He Went Ahead

ahead

My friends and I used to break into old, run-down places and explore. This was back before people were videotaping their own explorations and getting ad-revenue from their YouTube channels. Back before cell phones, even. We’d go wherever we wanted without much concern for the consequences if we were caught. All of us were still under 18 and Kim’s mom was a police officer, so even if we did get in a little trouble, we were fairly confident it’d be taken care of.

Michael was the one who usually made the decisions about where we should go. He suggested we check out an abandoned institution about an hour out of town. A few weeks earlier, after he got out of work, he told me he made a quick trip over there just to see if he could get in. Once he did, he only spent a couple minutes walking around before he got the creeps. Still, he knew it was exactly the type of place we’d always talked about wanting to explore. Continue reading “He Went Ahead”

Recycling

When Danielle was growing up, Ron and I knew she was plagued by depression. It was the same demon both my husband and I had to face daily, so we had no trouble recognizing the signs. As her condition worsened, she wouldn’t bother hiding the cuts on her arms. Once she graduated high school, we couldn’t force her to see a psychologist or get any type of positive intervention. She just sat in her room with the door closed and ate no more than five meals a week. If she ever went out, it was long after her father and I had gone to bed.

She’d been picked up by the police a number of times for trespassing in graveyards or standing on the rooftops of local businesses. She never stood close enough to the edge to make the police think it was a suicide attempt, though, so she wasn’t held for psychological observation. They chalked it up to her being a rebellious kid and sent her home. Continue reading “Recycling”

Elective Surgery

“Elective surgery.” It’s a term that makes people think of botox injections and liposuction. Maybe facelifts. Breast implants, too. Well, purely cosmetic breast implants; never the implants given to people who’ve endured cancer and mastectomy. “Elective surgery” is too pejorative a term to describe the procedures undergone by those who’ve suffered. It seems suffering is a requirement for the surgeries to avoid having a negative social stigma. That same suffering determines the insurance companies’ willingness to pay for the procedures, too. When you realize they’re the ones who determine who’s suffered, then you can see there’s a problem.

My husband’s name is Brian. From the moment he was capable of self-reflection, he knew he was a man. He had to keep this knowledge to himself. It took 20 torturous years before he could safely declare himself to be the person he knew he was. When we met in 2010, Brian was four years into hormone therapy. I fell in love with him during our first conversation. He was extremely open about his transition, but I worried he felt he needed to explain himself to me, which wasn’t the case. I got the impression he’d been hurt in the past. Continue reading “Elective Surgery”

The Wisdom of Moms

Baby was receiving his scheduled vaccine injection in his right thigh muscle ie intramuscular injection

January 3, 2016

My son will NOT – I repeat: WILL NOT be getting any more vaccines. I was ignorant about how bad they were for the first four years and I never told the doctors to leave him alone. Well, thank God he got lucky and seems fine, despite that. I got my eyes open now.  Are vaccines safe? Hell no. Sandra Barker’s child got poked with all those needles and shot through with nasty chemicals and guess what? Her poor little Eva ended up half retarded. A damn shame for Sandra and her little girl. Sorry big pharma, you can’t have my Thomas. No way in hell. And I’m going to tell the doctor that at his checkup tomorrow.

January 4, 2016

Doctors just make me sick. Funny, huh? Like it’s the opposite of what they say they’re gonna do. Thomas’ doctor is so rude and pushy. He has the nerve to think he knows what’s better for my son than I do. Me. His mother. The strong woman who gave birth to him. You know, because he went to some fancy college in New York and got a piece of paper saying he can look at sick children.

By the way, his name is Dr. Rav Mati and his practice is in Alfonse Creek, West Virginia. Don’t even think about going to him with your own boy or girl. All he’ll do is try to push vaccines on them and gets fresh when you tell him to prove the shots won’t make the kids sick. The man even said there’s a shot for chickenpox now. Chickenpox! Those pharma fat cats will take every dollar you’ve got. I guess they don’t think us parents were taught by our own moms about how to deal with chickenpox. A child has to catch it if they want to get strong! I think Earl has a point when he said those companies are trying to make kids grow up weak so they’ll vote liberal. There’s no other explanation I can think of. I married a smart man.


January 7th, 2016

As luck would have it, Sandra Barker’s poor retarded girl got chickenpox at the special daycare she has to go to. When Sandra called me up, I was relieved. After dealing with that stupid Dr. Mati the other day, I’d started to worry Thomas wouldn’t get to be around other kids who had it if their parents had been duped into getting them vaccinated. The last thing I wanted was for Thomas to be weak. God forbid he ended up that way and Earl found out he was a homosexual. I’m not even going to think about that. No need to do that to myself.

