Life is short. Don’t let it sneak up on you and and you be regretting that you didn’t tell a loved one how you felt about them. After they have died, or when you are on your own death bed, it is too late then to let your family know how you feel or felt about them.
There are many people that are too shy and/or feel silly telling a loved one how they feel. When they are confronted, they usually say, “I don’t have to tell them, they know by how I treat them.” This may be true, but people are human and therefore like being told, every once in a while at least, that they are loved and appreciated.
Many times the silence is because of an argument or disagreement. The individual loved ones are so angry with each other, they don’t even want to see each other, let alone tell the other one they are loved. Many a family has been split apart by just such an argument or perceived injustice. After all, the last thing you want to say or hear from someone is that you are loved right after you were told where to go and how to get there.
It’s normal to have disagreements and to argue about things. Some arguments start over the smallest little thing and end up just short of a family feud, with everybody taking sides and continuing to call each other names and telling each other just where to go. The worst part is that it may have started because someone had a bad day at work, at school, or even at home. I have even heard of instances where one of the people got so upset and angry with the other one that they killed the other one. When the survivor came to their senses, they felt so guilty and full of remorse that they took their own life. Granted, this was taking it to the maximum extreme, but never the less it has happened, in real life, and not just on TV.
I try to live by my own advice, and to be a good example. I fail a lot, but then I succeed a lot too. There are some people in my family that tell me that I tell others, both family members and friends, that I love them too often. I am told that I don’t have to say it every time I see the other person, or text the other person, call the other person, or make a comment on their Facebook. I disagree. I have a lot of medical problems, as many, if not most, of my long time readers know. I was told many years ago that I would be dead by the time I was 59. Well, I am now in my mid sixties and still kicking, but I know that I am on borrowed time. That being the case, each time I have contact with a family member or friend, It could be my last, so I let them know that I love them.
Now I know that there are going to be many readers that will say, “Nobody knows when their last day is going to be, they could die of a heart attack, or be in an accident and get killed. This is very true. But it stands to reason that a person with numerous medical problems has a much greater chance of dying than someone that is, as the saying goes, “healthy as an ox”.
Don’t take me wrong, I know that arguments are going to happen. No two people can live together, or be close friends for that matter, without having the occasional misunderstanding, disagreement, argument, or whatever you want to call it. I am just trying to impress on you how important it is to let your loved ones know just how you feel.
All I am asking is that you stop and think about some of your past arguments with family or friends. Is it really worth it to carry the hurt for years and never have anymore good times together? I don’t think so. But here we all have to give in some. No one person is always right, and by the same token, no one person is always wrong either. We all need to try to have that “unconditional love” for each other.
If you have had an argument with a family member or a friend, be the bigger person and be the first to apologize. Even if the other person doesn’t accept your apology, give it anyway. At least you will know that you tried.
The definition of “unconditional love” is;
Unconditional love is known as affection without any limitations or love without conditions. This term is sometimes associated with other terms such as true altruism or complete love. … It is a concept comparable to true love, a term which is more frequently used to describe love between lovers.
In any circumstance, try to stay positive and upbeat. This can be accomplished in various ways.
Some words have a positive connotation, some have a negative connotation, and some have a neutral connotation. The definition of a connotative word is;
When you look up a word in the dictionary, you will find its literal (denotative) meaning. However, the emotions and associations connected to a word is known as its connotative meaning. Depending on our experiences, certain words have a positive, negative, or neutral connotation.
One way is by trying not to use negative words or statements with negative connotations in them or to them. The definition below is of a negative connotation, however, it also has a link for the difference between negative and positive connotation.
Negative connotation is when the word implies something negative or is informal. For example, the word chick is not only informal, but sometimes implies negativity to other girls. Now, we need to know what Positive Connotation is. Positive Connotation implies Positivity or.Jan 7, 2013
I felt that it was necessary to look up the definition of negative and positive connotation, that way there is a reference to fall back on in case there is some confusion about it.
When I became a teenager, my Mother told me to always try to make anybody I had any contact with feel better by having had an encounter with me. I guess it was her way of saying to “brighten the corner where you are”. That was a very hard thing for me to do, as I was sad most of my growing up years. I was backwards and didn’t really have very good interaction skills with other people. That happens when you are being abused a lot.
My life sort of turned around when I got married and moved to another state. However, after my first husband left me for a truck stop waitress, my world started to crumble.
