good child most of the time,no food of hers flew anywhere) I never want to take them anywhere either. I do get a lot of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ over there unmissable cuteness, their personalities together are too much for the public eye.
Tim was silent the whole way home. The only sound was the beeping of his insulin pump. I thought it was odd but nothing worth stopping the car and fraking out over. When we arrived home his blood sugar was 53 ( low) and he said he wanted a shower. He didn’t want any juice or anything so I thought I better give him a minute to shower and get over the fact that kids are tiresome. About ten minutes into his shower I hear some thumping.I thought he was just being a jerk and throwing a fit. This is where I failed as a wife. I dismissed it and kept picking up my house. It was pretty rhythmic after a few minutes, and a panic set in. I dashed over to his pump and it said he had 12 active units. 12! When you are low you need 0 active units and sugar. 12 will kill you if you are already dropping.
His bathroom door was locked so as I picked it( a talent I got from my con artist bio dad) I had Ari grab the shot and tester. At this point I could hear him moaning. I knew it was bad. Finally after the longest thirty seconds of my life I burst in door to see my naked husband wrapped up in the shower curtain seizing in the tub. Ari grabbed the two boys and headed to their room. I unwrapped him and then I saw the blood. He was covered in blood. Still seizing I tried to get him out of the tub and I couldnt do it. I rewrapped his lower half and had Ari try to help me. It didn’t work. We ended up just filling the tub with a few blankets to ease the pounding. After the shot was given he took an hour to finally communicate. He swears it wasn’t suicide. Or an attempt. If I had ignored him like he wanted ,who knows what would have happened. He could have died naked wrapped up in a shower curtain.
Dear diabetics, although I do not feel your pain, or know exactly what it is that you go through. I have seen the anguish. I have seen the highs and lows. I have seen a man’s body go from vibrant and mobile to a blind amputated sedentary shell. Listening in envy as the other men we know play with their kids and strike home runs on their church baseball team. I have held that hand.
Just do one thing, think of this as a plead from all your friends and family members. Insulin suicide is not the answer. I won’t bring God into this,even though He is everything to me. If you die due to diabetic complication you leave at least one person in utter and complete guilt. If you choose this method , whoever cares for you( and I do not mean strictly just in the caregiver sense) will forever feel as if they should have found you sooner. Life gets better. I know this. I used to live in a cockroach infested , crackhouse apartment and now live in a messy home that maybe someday I will own. The doctors do get what you are going through. Only those you love and love you can even get the slightest hint as to the horror of this silent disease. I am not going to go over this and re-read this in fear that my message to you will be tainted. I think I have said what I need to say, and hope you heard me.