GoFundMe Fundraiser 2019
Posted on Facebook 2019
To be quick and to the point I am in need of assistance, funds for medical bills, medical supplies, transportation to and from doctors visit, psychical therapy, trauma therapy, some prescriptions that aren't covered, and more. I have a nine year old who has needs as well. I pray that this fundraiser will reach what is needed.
PLEASE #SHARE my #STORY
I suppose I’ve waited long enough to not say anything. I wanted to wait for some time so my close family/friends had a chance to take it all in. If y’all know me well enough you'd be aware that I am not fond of discussing how I feel. I’m known to have a thick, stubborn, damned-if-you’ll-get-past-me wall all over. If you know me you'd also be aware of how I got to be so guarded. Now I’m about to blurt out all kinds of juicy or not-so great gossip. Ready gossipers because this will be an interesting feed. Ya’ll know who you are.
Seriously though #Facebook isn’t the best place to dump some of my garbage but you know I just don’t feel like hiding anymore. Even better I’m too damn lazy and not sociable. I don’t want to sit down and chitchat, repeating myself about what the hell is going on. I will just say it and leave it here.
I may be a little uneasy, nervous and frightened of what you will say, what you think about me. I always worried myself to death wondering what people say even though I say it doesn’t bother me. I think we all do, my opinion. Surprisingly I have very low self-esteem yet I’m act quite confident. I was never proud. I know at times I've acted like a damn fool with my head up my ass and completely unbearable to be around. Now, I don’t want to waste time giving a rat’s ass.
My time is limited. So...
In January I felt ill, sluggish, and not myself. I wasn’t interested in going anywhere other than dropping off and picking up my son from school, an occasional #CubScout meeting, a grocery store because we do have to eat or else that would be neglect. I wanted to lock myself in a closet, hide under pillows and ignore everyone even my loved ones. Saying I’m “fine” when I’m barely hanging on.
I sat in my house, curtains drawn, with the television low enough so if someone came by they might think I’m not home. I wouldn’t answer the door for anyone. Most of the time I was asleep or pretended to be while my son was at school. I would grab a blanket, pull it over my head then wait until it was time to do my parental duties with love. I wasn’t eating, I didn’t want too. I wouldn’t sleep at all; a vicious cycle with repeated behavior and poor decisions making.
For many, many years I was hiding the fact that I was sick, very sick. I began barfing (not purposefully) with diarrhea, developing a super sensitive gag reflex; GERD and I couldn’t keep water down. There was a quick break every now and then. That lasted for a couple days where I’d try to get some food down like crackers and peanut butter, applesauce, that MiO Vitamin liquid water enhancer and some EmergenC to stay alive. I’d go back to barfing, diarrhea, drinking and not eating over and over again.
I went to the ER a handful of times and each time I was examined head to toe. No major health concerns were presented. The nurses would proceed by giving me an IV with fluids; I was always low in potassium and magnesium. I’d get home and for some damn reason I went back to my couch to do the same madness over and over again; barf, diarrhea, drink, don’t eat, don’t sleep, repeat. Insanity.
Deep down inside I wanted someone to bust down the door and yank my ass out of that funky funk. Take a long hot shower, have the urge to eat, go outside and soak up the sun. I want to be normal. I feel like I’m not then again who’s to say what normal really is? Maybe normal in the sense of work 9-5, go home, make dinner, clean up, bed and repeat. Your standardized 1950’s family you see on a biscuit commercial. Something like that, hopefully you get my drift. I wanted to talk to someone but then again I didn't. I wanted to be alone but have company.
I did manage to keep my super mommy powers going even though I didn’t feel like it sometimes. I love my son unconditionally, I love being his mom, and I do my best and always have. I enjoy "cuddle-wuddling" with him, preparing our meals together and I’m constantly making sure he is happy and receiving all that he needs even with absolutely no energy left in my body. After school I would hang out with my son and I would laugh and giggle, play a board game, watch #WheelofFortune, eat dinner, get ready for bed, say our prayers and wish for sweet dreams. It’s seems like everything going smoothly and I’m all right.