I met someone else at church and we got married soon after that. My life was beautiful. I looked forward to coming home everyday to be with my husband. but that too changed just two years after we were married. He lost his job and had to go to another town to get work. Then he started back to school to get his engineering degree. Somewhere along the line he changed his major to psychology. It was then that my past came flooding back. Long story short, he left and moved to another state to continue his education and get his degree is psychology.
I poured myself into my work at my full time job and also got a part-time job. Things were going good for me until I became disabled. While I was visiting my family back home in March of 1990, I came down with asthma, bronchitis, and mico-plasm pneumonia (the worst kind for scaring your lungs). I had to stay an extra two weeks because the doctors would not let me fly back to my own home. Once I got back to my own home, I was being rushed to the hospital every 7 to 10 days with asthma attacks so bad that I couldn’t breathe. You can’t keep a job when you are having to be rushed to the hospital so much. On June 9, 1990, I lost both my full time job that I had had for 16 years, and my part time job that I had had for 5 years. The next year I had to file for bankruptcy.
I was put on numerous medications to control all of my symptoms and new diseases. one of the medications that the doctors put me on for the inflammation in my lungs was Prednisone. After I went on that one, I gained 100 pounds in 6 months. It took the doctors 3 years to come up with the perfect combination of medications to control my condition. In the meantime I had had to start using oxygen.
After three years of being sick, I was feeling well enough to start to school to train for another job. So at 41 years old, in May of 1993, I started going to Lexington Community College, pulling oxygen tanks behind me. The day before I started classes, I found out that I had become diabetic. Unknown to me, one of the really bad adverse side effects of Prednisone was that it could cause you to become diabetic. I was still having to be rushed to the hospital with asthma attacks, but no where near as often as before.
I was planning on being a Respiratory Therapist. Most of my classes were medical in nature that being the case. It came time to declare my major, and so I did. There were 300 students that tried to get into the program. I was number 3 to be accepted. Needless to say I was very happy. My happiness was to be short lived. In January, I ended up in a wheelchair. You can’t do Respiratory Care from a wheelchair. So in tears, I had to go tell them that I had to decide on a different major. The major I had to pick had to be one that could be done in a wheelchair. I chose computer programming.
Long story short, it took me 6 and 1/2 years to finish a 2 year program. With all of my medical problems and doctors appointments and therapy appointments, I was only able to attend half time. During the time I was there, I had to have 13 surgeries. But through it all, I persevered. I finished in December of 1999, with honors, and went through the graduation ceremonies in May of 2000. I had had to be rushed from work to the hospital earlier in the day, but returned to work after being discharged from the ER. I told them at work that there was no way that I was going to miss my graduation ceremony. I attended my graduation ceremonies and ended up in a wall of smoke just outside the building as i was going to go home. The ambulance had to take me from my vehicle to the hospital for a second time that day. I was back at work the next day.
I had started working in March of 2000. It had taken me a little over 2 months, after finishing school, to find a job. The following is a picture of me at my desk at work:
As you can see I had to wear a face mask so I wouldn’t catch anything from anybody else. My immune system was so low due to all of my medical conditions and medications. I had wrist braces, a back brace, leg braces, and had to use a scooter to get around. But I still went to work. I had to get up at 4:30 every morning, to be able to do everything that I had to do to get ready to go to work, and be there by 7:00. i went to bed at 8:30 every night.
My time at work was marked with many medical issues as well. I had 11 surgeries while I was working. In November of 2004, I was getting ready to sit down at my desk, after returning from yet another surgery. My supervisor informed me not to sit down, and went on to tell me that I no longer worked there. She told me that they needed me to be there and not out having to have surgeries all the time.
I have been on total disability ever since then. I still have to have surgeries and have many medical problems, but I try to find things to laugh at about my situation. Many people get upset with me for laughing at such serious issues. I just tell them that if I couldn’t laugh, I couldn’t make it with all the things that I have wrong with me. In other words, I try to stay upbeat as much as possible. granted, I don’t make it all the time, but I never stop trying.
I have made it for 17 years with an artificial bladder. Of the people had the same surgery as I did at the same time as I had mine, most of them died within the first three years. Only a handful made it for five years. I am the only person still surviving that had it back in 2000. I am waiting for the next surgery on my bladder as we speak. i have to get down to 200 pounds. At my current weight of 226.6 pounds, I have a 60% chance of surviving the surgery. At 200 pounds, my survival rate goes up to 80%. Granted 80% isn’t all that great, and i would much rather have a 95% chance of surviving, but 80% is better that 60% any day of the week.
