My International Boobies

Hello. My name is Eren. I am 40 years old, an artist, a mother of 2 beautiful daughters, a grandmother of a beautiful baby girl I haven't had the chance to see yet, a stepmother of a son I gained when I married the love of my life, and my husband, Mark.

In order to fully understand why I started this Gofundme page, you'll need to know some back story. Mainly, you need to know about how I came to be in Canada in the first place. I'm going to share things about myself that not a lot of people know, but I will also avoid certain details to protect the privacy of others.

Before my sweet Mark, I had been in less than healthy relationships. I lived a naive, sheltered life and fell for someone who had been exposed to the worst side of life. His life had been quite the opposite of my protected, sheltered upbringing. I was barely 19.

I quickly moved in. In the next 6 months, I was introduced into the drug scene, tagged along into the deepestz darkest parts of the drug world, and even married. For over a decade, I lived a mostly unstable life, with drugs and alcohol often coming in and out of the relationship(s) and life. There were times I was isolated from friends and family, torn between right, wrong, trust, love, and self preservation. I was terrified and unsure more than anyone should ever have to be, but I put on a brave face. I didn't want to cause more problems, and certainly didn't want anyone to worry. That being said, now you'll understand why this back story is so important regarding how I ended up in Canada and why I have to ask for your help.

Without further ado, here's my story: When I met my husband, I was 35, I had given up on happiness and relationships. I thought that my life was going to be lonely and miserable, and had started resentfully accepting my fate. Well, until I unexpectedly met my husband, that is. On a whim one evening, in my usual(back then)  rum-influenced state, I decided to hop on the Playstation, even though I hadn't touched it for months.

I'd always loved playing video games, ever since that first used, 2nd generation Atari my mom's friend brought home one day. I've played every Nintendo system, Xbox and Playstation since. Instead of loading an actual game that night, I decided to log into a virtual world called Playstation Home. It no longer exists, but it was a place that you could design a character (avatar) that somewhat resembled yourself, or you could be something completely different, like a dragon or a giant ice cream. You could walk around various places in Playstation Home. You'd look at the other players and could see what they were talking about by reading the speech bubbles above their heads. You could interact with anyone, or no one. It was a great concept, but many people took things too far and were bullies, perverts or cyber-stalkers of sorts. Because if this, I'd walk around my favorite places just long enough to see if there were more items (like clothing) to be earned, but rarely spoke with anyone.

After making my rounds, grabbing the new clothes, accessories and perks, I went to the virtual casino. I'd grab my free casino tokens for the day, play some super cheap slots and just see how long the casino money would last. I was checking out the various slots machines trying to decide which machines were the cheapest, with the highest payout potential, when I was approached by 2 avatars (other players). The avatar with sunglasses, a sleeveless shirt and big muscles spoke first. "Hello, how are you?" Well, I trust basically no one, and online people even less, so I was very leary when I cautiously answered, "fine, and you?". You see, I always give people a chance and never jump to conclusions, but I have learned my lesson the hard way that people are not always what/who they say they are. After cautious chatting, it turned out the guy and girl who were talking to me were recruiting people to join an anti-cyber-bullying (and bullying in general) club on PS Home. I was intrigued.

I learned that every member had been bullied at some point. The older members acted as mentors and a place for younger members to vent frustrations, ask advice and hang out with people who would not judge then, and who would stand up for them when needed. The group often walked around PS Home areas, like the mall or park, and watched for people being bullied. As a group, we'd all go, stand up for whoever was being picked on, and in a variety of ways we'd run off any bully. The club sounded wonderful.

As a mother of 2 children growing up in a very clique-ish town, and a former bullied child, I wanted to be a part of this club. I joined and quickly made friends with the members. There are several that I am still friends with (online) today, nearly 5 years later.

I learned that the founder of our club was 40. I was surprised thinking at 35, I would surely be the oldest member. Months go by, and I fell in love with the founder of the club before I had even seen a picture of him. I was in serious denial though. I didn't want to be in love. Love hurt. Love meant trusting, and trusting meant being vulnerable. Loving and trusting had caused a hurt deeper than anything else I had been through, and let me tell you, I have been through more than most.

Well, my denial ended one night. It seemed that one of our members had taken their own life. It seemed our group had failed her. The founder, Mark was crushed and angry with himself. I was trying to let him vent and grieve, when it popped out of my mouth before I knew what was happening. I said, "but I love you, and I don't want to see you hurting." Oh my God, did that just come out of my mouth? It had. Then it sank in. I actually HAD fallen for this British man, who lived in Canada and I had only seen one picture of. What was wrong with me? That's crazy! I felt happy that I finally  realized how I felt, and at the same time, I felt I was being an emotional idiot again,and would end up hurt, crying and kicking myself yet again.

I eventually decided to go to Canada. I had to meet this man who had caused me to have hope in love and faith in people again. Some people thought I was crazy, others thought it was romantic but everyone who knew me, knew there was no sense in trying to talk me out of it. When I set my mind to something, I don't change my mind easily. Of course, this is because I don't take decisions lightly in the first place. I weigh options, do research and seek out opinions.

I was granted a 3 month visitor's visa at customs in Calgary, Alberta at the international Airport. I remember the butterflies as I finally walked out of the gate and saw Mark. I think my face nearly split from how big I must've smiled. We hugged, had our first kiss and laughed and stared at each other for the next several hours. On the 3 hour ride from the airport, I kept sneaking peeks at him whole he drove.

I was happy, but still cautious. I had been fooled by people saying they had good intentions too many times in my past not to prepare myself for the worst. It turned out, he was everything he said he was. He HAD told me the good, the bad, and the ugly. That's how I am. I thought no one else did that. A little over a year later, I no longer drank everyday (more like 2 to 3 times a year), I hadn't touched or wanted drugs at all, didn't need my Prozac or anxiety Meds anymore, and was married to a wonderful man. Something neither of us thought we'd ever do again!

We've now been married for over 3 years. To this day, I still pinch myself to make sure it's not a dream. I'm a very happy woman these days. We've turned into each other's best friend. We lean on each other when we need it, we support each other, encourage and even push each other if needed. We may not have a lot of money, but it's perfect to me. Life was going along just fine until October of 2016.

I learned I was going to be forced to speak with someone who I had cut out of my life several times. They were intimidating, controlling, highly manipulative and frankly, scary on some levels. I started having panic attacks again. I hadn't had any since meeting my husband, I had even stopped waking myself up screaming. I stopped needing the Prozac and other meds I had been on for 12 years. Suddenly, it was all back. The panic attacks, the anxiety, the general uneasiness. Over the next 14 months, my health started going downhill.

It began with anxiety and waking up screaming.  Shortly after, I started losing my hair. I blew it off and attributed the hair loss to stress of dealing with the person from my past. I ended up losing at least half my hair. Next, weight loss. I went from 160 lbs to 115 in one year. I also decided it was stress combined with being busy in and out of the house. 
I eat purposefully high calorie meals, eat high calorie candy, and stuff my face right before sleep in an attempt to gain weight (or at least not lose any more). At 5'9", I do not look healthy. I decided to go to a doctor.

**Because my Permanent Resident application has not been finalized yet, I do not have health insurance in Canada. That's fine, I am not here to get anything for free. I'm here because I love my husband more than any words that I know, can describe.

So, I paid for my doctor visit and was preparing to pay for lab work to test my thyroid, per Docs orders, but I never did get that bloodwork done. It's not my number one priority anymore. You see, in October of 2017, as I was preparing for bed, I put my arm up and behind my head, and did a quick self exam of my breasts. This is something I would do every few months since high-school. You see, breast issues, including cancer, run in both sides of my family. I was babbling away at my husband while I absentmindedly felt around. But, I stopped talking. I felt something this time. I was focused now. Was it really there? Was it as different as it felt like? Where exactly was it? How big? Was this really happening? It WAS there. It DID feel completely unlike anything else in my body. It was about the size of a pea, hard as a rock and close to my rib cage. There was no denying it. It was there, and it was more than lumpy boobs. I needed to see the doc as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, because of 'circumstance' {details omitted to protect privacy of others}, I couldn't get in until November. I went in, and the doc seemed to think it was probably a cyst because of how the lump moved under the skin. Due to family history, he scheduled an ultrasound and mammogram to be in the safe side. Because of ol' 'Circumstance' again, the appointment had to be rescheduled twice. 'Circumstance' was more worried about thier POTENTIAL needs, than any issue anyone else had. I was backed into a corner. If I wanted the money to pay for my tests, I had to meet their demands first. I reluctantly did what they asked. (I will be looking into the legal side of this issue, don't worry).