Anyway, Sandra and I set up a playdate for Thomas and Sandra’s little Eva. We’ll go over tomorrow at lunchtime so I can be back to cook dinner for Earl in the afternoon.

January 8th, 2016

Thomas seemed to have fun with little Eva. It breaks my heart to see that little girl, though. She just doesn’t know what’s going on half the time. Thomas was a good boy, though, and was very gentle and shared his toys. Sandra suggested we let them share a spoon and bowl when they ate their lunch so he’d get a better chance of catching her chickenpox. So they shared their chicken soup and Sandra and I talked for a while. Thomas and I went home around 3:30. Perfect timing to get dinner started.

January 11th, 2016

Earl was grumpy this morning when he left for his business trip. He was hollering and complaining about one thing or another, but then he left and things were quiet again. I bet his job is more stressful than I know. Hell, this trip will keep him away from home for three weeks. I wish I told him I was sorry before he went, though. I always feel bad when I feel like I put him in one of his moods.

On a good note, Thomas started to get a fever and he said he was itchy. When I gave him his bath at night, I saw the little dots of chickenpox starting to show up. I called up Sandra to thank her and asked how Eva was doing. Sandra said Eva had it bad but no worse than her cousin Duane did a couple years ago. I got a little sad that Thomas would be so uncomfortable soon, but it was worth it in the long run. He’d be good and strong.

January 12th, 2016

It’s amazing how fast chickenpox shows up! Thomas went to bed with little pinprick dots and woke up with big blotches the size of pepperoni slices. He’s scratching them like crazy and I keep slapping his hands so he won’t cut himself with his fingernails. I can’t stop thinking about all the poor kids whose parents were so ignorant about how the world works that they listened to Dr. Mati and all the other doctors like him. All the doctors lining their pockets with big pharma money so they can donate it to the democrats and whoever else hates families. Well, they’ll see. It’s families like ours who get strong and survive.

January 13th, 2016

Thomas started getting blisters on his palms. I don’t think they’re from chickenpox, but the nice ladies on the homeschool forum I started visiting last year said it was probably just from his fever. Once his fever goes down, they’ll go away. And if they got any worse, it would just have to run its course. He’s young and he’ll heal up good enough.

As mean as this sounds, I’m a little glad the blisters seem to hurt because it stops Thomas from scratching. Didn’t stop him from complaining, though! Not one bit. But it’s okay. I can take it! This is mom territory – we live to deal with kids complaining.

January 14th, 2016

Thomas’ is COVERED with chickenpox. Even when I part his hair, I see them on his scalp. Some of the older ones started to get big whiteheads on them. The one on the tip of his nose looks so uncomfortable, the poor kid. I remember having pimples when I was a teenager. These pox are like five times bigger. Maybe later on tonight I’ll squeeze a few of them to help take some of the pressure off.

January 15th, 2016

In the bath last night, I popped about 20 of Thomas’ riper chickenpox. I squeezed and squeezed and that gunk just plopped down into the water. I had to mash it up with a wire brush before it would all get down the drain. Nasty nasty nasty! But still, it’s natural. So much more natural than whatever the doctor would’ve pumped into him.

The pox I squeezed dry just look like holes now. They’re pretty swollen but he said they don’t itch anymore. The holes are about as wide as a dime. I put Neosporin on them just so they wouldn’t get infected and I’m changing his bedsheets every night. I might be being a little overprotective, but hey, I’m a mom. It’s what moms do. Well, the good ones at least.

January 16th, 2016

I squeezed out more and more of those chickenpox last night. The ones I’d squeezed the night before didn’t fill up again, at least. Poor Thomas looks so ragged. It’s like he’s covered in little, swollen volcanos. At least this is running its course and it’ll be over in another few days.

I’m a tiny bit worried about the fever blisters on his hands and feet. My camera in my phone’s still busted, but I went online and found a picture that’s pretty similar. Obviously this person’s hand is much bigger than Thomas’, but the look is the same. True to what the homeschool ladies said, he was still running a fever. 102 on the nose. Once that goes down, his hands will heal up and he’ll be good as new.