What I am trying to point out with this whole big post is that you have to stay positive as much as possible. I know that it is not humanly possible to be positive all the time, but it is humanly possible to be positive at some time everyday!!!! PERIOD!!!
America I am passionate, but you don’t care about your elderly…Your formulas are outdated. …many seniors are in one room dwellings crammed with their lives in 2 drawers…They work for years…pensions and 401K tricked their savings to live life on a tight budget…You discourage seniors marrying, so many shack to keep checks they’ve earned…oh all seniors don’t have cars…mass transit and cab prices still climbing …..So….
After having to go through the loss of my friend’s parents dog last month, I never thought that something like that would happen any too soon again. I was oh so wrong.
My guinea pig, Alisha is now resting in peace. Here is a picture of me holding Alisha, my furry baby, and of her getting ready to give me kisses. I loved her so dearly. My friend had listened with a stethoscope and had heard at least three if not four baby’s heartbeats. I was so excited that we were going to have babies again. This was to be the last time. We never let any of our guinea pigs have more than three litters and this was her third litter.
Wednesday, February 3rd, she seemed to be going into labor to have her babies. When I woke up Wednesday morning, there was every indication that she was in labor and had already had one still born baby. There was a lot of blood covered bedding in the cage. I was a little sad not to see a live baby, but not too concerned because I didn’t know how long it had been since she had had the still born baby.
She was just staying in the corner being very quiet. I tried to pet her, but all she would do was shiver all over. I left her alone to see if she would finish having the babies. After about three or four hours I went to check on her and see how many babies she had had. To my dismay, she had not had any more babies, but was still bleeding. I thought that she was still having babies, but apparently they were all being still born. It was a very sad time not to see any live babies.
On Thursday, February 4th, when I first looked in on her, she was just the same as I had left her the night before. I also noticed that she had not eaten anything and had not had any water either. I had put a piece of tape on the line where the water was to check on her water intake.
Throughout the day I continued to check on her and to pet her. Being scared that she was not going to make it, I had my friend to take some pictures of me holding her, for what could possibly be the last time. They are below.
A few hours later I went back to check on her, but still no more babies. Not knowing anything else to do, I covered her cage up and left her alone for the night hoping to see babies in the morning.
But, that was not to happen. Much to my dismay, in the morning, Friday, February 5th, there still were no live babies to be seen. But Alisha was still very big, so I knew that there were still babies to be born. But she was sitting in the corner differently from what she had been the day before. Now she was pressing her head up against the side of the cage and breathing very quickly. The carrot that I had given her the night before was dried up and still beside her. Obviously she still was not eating or drinking.
My friends and I started trying to force water into her by using a small syringe and giving her a few drops at the time. We were hoping that after doing that, she would have the babies. So once again, we left her alone for three or four hours at the time, in between trying to give her water. At around 7:00 PM I went to check on her, and to hold her and hug her just for a little while. I had my friend to listen to her and to see if he could hear the babies’ heart beats. Unfortunately, he couldn’t hear any and could barely hear her heart beat. He thought that she had a collapsed lung. When I picked her up, she had an accident on me.
I was a little alarmed, but thought that maybe she was getting ready to have her now dead babies. That, she had been in labor too long and the babies had all died. So once again, I went out and left her alone for an hour. My thoughts were that if she had the dead babies, just maybe, then she could rebound and be OK. At least that was what I was hoping.
At 8:00 PM I went back to check on her and her babies. There were no babies, and she was not breathing either. I had my friend to listen again, and he confirmed my worst fears. Alisha had died. She had died from the exhaustion of trying to have her babies. She had apparently been pushing so hard to have them that her lung collapsed and she just could not rebound from that stress. At least she is no longer suffering from her ordeal. I will miss her dearly.
All day Saturday (yesterday), February 6, I was just sort of in shock. I had been counting on watching the last babies grow up and go to loving homes. That was not to happen. Instead, I had to say “Good-Bye” forever to Alisha, my furry baby.
I am sorry that I have been unable to do my blogs during this time, but to me, my furry baby was more important. I loved her so much. I watched her grow up from the day she was born, and I bought her from my friends, when she was old enough to be taken away from her mother. It had been a wonderful time with her, and I certainly was not ready to let her go. I know that at least she will not suffer anymore.
I hope that this is the end of anybody that I know losing a pet to an untimely death. They are having a really bad effect on me lately, and I am sort of befuddled to understand as to why.
