Hi,

I’m Margo and this is my story. At age 35, I left my native New Hampshire in 1992 and moved to California to start a new life. I was met by my boyfriend, Marc, the love of my life. During the 32 years I spent living with him, he showed me his native CA. We went everywhere together. We were very happy.

In 2015, tragedy struck when Lupus Transverse Myelitis attacked my spine, leaving me paralyzed from the trunk down with loss of bowel and bladder control. My medical condition presented itself as “unique.” It took a team of doctors to diagnose what was wrong with me. I have not regained my ability to walk. In addition, I had emergency surgery for a perforated colon that left me with a colostomy. Shortly after that a urologist performed a urostomy on the other side of my abdomen to allow urine to drain from my bladder because the Foley catheter tube I had been wearing created a sore on my urethra and had to be removed.

As an active 58-year-old who was accustomed to walking 6 to 18 miles a week for exercise, this was something that caused me great sadness. Marc never abandoned me. He sat for hours at a time during the many hospital visits I had related to my diagnosis. However, Marc was very private about his own health issues. Unlike me, he did not share his doctor visit diagnoses.

Due to my disability, Marc found a wheelchair accessible apartment in National City, close to the Navy Base where he worked. Adjusting to living as a paraplegic in a wheelchair, I learned to adapt as best I could. I was told by my rheumatologist that it takes years for the myelin sheath that coats your nerve fibers to regenerate, and to toughen up for the long haul so I did, mentally. But nothing could prepare me for what was going to happen later.

Marc was an early riser. He would get up at 3:00 a.m., shower, make coffee, watch the news, get dressed and leave for work at 5:00 a.m. sharp to avoid traffic. On the morning of Friday, August 23, 2024, everything seemed normal. However, at 5:00 a.m. when he didn’t leave as usual, I asked him if he was going to work, and he said yes. I asked him if he was going to see his doctor, and he said no. I asked him if he felt all right, and he replied yes. Around 5:40 a.m. from the kitchen/living room area, I heard what sounded like someone falling off a chair. I was lying in the bedroom and called his name. No answer. I heard him gasp. I immediately called 911. Things got worse. My wheelchair wasn’t accessible at the time. It was in the living room, and I was unable to reach it. The paramedics had to break down the door. I could hear their muted voices talking “Anything yet?” as they tried to revive him. The police, who followed, wouldn’t let me get into my wheelchair. They said I would only get in the way and to let the emergency crew do their job. The ambulance took him to a local hospital where, in addition to the revival efforts of the paramedics who were the first responders at our apartment, the ER doctor tried to revive him for another 46 minutes. When he couldn’t get a pulse, the ER doctor had to pronounce him dead. I was devastated. The police wouldn’t leave our apartment until someone came to stay with me, so I called my close friend, Monica. I couldn’t stop crying. I notified Marc’s immediate family.

Five days later, on August 28, three members of his immediate family showed up at our apartment unannounced and returned the next day with a U-haul. They packed up everything that they thought was his and left. They did not try to console me in any way. Regarding all the bills they had asked me about earlier, they said that those could all go in the “low priority” pile. Excuse me? The $2715/month rent, $300 utilities, TV, Internet, phone? I was advised to keep track of the bills to know what I needed for my future care. I was astonished that when I reached out to them, they offered me no support whatsoever. I realized then that I’m a 67-year-old paraplegic with complex medical issues who is now totally alone. My immediate family is unable to help me due to financial and health constraints. As far as I know, Marc didn't have a Will, and upon his death, no provisions were left for me.

I spoke with various social workers. I was told that on Social Security Income I could not afford to live in CA. The consensus I got is that I could 1) go a hospital and have their case worker place me into a nursing home, which I will NEVER do because it would kill me to live in an institutional environment. 2) rent a room from $700-$1500 (just a room, nothing else!), 3) move to an affordable state. I believe the only option for me is to move to a more affordable state (other than CA where it is too expensive to live), but I don’t have the resources.

Friends and family members suggested that I raise the money I need to relocate to an affordable place through GO FUND ME. I am praying and hoping to raise $15,000 to relocate. I appreciate the time and effort you will spend reading my story. To those who donate,

THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART!