On Top of Everything Else

They just keep pushing the gun closer.  I keep thinking it CANNOT get any worse.  But IT DOES.  I just feel like FATE or God or whatever you want to call it, is telling me to wrap it up.  Life dealt me crap and I better get use to the idea and move on.

My husband's job is now in jeopardy because he dared to go with me to UCLA.  I was sick, the baby was sick, and I just didn't think I could manage it alone.  Since I went into a complete break down there, I was glad he was with me - at least until yesterday.  My husband was scheduled to work only Friday and Saturday, March 11 and 12 this week.  His last day of work last week was Sunday night, March 6.  As far as the schedule was concerned, he was off Monday 7th through Thursday 10th.  My husband was an ironworker with prior food server and gourmet busser experience.  Construction is dead in Las Vegas and we are told there will be no jobs in construction for up to five more years.  So, my husband applied for every food server position he could find.  He took one of the only jobs offered to him, a lesser position of gourmet busser, in order to provide for us.  The position is not a full time or even part time position - it is an On Call position.  We found this job after 360 job applications, followed by only 6 interviews, and one offer.  Las Vegas is hit hard by the political rip-off of the middle class by mortgage companies, stock market, bankers, the rich and politicians who just want us to go away and die off.  Well, looks like they get their wish!  My husband found a position at a casino hotel.  We were so happy.  My husband is so diligent and a real hard worker.  He looked at the schedule the week of my UCLA trip and then asked him manager if she minded if he was out of town Monday, but definitely back on Tuesday, since he was not on the work schedule for those days.  She seemed a bit aggravated, but really could not say much since he was not scheduled, so she made note of it and thanked him for telling her.  But such things come back and bite you.  You see, my husband will be on probation for his first ninety days.  We are only 30 days into that probation.  During the probation, they can dismiss you for anything or nothing.  They can even say, they tried to call you in but you didn’t answer the phone.  I know it doesn’t sound fair, but they don’t care.  On Thursday, March 10, my husband was called in for an extra day of work.  We were happy.  We need the money.  But when he got to work, he was informed that two days were added to his schedule after he left Sunday night, March 6.  They added Tuesday and Wednesday to the schedule, knowing he was not going to be coming back in and then did not even bother to call him about the change.  This tells us the manager was unhappy about him not being readily available for work every single night.  According to his co-workers, it looks like this casino restaurant has a history of letting new hires work until the last week of probation and then using the excuse they could not get hold of them for on-call to let them go.  Now we are just waiting for the dismissal prior to probation.  Something else for me to stress about.  More crap for us to eat!  Why us?  Why do things just keep getting worse?

I'm glad I'm wrapping things up.  It’s like the only stress relief I can find.  I’m moving forward to the end.  I found a paralegal who will type of the Guardianship papers for husband and my grandson and the adoption papers for my husband and son for $200.  I'm selling absolutely every single thing I have left to pay for this and get it done.  My clothes (don't need but two outfits now, one to wear and one for cremation), make-up (who needs make-up), luggage (never going to travel again), outgrown baby toys and baby clothes, high chair (he can sit on a chair to eat), all extra furniture including the kitchen table and chairs (we can sit on the sofa to eat), my few last keepsakes, frames, junk to most people but memories and treasures to me.  I'm stripping the walls bare.  My wedding ring’s gone and nothing else means as much as that so who cares.  I’m even considering selling the mattresses because we can sleep on the box springs or buy some cheap-ass broken down mattresses for replacement.  I don't need any of these things because your memories and treasures do not go with you when you die.  Nothing goes with you.  All I care about now is final arrangements.  I need to make sure this is taken care of.

It’s so sad watching my husband slowly die along side me.  We sit and talk and talk and try to figure things out, and we come up with nothing.  He even tried to accept a second on-call job with another casino.  You see, with casinos, you have to list every single place you’ve worked or work for the background check.  If you lie, no job.  When he said he was working on-call for another casino restaurant, but would go with them if it meant more hours, or possibly work for both – they said no way.  We want you exclusively or nothing, and we cannot promise any set amount hours, so nevermind.  I know he is so depressed, too.  He wants to take care of me and he feels like he has failed.  I tell him it’s not his fault that this all happened when the economy took a crap.  He knows it’s true, but that doesn’t keep the tears from his eyes.  Someone asked me if I discussed my insulin overdose ending with him.  Yes, I have.  We decided it together.  He does not want to see me suffer in pain, or die while puking myself to death in a bucket, or watch me wither away to nothing through starvation.  Someone else asked if I tried treatments like chemo-rad yet?  I’m not a viable candidate for that due to my Meniere’s Disease and other problems.  I have severe reactions to almost all medications so chemo is not really an option, and UCLA blew my chances at a surgical consult.  Like I said – money talks, bullsh*t walks.  If you do not have money, you die.  One guy said Medicaid has taken care of him and wanted to know why it won’t take care of me.  I live in Nevada.  Getting Medicaid when you are married or have any miniscule income is unlikely.  Even then, Medicaid will not pay your expenses to go out of state to get surgery.  My oncologist tells me that surgical removal of a tumor my size is a death sentence if performed by Vegas doctors.  So you tell me – what would you do?

These are my plans.  They are logical and based on all the facts about my cancer and situation.  I will make all the final arrangements I can including the adoption and guardianship because these bring me a small measure of peace of mind.  I will continue on for a couple months or weeks until I cannot swallow anymore.  During those weeks, I will take my grandson to the park to play; go to as many free events as I can with my son and family and husband; save every penny I can and put it in the bank without my husband’s knowledge so he’ll have a little tide over when I go; and when it gets close – when the swallowing becomes very painful and my weight loss increases – I will spend a last evening with everyone, maybe rent a couple movies like Lion King and Two Weeks, followed by a good laugh with HangOver.  Then when everyone leaves, I’ll spend a few hours with my husband, and then send him away, take a heavy insulin shot and go to sleep.  I’ll have a suicide note with me so no one thinks my husband or anyone else was involved.  All that’s left is to call MedCure.  I get to choose my last minutes - not the uncaring doctors in this world.

People have asked me what would be needed to convince me to hang on a little longer.  Wow.  A change of luck!  Not having to eat anymore crap!  No more bad things being piled on me when I am so over loaded all ready.  How about a day time, full time food server job for my husband with a casino restaurant with culinary insurance?  That way we could use day care for my grandson when I’m gone and not worry about insurance coverage for my last months.  How about ONE measly good thing to happen for us?  Just ONE!  But that’s just wishful thinking.