I’m a 36-year-old mom, single parent, who’s had more than your average fifteen minutes of fame. I’ve been to the top and I’ve been at the bottom. All I have to show for it is some videos (just 2 videos, ha-ha) on #YouTube with me F***ING cursing back at @GordonRamsay. I kicked some steak’s ass, twice mind you. I won some challenges, was on top then the bottom; hated to leave especially on a dish I prepare all the time-I mean come on! Ha. I believe it was time for me to go. I really missed my son and was homesick to see him. Remember he was just kidnapped by his father as couple of months ago. It was time. I had been in California for almost three months for the show. My kiddo was having a blast at my grandma’s house aka NiNi while I was on the show. I want to think I gave @GordonRamsay a run for his money. @Masterchef TOP finalist on Season 2 #MasterChefonFOX.
I was too exhausted to be tired if you know what I mean. I would say that I wasn’t super depressed but to be honest I was. I am so stressed out, maybe lonely in one-way or another.
Somewhere along the safe road I had been on I started to veer off course and I ended up on a real shitty, bumpy road. Going along conjuring up my nasty past and my harsh seasons. I was drinking a little too much than I should, I wasn’t getting enough rest. Having insomnia doesn’t help either. I stopped eating. I lost my appetite. Some days and nights I didn’t eat at all. That would become my new, old routine.
Time passes and I pray.
February rolls on by until about the 28th when I woke one day coming out of a thick, dense foggy mess I realize what’s been going on around me. I found out that I’ve been semi-unconscious for the majority of the time, at least two weeks in ICU. I had become a new patient in the hospital and was admitted a little over a month ago. I was absolutely unaware that I had stayed so long, what great news to hear when you wake up (I’m being sarcastic). “Hey you, your life just did a one-eighty, flipped all sorts of way and hope you can figure it out.” Thanks.
FINALLY I will share with you the GIANT curveball and what the doctors told me at the end of February 2019.
“I have SIX months to a year to live.”
Diagnosis: “End-stage-liver-disease, a Cirrhotic Liver aka Liver Cirrhosis”
It’s serious, a serious blow to my head.”
***More details at the end***
I was told if I wanted any chance to live a couple months longer I must stop what I was doing to myself immediately. I had to be told this because I can’t remember anything. It’s like my memory was wiped clean from the mid of January to the now, present. My brain isn’t quite working on all cylinders, not quite firing right.
Doesn’t help that I was given Fentanyl and Morphine every two hours to “comfort me,” the doctors said. A small buffer for when I die, to pass over without pain. Doctors are waiting to “call time” on my almost corpse. At least I would have no more chronic pain; the pain will be all gone.
Flabbergasted is an understatement, shocked, not sure what to think when I saw my daddy’s face and voice. I live about 20-22 hours North of the panhandle of Florida. My daddy, Jeff, drove straight up from #Sopchoppy without stopping. My sister Melissa (in Hawaii) and Grandma Mary (in Texas) came as soon as they heard.
Grandma has been close by through thick and thin with Lincoln and myself. My son and friend Jonathan were also by my side. These are people, relatives, who haven't been in mine over my son’s life for so long, in at least half a decade or more.
All are waiting to hear the unwanted news.
They were all there, trying to help me in their own way, watching me slowly deteriorate and decompose. I felt embarrassed. I still do. This truly upsets me and makes me feel absolutely stupid.
What happened to me?
I can’t believe that I am ’literally' be dying.
I’m so unaware of what was happening to me, with my eyes closed, resting peacefully. I vaguely remember seeing my loved ones just blurry bodies and faces. At the end of my hospital bed I recognized people’s voices and had a few glimpses of reality. Inkling
Again all of this saddens me.
In my hospital room sometime I can remember the excitement when I finally had something to eat which was a relief to all because it had been so long since I had eaten and without throwing it all back up. Like I said I couldn't even keep water down let alone food.
I apparently requested a ginormous chicken sandwich with loads of cheddar cheese, sautéed onions, mayonnaise, mixed greens, mushrooms, tomatoes, topped with fried onion rings with smoky BBQ sauce and spicy honey mustard. That probably gave me ascites in it’s own but it was damn good. Not bad for my last meal I thought. I don't believe I kept it down for very long plus the Lactulose I was taking definitely assisted with natures business.
Strange to think about the days where I didn't have any memory. I truly am drawing a blank. I am trying my hardest to, believe me. Nada. I am not even consciously aware that I am dying. I imagine if I had died. I didn’t get to express my feelings the way I should have. I would do anything to make sure my son and loved ones knew how much I cared for them.
I didn’t even have a chance to say anything, I didn't have the chance to ask for forgiveness to the people I've hurt or disrespected. I didn’t have a voice. I didn’t even have time to start a bucket list or get the chance to finish one. I lay there going in and out of consciousness, absolutely clueless.
