Bring the Prestons Home to Spokane
Donation protected
SYNOPSIS: A disabled, chronically ill husband and father with pressing medical needs and a very limited income needs to move his family back home to Spokane for better medical care, a better support system and a better life.
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I'VE ALWAYS been the type of guy who hates asking for help; who enjoys the satisfaction of accomplishing things on his own, and even assisting others in achieving their goals. This was how I was able to live my life for its first 24 years or so, before I was sidelined by severe rheumatoid arthritis.
Nine years post-diagnosis, the disease has crippled me. All of my joints feel the wrath of RA to varying degrees (some to the point of permanent disfigurement), and I must now rely on the assistance of an electric wheelchair to get around. Things I can no longer do for myself — including some of the yucky, unpleasant stuff — have to be done by my wife, who not only takes care of me, but also chases after our wonderful, rambunctious two-year-old son. We have no support system here, so she does all of this on her own, around the clock, with no breaks. She is a saint.
I'm a thousand miles away from my family, away from lifelong friends, and out of the reach of significant medical help such as rheumatologists and physical therapists. It's time for us to come home so we can begin the long road to improving my health and our quality-of-life. We need to be around our loved ones, and give our little boy more opportunities to thrive.
In order to make this happen, though, we need lots of help.
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THOSE WHO don't know me, or who haven't seen me in years, are probably wondering how I got to this point; how my life got flip-turned upside-down, if you will. I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there; I'll tell you how I became the victim of a disease called RA.
In 2007, my disease progressed to the point where I could no longer work. Two weeks after resigning from my job, I moved from my lifelong home of Spokane, Washington, to Oroville, California (an economically depressed city plagued with drugs, crime and poverty), to become a live-in, unpaid volunteer at an inner-city church. It was something I could do despite my illness and limitations and still feel useful.
I had only planned on being in California for a year; two at the most. Life happened, though, and seven years later I'm still here: I met and fell in love with a California girl, and eventually married her and started a family.
I also, over the course of my time at the church, completely lost what little faith I had, coming out as an atheist in 2011. As a result, I've lost much of my Oroville-based support system; friendships I'd thought were unconditional. I hesitate to say we've been shunned, because it hasn't exactly been to Amish or Jehovah's Witness proportions. There's some contact once in awhile, but for the most part, we're on our own, living in a landlocked island of isolation.
The disease has now progressed to a point in which I can barely walk or perform some of life's more basic tasks, like put on my own socks, or get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. In addition to using the wheelchair, I now have to take three handfuls of pills everyday to maintain a tolerable physical pain level and emotional/mental state. I rarely get to leave my apartment, because the dilapidated, 50-year-old complex I live in has never been renovated and isn't wheelchair-accessible.
To put it diplomatically, we live in less-than-ideal conditions, which are detrimental to me, to my wife and especially to our son. The place is literally falling apart, drugs are consumed openly in the courtyard — sometimes in broad daylight, and our tiny apartment only has one bedroom (which we must share with a two-year-old who deserves his own room).
Most pressing of all, we have a mentally-unhinged, nocturnal upstairs neighbor, who sleeps all day and stays up all night watching television — loudly. (DVD binges of "Mr. Belvedere" and "Gimme a Break!" for those of you playing the home game.) This man has repeatedly stared into our windows and has threatened me for simply playing with my son too loudly during the day. He even once angrily kicked our front door while cussing me out and challenging me to come outside. For some reason, the police don't think this sort of behavior is worthy of any type of action, other than a stern reprimand.
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WITH ALL of this in mind, we feel as a family that this is the time for us to embark on our next chapter and move back to Spokane. Due to to our limited income, though, we just don't have the resources to make it happen, so we've started this campaign to reach out for financial support and any other help we can get for this move.
In addition to monetary donations, we need help with things like transferring my disability and Medicaid cases, finding a job for my wife, and locating a wheelchair-accessible rental unit to move into upon arriving. We want to make this as seamless a transition as possible.
Our goal is to be in Spokane between August and December of this year. The numbers in this campaign are just estimates based on what we could find online for interstate moving, but if you have tips on how to cut any of the costs involved, we would love to hear them. Moral support, advice, encouragement and passing the link to this campaign on to as many people as possible are also greatly appreciated.
Thanks in advance for any help you can provide. Here's to a better future!