In the meantime, I start peeing blood. Like not orange, bud undeniable blood. Really red, and once cloudy  dark brown. I should have gone to the hospital then, but was between a rock and a hard place. Instead, I drink a ton of fluids and hope.

I finally get he ultrasound and mammogram in mid December. As they are finishing up, I'm told the results will be given to my doctor on 2 or 3 days, and the doctor would contact me. All I needed to do was go pay, and wait. I had another appointment in town on a couple hours, but it was a fun one. I was I voted to look at a diamond collection!

While I was looking at all of the shiny pretties, my phone rang. I ignored it. Then it rang again. The calls were from my doctor's office. I couldn't imagine what they wanted, because my results weren't due for a couple days. I called them back out of curiosity.

I was told the radiologist from my earlier appointment had looked at my mammogram and ultrasound, and was very concerned. They ordered a biopsy. I was going to receive a call from the hospital telling me when my appointment will be.

I was so frazzled, that I forgot my wedding rings that were being cleaned. That phone call put me in such a daze, I didn't even realize my rings were gone for 3 more days! There was a circle of thoughts running through my head. Things like: I'm only 40. I haven't even met my new granddaughter. What if it is cancer. How much is this biopsy going to cost. What if it is cancer? What if I need Chemo or radiation? What if there's surgery and they remove a breast?whst will any of that cost? What about a prosthetic or reconstruction? Do I stay in Canada, with my husband for emotional support and figure out funding, or do I go back to the States, get on low income Healthcare and possibly never see my husband again--or best case, not see him for a minimum of 4 years.

You see, in Canada, it does not matter if you're married or not. You still have to apply for permanent residency or citizenship in order to have government funded Healthcare. While you're working on your application(s), you're allowed to stay after your visa has expired (I renewed mine a couple times, but bad advice from a lawyer is why it's expired now), BUT if you let it expire, and you leave the country, you're not allowed back in BECAUSE you let it expire (shame shame). It's stupid and silly, but it is what it is. Feel free to Google it for yourself.

Now for the part that is hardest for me. The 'Circumstance' has informed me that I will not see another penny of MY money that is (for now) unaccessible to me, except for though this 'Circumstance', until I do something else they've demanded.

This newest demand was not told to me until the last possible minute. The 'Circumstance' told me they did not care about my problems, they only cared about themselves. I do have evidence of this conversation, by the way. Anyway, I had hoped I could trust the 'Circumstance' would do what was right, but here I am. Asking people for help. If you know me even a little, you know I'd rather have teeth pulled with no anesthesia by a blind gorilla.

My biopsy is scheduled for January 3rd at 3pm. They got me in for the first day the Breast Health department is open in 2018. They seem in a rush to do this. I'm glad, but it leaves little time to find money or make a plan.

The cost of the biopsy is $865.00 CA plus tax, I assume. Also, Gofundme charges $0.30 per donation AND an additional 2.9% over all. So, at this point, I am asking for help raising this money. Any amount helps. Even a dollar. Gofundme does get a small amount from the donations, so between guesstimating taxes and gofundme's portion, I'm trying to raise $1500.00 by 3pm on January 3rd. That should cover the test, the taxes and Gofundme's fees.

If I can't meet the deadline, I still have to raise the money. They don't bill. I have to pay the day I have the procedure. I'm selling my clothing and anything I have of value. I can't work yet, and my husband onky makes enough to cover the bills. We're still playing catchup from last winter when it seemed every costly thing that could go wrong, did (dog had cancer, heat went out 2x, washer went out, etc).

I'm asking for you to please help me. Help me get this done as soon as possible. Early detection is key, and I've had so many delays already. I hope for the best, but am prepared for bad news. The worst part though, is the not knowing. I can't relax or prepare until I know what this is for sure.

Even if you cannot help financially, you can help by sharing a link to this page with everyone you know. I cannot possibly pay all of you back, but I do not like owing anyone, so in return for your help, I will be writing a recipe book containing my favorite recipes and recipes of my own creation. I'm told I'm a good cook, so I hope thise people aren't fill of crap. Lol. I'll email a printable copybto everyone who helps. If you donate or simply share a link to this page, make sure you email me at [email redacted] or message me on Facebook. I'll make sure you get your copy.

Thanks you for your thoughts, prayers and your kindness. I wish you happiness and health in 2018. Happy new year and Bless you all!