January 17th, 2016

Thomas woke me up this morning! He hasn’t done that since he would cry and yell when he was a tiny baby. But he was standing next to my bed and saying that his body hurts. Well, I took one look at him and saw why. The poor boy’s chickenpox looked worse than any chickenpox I’d ever seen. I’ll admit it – I got pretty scared. His entire body – all his skin – was just filled up with holes. It looked like the remaining whiteheads had popped when he was asleep because he was all smeared with it.

I brought him into the bath and rinsed him off. The water seemed to help him feel a little better, so I let him soak in the tub while I sat next to him in a chair with my laptop. I asked online if chickenpox were supposed to get so bad. One of the homeschool ladies asked if he’d been vaccinated. I was super embarrassed when I told her he got all his shots up until this year because I didn’t know any better. I felt awful admitting that to these smart people. But they were so kind and understanding. Then I was told what I’d assumed but didn’t want to take for granted: his case of chickenpox is worse because of the vaccines he got as a baby. Something about mercury poisoning and his body using the chickenpox as an opportunity to cleanse the toxins from his body.

While Thomas splashed around and I talked to the ladies online, I felt a lot better. By this time next week, he’d be healing up like nothing had happened.

January 18th, 2016

Thomas looked just as bad this morning. He asked right away if he could take a bath, so we did what we did yesterday. I paid more attention to his skin this time. I don’t know exactly how to describe him. Maybe the inside of a wasp nest? He’s just so covered with holes that I can barely make out any skin that isn’t part of a crater, especially now that he’s in the water and his skin is swelling.

I’m just so mad at all the doctors and corporations who put those chemicals into Thomas when he was a baby. I’m mad at myself for listening to them. Like I was just following orders like some damn Nazi. Because that’s what those big pharma liberals are, you know. There’s a reason “socialist” is in “national socialist.” Of course you know. And this country’s going down the tubes because of it. And Thomas is suffering in that bathtub for the same damn reason.

January 19th, 2016

I’m about to go ask the ladies on the homeschool forum for some help because I just went to wake Thomas and all his holes are leaking. There’s yellow stuff coming out of them and a tiny black hard thing is poking out of each one. It’s like a pebble or a seed or something godawful. When he opened his eyes, I could see more holes starting to form in the corners where his tears come out. He said he could see me but I looked like I was underwater.

I carried him to the bathroom so he could do his business, and when he sat down on the toilet, some holes in his thighs split and the stuff inside, the yellow gunk and the hard pebble piece, bulged out. He looked at me like he was scared and started to pick at it. His finger slid all the way inside.

There’s no way I’m going to the doctor who’ll just inject him with more stuff to make this even worse, but I’m concerned his chickenpox might be getting infected. I guess it’s time to go ask online. The ladies from the homeschool forum have been so helpful already. It’s great to be able to rely on the wisdom of moms.

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I was kidnapped by my girlfriend and what she did to me was beyond comprehension.

About ten years ago, I dated a masseuse named Valerie. Well, masseuse in training. She was passionate and enthusiastic and she practiced as frequently as she could. That meant I got a ton of free massages. Obviously, since we were a couple, those massages would escalate and turn into that usual thing couples do, but it was only after she felt she’d gotten in a good practice session.

After one of our, ahem, “sessions,” Val looked a little confused but also relieved. I asked her what was up. She told me the sores she had on the inside of her mouth didn’t hurt anymore. We’d talked about those things before. She said they weren’t contagious, thankfully, but she’d had to endure them for most of her life and they were intensely painful; sometimes even debilitatingly so. Doctors prescribed an ointment for her to put on them when the outbreaks occurred, but they barely took the edge off. Plus, she was deeply attached to the ideas of natural healing and homeopathy and all that, so she very, very rarely used the medication. But that night, for the first time in a while, I could tell she wasn’t powering through her pain. She genuinely felt good and had no idea why.

Her pain returned a few hours later. As always, she did her best to ignore it. Fast forward a couple days – another massage, another occasion for sexy times. Midway through, she stopped kissing me and exclaimed, “that’s it!” I didn’t know what she was talking about. She rolled off me and stuck her finger in my mouth. Not really sure what the hell was going on, I just sat up on the bed and let her do whatever she was doing. She pulled her wet finger from my mouth and stuck it in her own. I saw her rubbing the inside of her cheek. Her face brightened and she informed me, with complete certainty, that my saliva was taking away her pain. I laughed and said something encouraging despite thinking she was nuts. Then she hopped back on me and I completely forgot everything she’d said. Continue reading “I was kidnapped by my girlfriend and what she did to me was beyond comprehension.”