With sincere gratitude,
Brad, Nicky and Harry Preston
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I'VE ALWAYS been the type of guy who hates asking for help; who enjoys the satisfaction of accomplishing things on his own, and even assisting others in achieving their goals. This was how I was able to live my life for its first 24 years or so, before I was sidelined by severe rheumatoid arthritis.
Nine years post-diagnosis, the disease has crippled me. All of my joints feel the wrath of RA to varying degrees (some to the point of permanent disfigurement), and I must now rely on the assistance of an electric wheelchair to get around. Things I can no longer do for myself — including some of the yucky, unpleasant stuff — have to be done by my wife, who not only takes care of me, but also chases after our wonderful, rambunctious two-year-old son. We have no support system here, so she does all of this on her own, around the clock, with no breaks. She is a saint.
I'm a thousand miles away from my family, away from lifelong friends, and out of the reach of significant medical help such as rheumatologists and physical therapists. It's time for us to come home so we can begin the long road to improving my health and our quality-of-life. We need to be around our loved ones, and give our little boy more opportunities to thrive.
In order to make this happen, though, we need lots of help.
--
THOSE WHO don't know me, or who haven't seen me in years, are probably wondering how I got to this point; how my life got flip-turned upside-down, if you will. I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there; I'll tell you how I became the victim of a disease called RA.
In 2007, my disease progressed to the point where I could no longer work. Two weeks after resigning from my job, I moved from my lifelong home of Spokane, Washington, to Oroville, California (an economically depressed city plagued with drugs, crime and poverty), to become a live-in, unpaid volunteer at an inner-city church. It was something I could do despite my illness and limitations and still feel useful.
I had only planned on being in California for a year; two at the most. Life happened, though, and seven years later I'm still here: I met and fell in love with a California girl, and eventually married her and started a family.
I also, over the course of my time at the church, completely lost what little faith I had, coming out as an atheist in 2011. As a result, I've lost much of my Oroville-based support system; friendships I'd thought were unconditional. I hesitate to say we've been shunned, because it hasn't exactly been to Amish or Jehovah's Witness proportions. There's some contact once in awhile, but for the most part, we're on our own, living in a landlocked island of isolation.
The disease has now progressed to a point in which I can barely walk or perform some of life's more basic tasks, like put on my own socks, or get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. In addition to using the wheelchair, I now have to take three handfuls of pills everyday to maintain a tolerable physical pain level and emotional/mental state. I rarely get to leave my apartment, because the dilapidated, 50-year-old complex I live in has never been renovated and isn't wheelchair-accessible.
To put it diplomatically, we live in less-than-ideal conditions, which are detrimental to me, to my wife and especially to our son. The place is literally falling apart, drugs are consumed openly in the courtyard — sometimes in broad daylight, and our tiny apartment only has one bedroom (which we must share with a two-year-old who deserves his own room).
Most pressing of all, we have a mentally-unhinged, nocturnal upstairs neighbor, who sleeps all day and stays up all night watching television — loudly. (DVD binges of "Mr. Belvedere" and "Gimme a Break!" for those of you playing the home game.) This man has repeatedly stared into our windows and has threatened me for simply playing with my son too loudly during the day. He even once angrily kicked our front door while cussing me out and challenging me to come outside. For some reason, the police don't think this sort of behavior is worthy of any type of action, other than a stern reprimand.
--
WITH ALL of this in mind, we feel as a family that this is the time for us to embark on our next chapter and move back to Spokane. Due to to our limited income, though, we just don't have the resources to make it happen, so we've started this campaign to reach out for financial support and any other help we can get for this move.
In addition to monetary donations, we need help with things like transferring my disability and Medicaid cases, finding a job for my wife, and locating a wheelchair-accessible rental unit to move into upon arriving. We want to make this as seamless a transition as possible.
Our goal is to be in Spokane between August and December of this year. The numbers in this campaign are just estimates based on what we could find online for interstate moving, but if you have tips on how to cut any of the costs involved, we would love to hear them. Moral support, advice, encouragement and passing the link to this campaign on to as many people as possible are also greatly appreciated.
Thanks in advance for any help you can provide. Here's to a better future!
With sincere gratitude,
Brad, Nicky and Harry Preston
Organizer
Brad Preston
Organizer
Oroville, CA