What happened to me? I cannot believe what is going on right now. How could I be I’m dying?
One day I thought I was doing well, felt fine, healthy and all of a sudden, seemed like the next day my world flipped upside down and death was waiting nearby. The specialist(s) said I am need of a liver transplant so they put me on the liver transplant list. I am pretty high up on the list. I never wanted to BE on ‘A’ list to begin with. If I don’t change my behavioral patterns and my way of life I will have NO chance of surviving.
My acute hepatitis panels are negative, which is good, no Hepatitis. I had ascites and have Hepatic #Encephalopathy. I have a well distended and bloated stomach, I have a well-distended and bloated abdomen with an enlarged gallbladder and a very enlarged spleen known as #Splenomegaly. My spleen measures 15.7 cm, max is 20cm. My spleen can easily rupture along with everything else because my whole body seems to be one, big, fat, monstrous figure.
My spleen worries me. I can’t get hi, squeezed too hard or fall at all because I could easily rupture them. So…
This means I can’t do shit, not any more. No more kayaking, tubing, can’t really go shopping; if only, I hardly shop for myself.
I had three extremely painful #Ascites #Paracentesis’ removing a little more than 30L of fluid from my abdomen that is a high amount of fluids. With a painful prink and a shot of Lidocaine followed by a larger needle and catheter a tube is inserted in my lower abdomen (say your bikini line) they suck the ascites “fluid” out. I recall that procedure because I was awake, wide-awake with out any relief. The reasoning was because if I’m all drugged up and on anesthesia I won’t be able to feel everything. When I’m in more pain than I already am, you’ll know the difference, I can tell the surgeon(s) right before they clip my intestines. Then you can sit there with a tube hanging out of your abdomen and watch the fluid fill up three huge colanders. OUCH! OUCH! OUCH!
The first time ascites paracentesis was performed I was scared to all get out. I didn’t even know what all that means. It hurt like hell though. After the third ascites paracentesis I wanted to punch the living turd out of the doc. I didn't of course but I suppose I am ready for when I will need it again. They said I would probably need to come back and repeat because I will more than likely have ascites again. I have to keep an eye on my girth, measurement around your belly, and half inch below belly button.
What would feel worse? Murmuring impolite words.
I am now in Hospice care, Home care, Palliative care that provides me with a Social worker, a RN (Registered Nurse), a Social worker, Physical therapy, Occupational therapy all come to the house twice a week to see how well I’m recovering. They check my vitals, my movement and strength. Presently the constant home visits have decreased to once a month each because I am stabilizing some.
I have multiple doctor visits, tests and lots of blood drawn. My veins are so worn out and busted. It’s almost impossible to draw any blood out of me. Every time they draw blood I want to scream so loud; it just hurts now. I had jaundice for a few months, completely unnoticed, unaware to me until I looked at a mirror in a public restroom of a courthouse. Thankfully the jaundice has gone away, for now.
***I will tell you more about what happened when I found out I had jaundice, you’ll shake your head for sure saying “What the…? ***
I have blurred vision that varies day to day. I can't bend down and I cannot kneel at all. I simply am unable to. My knees are intolerable and my joints are so stiff. I am so unbalanced and I’m known to fall, big fall risk. Dizziness brings nausea and nausea means, you guessed it, more barfing, more falls which means more medication and so forth and so on.
I have to have assistance with almost anything and everything. I have assistance with bathing, getting in and out of the bath even with a bath seat. I need someone to prepare my meals, do laundry, clean, and help with all the kiddos. I need someone to drive me to my appointment. Friends help by carpooling for all kind of sports like baseball, softball and soccer. Lincoln is still very well taken care of in all this mess. Thank the Lord.
Someone needs to be with me at the house full-time, keeping an eye on me hoping I don’t fall, choke I can’t go to the bathroom by myself because my body physically won’t let me. I have become too weak. I can hardly type or write my name. I’m not as active I was before of course and I can hardly walk. I don’t really invite people over become very sick easily, which is detrimental to my life, possible fatality with any kind of infection, hospital stay, flying or fall. Any accident could lead to death. My organs could rupture at any given time.
I have intense migraines, horrid night terrors, and hot, cold flashes. My immune system is all jacked up. I must wear a mask for my safety everywhere I go and sometimes around the house so I don’t become ill. If I hear someone sneeze or cough nearby I’m outta sight. No siree Bob!
