Monday, August 27, 2018

late on the update, but here goes...

I picked up the truck on Wednesday morning, and IMMEDIATELY started loading the boxes I had packed already and sitting under tarps in front of my house. Except for the ones that had gotten soaked due to an unnoticed hole in my tarp, and the fact that I was loading them all on a pallet in the depression I had hollowed out for my inflatable pool. Which flooded. AND went over the top of the pallet.....

Took Rose to the hospital at noon to check in for her gall bladderectomy, which they had scheduled for 2:45, but wanted her to get there early enough for blood tests and xrays. Which they decided they didn't need as she had had them both done only a week before when they scheduled her damn gallectomy.

And of course, at 3:40 they came in to tell her it'd be about another hour, as they were running late due to some unexpected complications in a "few" of the earlier operations that were scheduled before hers.

6:28 they wheeled her out of the room and into surgery.

We didn't get home until after 10:00 PM. Fuck it.

Thursday morning I got all the wet boxes (minus the water ruined shit I threw out) repacked, and all the boxes loaded in the truck. Then went through the house throwing miscellaneous this and assorted thats into hastily taped boxes, and clearing out the smaller bits of flotsam and jetsam that we wouldn't need for our final night and early Friday loading party.

Friday. Don't ask.

What? You really want to know? Well, okay. But it gets kinda ugly from here on out.....

My loving brother was supposed to come help me on Friday, but had called Monday or Tuesday, and told me his son had to use the truck for "something that came up" and wouldn't be able to help me with the last of my packing.
Friday I had planned, with his and his thirty-something strapping son, to load the heavy shit.
HUGE deep freeze unit. Side by side fridge. Queen size bed with the head- and footboard from hell.
And I did.
Keep in mind, I'm crippled. NOT disabled. Crippled. Disabled means NOT able, and that does not, and never will, apply to me.

The deep freeze wasn't to bad. I had the foresight to rent a refrigerator dolly, and except for winding it around the kitchen breakfast counter, and past the couch, once I got it down the outdoor steps, it was just a yank, pull, and a tug to the truck. Where I found I did not have the strength to pull it up the ramp and into the truck.
Tied a rope across the rails in the back of the moving truck, hooked up a come-along and a couple of tie-down straps to hold any progress I made, and winched it into place.

Tied the bed mattress up with a tarp under one corner, loops to grab hold, and dragged, manhandled the fucking thing out to the truck and up the ramp. Tied that sucker up GOOD. I could have totaled the truck driving into the Grand Canyon and they would have found that motherfucker still standing upright on the side of the truck wall.
Box spring wasn't so bad, just carried that.
Headboard and footboard were drag five feet, rest, drag five more, rest. Up the ramp the same way, and tied down.

Last item: the fridge. Its a BIG fridge.
Got it secured to the dolly, around the counter, past the couch, and realized I had to turn it around to get it down the steps. Got a dolly wheel caught on the door jamb, tipped it forward to pull back for momentum, and as soon as it bumped over, it started going top first over the steps. I TRIED to hold on to the dolly with one hand and the door frame with the other, but since my right shoulder don't work so well after the old .12ga injury, I failed with dramatic results.
Fridge went over stairs and did a complete 180 degree ass over end flip, landing in the weeds just past my walkway. I did a fairly spectacular ass over fridge acrobatic maneuver, and ended in the small sumac trees just past where the fridge landed. Didn't have the oomph left to lift the damn thing upright, so had to use my come-along on it to get it upright, died three times pulling the dolly to the truck ramp, not to mention the 15 or so times I had to rest the weight on my knees to rest my shoulder and back til I got it there, and then had to set up the come-along/tie down setup again to get it in the truck.

This all took me until almost 12:30. I know this, because I looked at my watch as my brother pulled in with his son and truck and a trailer in tow to pick up any metal I may have left, and the camper I had been using as a tool/storage shed. He was surprised to see me still there, as I had told him I had to leave by noon to pick up Rose's check and get on the road if I was going to have time to unload it in Michigan and return the truck by Sunday morning.

I left an awful lot of things behind that I wish I had taken. Nothing unreplaceable, but having to do it all myself, and being literally fucking exhausted, I just told my brother to take whatever was left, go fuck himself, and left. But until you realize how MUCH you've left, and what its going to take to replace it, you just don't think of the cost in both dollars and regrets. Hindsight being 20-20 and all that.

Gas for that loaded down moving truck, pulling a car trailer behind it was a bit more than I had hoped for. Got to Michigan with 18 bucks and change, and ended up taking 2 two-hour naps curled up with my knees in my face in front of the steering wheel so I didn't wrap us up on some wayward speed limit sign somewhere.

Found out when I got here that my buddy's wife had told her brother he could crash here with his wife and three kids until they closed on the house they were buying. Not a big deal as Rose and I are in a nice fifthwheel camper, but my buddy's storage building (HUGE), is taken up with the household goods of his brother in law, and all my goods are in a beat up 100+ year old barn at mybuddy's friend's place 10 miles away.

Its Oh-dark-thirty at the moment, but I'll get some shots tomorrow and show ya'll what it looks like here. Spoiler alert: Its Michigan, so its beautiful.