I can't really cook anymore (big bummer) because I tremble and I don’t want to chop my fingers off plus it requires a lot of standing. I have violent, random twitches that make me involuntarily convulse and shake so badly. It’s really hard for me to pick up my lap computer, believe it or not. I can't stand or sit for long for it hurts and I get so out of breath. I have difficulty trying to put my clothes on or pull my hair up.
I’ve had a colonoscopy, endoscopies, a handful of ultrasounds, nerve damage tests, nerve damage tests, a couple of CT scans and a MRI. My pain never goes away both mentally and physically.
Funds are needed not just for medical assistance but for transportation to and from any visits. I must have someone drive me to the nearest Mayo Clinic, if I am accepted as their patient. I am hoping to rent a RV because I will need the facilities close by like the restroom, and having a little space to be able to lie down, the ride would be a little more comfortable. It's difficult to ride in anything really, there’s all that bouncing around, shaking my organs, nausea. Of course the transportation includes gas, lodging, and food (following my strict low sodium diet).
The donations will bring some ease to my mind and my families. The generous funds I would like to set aside some money for my son's education. I hope to have enough funds to pay off the bill(s), hospital visit(s) and my funeral costs when I pass away. I would be disappointed in myself if my son had to watch me slip away then turn around a deal with any fees, collections and bills. I don't want to experience anything like that.
I’ve always been on my own it’s seems. I was always independent to say the least. Since my mom’s suicide at age fifteen, my whole life changed in an instant. Talk about losing my mom. She happened to be a substitute teacher at my #Wakulla high school. Everyone pretty much had her at some point as a teacher. My mom would wear her bright, neon Wranglers (size 0-2, 2 being large) tight as all get out. She had almost every color and embarrassing to me; but these days I'd wear them. This made everything even more difficult for me because I didn't know what to say or how to act. I was frozen; still am.
No tears never show your tears or cry, it shows, people can't see you have any emotions. It shows weakness and you're not weak. To this day I haven't even started to grieve like someone should nor have I found any trauma therapy. With any traumatic event or abuse that I endured I tried my hardest not to show emotions, not to cry.
Don't wallow in your tears. I was even told to "get over it" right after the trauma occurred. I am well guarded, shielded, confrontational, blunt, got in physical fights and lost any desire to be happy or let someone know I cared about school wasn't easy for me. I’m also an Aries.
High school wasn’t easy for me. So many rumors and lies about what I did or didn't do in school. I was ugly and skinny, very intelligent and blunt. I rarely had a filter. In my younger years I was a cheerleader and even a Captain, hands up for the Yellow Jackets and the Ninjas (recalling our name from the elementary. I’ve had a poem published, nationally and I won an award for it. I was a little ecstatic.
I played soccer until I got kicked off the varsity for too many red cards, my vulgar language and maybe a few slide tackles that were questionable. I was allowed back on the following year but on junior varsity. I was very ashamed of myself. Man, the belittling, the stares, the side comments weren’t helpful or encouraging.
Picture yourself with your team, girls/guys you’ve been playing is practicing beside you, rides the same game bus as you do, in the same place at the same time as you but I couldn’t play with my team, Instead you’re with the younger, less advanced team. That stung. Thanks.
I played the percussion in the Marching Band and a fast as hell runner in Cross Country along with Track and Field. In fact, I was asked if I wanted to train for the Olympics by my P.E. coach Mrs. Kennedy, a strict but caring tall black lady. I really liked her because she pushed me. She tried to get me to see my own potential.
I was in the top of the class with computers and a member of FBLA (Future Business Leaders of America). I played classic piano for nearly ten years by Mrs. Michelle Snow. I loved #Yanni, lol. My liked him as well but not for his talent. Snow would constantly tell me “If I would only practice…” Mrs. Snow was also on my case, potential, potential. Her studio was across from the high school were we all attended I was very talented.
I studied with ease criminal justice and loved anything Forensics. I was obsessed with criminal shows like #TheForensicsFiles, Doctor G. Medical Examiner, #MariskaHargitay and #ChristopherMeloni in #LawandOrderSVU, #MurderSheWrote etcetera.
I excelled in anything computer related.
I was given a full scholarship to #DeVryUniversity. The same two recruiters came three separate times, gave three different attempts, who drove from Orlando to #Sopchoppy for a signature didn’t pan out. The only ting stopping my enrollment is they couldn’t get parental permission. Mom was dead so not pointing fingers but.
That was painful and the one thing I really wanted to do at that time. I would have had my masters in CIS (computer information systems) and by now a great career. Instead of moving from one place to the next and not keeping steady jobs. I needed to be challenged.
I dreamed of becoming an Architect, Concert Pianist, and an Artist slash Embalmer, focusing on Sniper shooting and always kind have wanted to join the SWAT team. It must have been the military brat in me.
I don't think I was ever afraid of the dead. I was frightened of people.
I don’t think I’ve ever shown much emotion. I hold everything inside, bottled up like a soda cans just waiting to explode. It’s happened a few times and it wasn’t pretty. It ended up being a mess that eventually I had to clean up.
I know how it feels to lose your mom, a parent, a guardian, the he following year in the same monthly Ma-maw (Grandma's mom on the maternal side). Let's say January isn't a good month for us even you'd think, "Hooray" a new start, new beginnings, a new year but it's quite the opposite. I’m not fond of the month January and for a damn good reason.
Tragedy occurred, a powerful trauma that was not foreseen by any. This undisputable act of selfishness you can’t shake off,
She committed suicide January 16th, 1999 at the age of 34 years old.
I was 15 years old.
She was a single mom of four children. She was going back to College studying nursing. My world, my any inkling of happiness, trust, faith, honor, everything ended. I still have yet to process any grief. I didn’t cry at her funeral either I think I was complete shock.
#METOO I am a survivor of horrible acts, victim to human/drug/labor trafficking, domestic violence, sexual abuse, mental and physical abuse, discrimination, trauma related suicide, rape, PTSD, and the list goes on but I am a survivor.
The underlining issue can’t be solved overnight and possibly not at all. This is extremely difficult for me to understand and to share. There are certain people who will continue to break me down by their jealousy and hate. They’re more concerned with what tissue paper I wipe my ass with than their own children. Certain person(s) will try their hardest to ruin my life, have my son taken away but I have the Lord, my savior, in my corner.
I have a few hundred in my bank account for our necessities. One example of a bill I need to pay soon is for a recent hospital stay(s) $7500, another is $942 and another for about $1500-$1700. They keep racking up, little by little or some are a huge slap in my face bill. I didn’t think I would ever be writing about any of this or telling all of you, world, so much private feelings, and stuff.
I am asking for prayers for my son, for my family, for my friends, for anyone with liver disease.
Life isn’t fair but it’s never too late to make the best of what’s left of it and enjoy life as much as you can. Surround yourself with good people, people who care, people who make you feel awesome. Absorb every second with your children even the not-so-good ones.
For God has a plan for me, for all of us, to prosper not to harm us. He has plans to give me hope and a future, Jeremiah 29:11.
Please if you can help me fight this deadly, silent disease, my cirrhosis of the liver. I understand some people simply can’t, it’s okay. There are mounds of hospital bills I can't afford to pay. I don't have the means for all of this nonsense. Insurance covers but only some. It doesn't help when you're signed up under the wrong benefits. Some how I haven't had full adult medical just women's health insurance, ARGH. I can’t f*cking believe this mess! I am in the process of fixing it and signing up under the correct insurance. Of course it’ll probably take another two years until I'm covered. Babysitters (of course they’re not free) and they are needed when I have any appointments if my full-time caregiver isn’t available.
I’m praying, praying for all of us. I still put on a smiley face for my favorite human in the whole world, my kiddo, my son.
Say what @EllenDeGenerous would say,
"BE Kind to One Another"
Thank you #thank you.
Stay courteous, generous and be mindful to all.
Thank you for taking the time to read all my gibberish.
May God bless you.
****From the Top****
I was told I have 6 months to 1 year to live and they weren't joking and I am serious. It hasn't been quite 6 months yet but it's looking like I will surpass it. That doesn't mean I can do whatever I want. This means that what I have changed in my lifestyle, which is everything, is helping. Plus all the prayers and kind words are so uplifting, helps me keep truckin. So you're going to have to deal with me sticking around a little longer, ha. I understand if I confused anyone about everything that’s happened.
I know that I am sharing some pretty deep subjects and my main focus is to ask for funds for my recent, shocking, unfathomable bad news. I guess I wanted to get rid of a few baggages before I pass away. Just saying that makes me feel ___________. Blank.
rTo put the focus back on my fundraiser I want to thank you all who have been there for me no matter what, even if we didn’t get along in the past. That’s saying something.
So thank you.
Please donate and please share.