Broke, tired, a lot of regrets at letting my anger at my brother cost me shit I couldn't afford to lose, but I'm HOME. Grew up in these parts. Still recognize some of it. And when it all comes together, I'll be even happier I made the move. Plus Rose loves it here.

Oh, and I lost my wallet somewhere along the route getting here. If you come across it, let me know....

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

I'm grateful

Picked up the moving truck this morning. Gonna take me two days to load up, because I'll be doing it by myself. Rose will help as she can, but as at the time I'm writing this, she's in surgery having her gall bladder removed. I won't let her lift anything even if she's able!
I've (probably) got enough for gas to make it to Michigan, and my buddy up there say he'll advance me the funds if I'm short.
Probably have to snooze in the truck overnight, but I'll set up a cot for Rose in the back to catch 40 winks, and I'll sleep in the cab with the dogs.
I figured y'all deserved an update, and I'll keep you up on my progress. I'm truly grateful for the support I've received here, and send a BIG THANK you and God bless to Wirecutter and Bustednuckles for having my back.
THANK you all.

Saturday, August 11, 2018

I haven't gone a month without a paycheck since I was 16 years old. After being disabled for the last 6 years and having to depend on the US Government for my living, I've been threatened off and on since 2015 of exactly that.
I've always managed to make the trip to the Administration office, sit and wait at their leisure most of the day, explain my points, get someone to actually read my case notes, and get the situation resolved.
And do it all over again in 3 months or so.
Now they tell me my waiver was refused; and I don't remember ever submitting for a waiver!  But apparently among all the questions I've responded to trying to get this resolved, one of the government flunkies was putting the answers in a waiver request.
My appeals process has run out of the number of times I can submit; even though I was never informed I was submitting for an appeal for a waiver I never knew I requested.
It's so much easier to pass the problem along than to fix the problem, all the while telling me to my face that "that should take care of it" and as soon as this gets into "the system", the problem will magically disappear as quickly as it magically appeared to start with.

I only get 1307.00 a month through the charity doled out to me that I PAID for through my sweat and the generous "donation" I've put into it over my lifetime of labor. I never asked to be disabled. I've worked all my life, and it MEANT something. I'd STILL rather work than have to take money from the government. If I were younger when I was shot, I could have probably found a new job. Or if I didn't have the choice of pain pills or debilitating pain that stops me in my tracks. (I take MAYBE three pills a month. I've got an addictive personality, and would rather hurt than be dependent. Hence my disgust at depending on the government...).

I've tried, with Rose working a menial labor job cooking mass meals for a juvenile delinquent group home, to make this place work.

I failed

I've had to come to terms with my failure. My home is in foreclosure, I've sold all my livestock, my garden has gone to weed, my cornfield sits dry in the Oklahoma drought. And I've given up.

I've made arrangements to move to Michigan, where I have my childhood friend (and more than a brother to me) and who has his own small farm, in order to make it easier on BOTH our families. Neither one of us are young anymore, both have our health problems, but our families together can make it where either one alone can't.

Long story here, I know. The bottom line comes to THIS has to be the month the government decided to finally fuck me over. No check coming.

 I need a truck to move my life to Michigan. The generosity in charity from the few readers I still have, and the support of Bustednuckles over at The Vulgar Curmudgeon has been fantastic. People have donated to help me when they don't even know me.
I need 300.00 more by early Monday to give PayPal time to make the transfer to my bank by Wednesday when I'm supposed to pay for the transportation to start another life over.

Yes, I'm begging. I've done enough of it at the Social Security office, you'd think I'd be used to it. I've tried to justify myself here, but it still galls.

PLEASE, even if it's only a few bucks, I have nowhere else to turn. I'd go on the streets if it were just me, but I can't put my wife through that (regardless of the fact she says she would stay beside me if it comes to that).

Thank you.

Friday, August 10, 2018

Might get there yet...

Thank you to those who have contributed to my truck rental. If not for your kindness, I don't know where I'd put my goods aor even where Rose and I would be sleeping after Wednesday.
I'm not there yet, but by the grace of God and the generosity of Patriots helping Patriots, I'll have enough by Wednesday to rent a truck to get me to Michigan.
Bless you all, and a grateful acknowledgement of your generosity to Randall D., James S., Douglas M., William Y., Stephen G., Gerhard B., Bernadette W., And Phil P. ( A True American Patriot).

Thursday, August 9, 2018

Loosing the farm

Thanks to the social security administration claiming they double paid me in May of 2013, when they sent my check to a closed bank account at Chase, then ended up writing me a paper check for my entitlement, I'm not getting my Disability check next Wednesday. They say they never received the payment back from Chase, which I of course never received either, as the account had been closed.
I am 2 months behind on my mortgage, and the farm is going into foreclosure. I have the opportunity to move to Michigan where a childhood friend has a small lot and will take me and Rose in. I had already reserved a Penske truck for the move, but have been informed by the Administration it is withholding my check (except for 26 dollars) and will not be able to rent the truck.
Rose recently went through gall stone problems and surgery, and a very scary hospital stay while they took care of a cancer on her pancreas. This had her out of work for quite awhile, and I've already been fighting to keep things going ever since I spent May of last year in a coma pursuant to developing double viral pneumonia.

I need help.


Thank you.  Steven Vanderhoff aka Xeno