This was on my Facebook yesterday 1/24/16. Americans that are not taking the government for a spin need to fight against this kind of dishonesty. It’s people like this that keep those that really need the help from getting it. I am totally disabled and have been since I lost both of my jobs in June of 1990. Even then after my asthma got under control, I went back to school, graduated from the community college and worked until the place where I worked let me go because I was too disabled. Now I don’t even qualify for $10 in food stamps. I have an artificial bladder and my medical expenses for the supplies for it are high. The supplies are:
ABD pads at $57 per case every two months
depends (at $37 per case per month) to go over the ABD pads,so my clothes aren’t wet all of the time,
Co-pay on medicine($6 to $9 per month) to go in the bladder for two hours a day,
60cc syringes to irrigate the bladder $3 each,
10cc syringes to deflate and another one to inflate the balloon on the catheter $1.50 each
Saline to irrigate the bladder,
Sterile Water to inflate the balloon so the catheter won’t come out of my bladder (both the saline and the sterile water are $48 per case of 12 bottles),
catheters to be inserted into my abdomen on into the bladder at $13 each(Medicare will only allow 1 per month) and I need more than the one per month due to mucous build up from the bladder being made from my intestines and the intestines producing mucous and clogging the catheter(the intestines does not know that it is a bladder now),
drainage bags $10 each(Medicare allows 2 per month, no allowance for bags getting leaks in them and needing to be replaced)
washable pads for my bed so I won’t ruin my mattress when the bladder leaks during my sleep and soaks the bed $10 each,(I currently have 12 pads, but they are getting holes in them after 15 years of use. I need to replace them)etc –
The expense of the supplies doesn’t matter to the food stamp place though.
Oh, by the way I’m white. I guess if I was black I could get all kinds of help.
And the blacks think they are being mistreated? Go figure! And all the blacks can scream is discrimination.
I think I am a victim of reverse discrimination when it comes to receiving benefits from the government.
The blacks no longer have any reason to be so upset. They receive everything and all they have to do is sit on their lazy butts all day from the day they graduate and have several illegitimate children and get everything for the children too. And when questioned about getting a job say that they don’t need to get a job because they get a check from the government every month.
In the mean time people like me, who worked from the time I graduated high school until I became disabled, and then even after I got stable enough to retrain for another job, up until I got fired by my employer for being absent too much for having to have too many surgeries, can’t get diddly from the government.
And the black people wonder why the white people are so upset with them. It’s because so many of them are so lazy it’s a wonder they can even breathe, that breathing doesn’t take too much effort for them to do it.
I’m not a racist either. I have many friends that are African American, and I respect them very much. But the ones that abuse the government and get benefits by being so lazy and dishonest just infuriate the heck out of me.
I worked too hard for too long to be treated the way I get treated just because I’m white and I’m honest. But at least my Mother brought me up right.
This little story was on my Facebook recently. It really touched me and spoke volumes to me, and made me stop and think really hard.
Read it and see what you think.
Burned Biscuits – A lesson we all should learn.
When I was a kid, my Mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work. On that evening so long ago, my Mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned biscuits in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed!
All my dad did was reach for his biscuit, smile at my Mom and ask me how my day was at school. I don’t remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that ugly burned biscuit. He ate every bite of that thing…never made a face nor uttered a word about it!
When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my Mom apologize to my dad for burning the biscuits. And I’ll never forget what he said, “Honey, I love burned biscuits every now and then.”
Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his biscuits burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, “Your Mom put in a hard day at work today and she’s real tired. And besides–a little burned biscuit never hurt anyone!” As I’ve grown older, I’ve thought about that many times. Life is full of imperfect things and imperfect people. I’m not the best at hardly anything, and I forget birthdays and anniversaries just like everyone else. But what I’ve learned over the years is that learning to accept each other’s faults and choosing to celebrate each other’s differences is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship.
And that’s my prayer for you today…that you will learn to take the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of your life and lay them at the feet of God. Because in the end, He’s the only One who will be able to give you a relationship where a burnt biscuit isn’t a deal-breaker!
We could extend this to any relationship. In fact, understanding is the base of any relationship, be it a husband-wife or parent-child or friendship!
“Don’t put the key to your happiness in someone else’s pocket–keep it in your own.” So, please pass me a biscuit, and yes, the burned one will do just fine.
Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle. “Life without God is like an unsharpened pencil–it has no point”
-Anonymous
My Grandpa Montague was similar to this man. Not much got him upset. He even ate burned toast, because “everybody needs to eat burned stuff every once in a while”.
Afterwards they will have a greater respect for things that are not burned.
This article is the result of quite a bit of frustration on my part, resulting from all of the trouble and hard times that I go through everyday. My life, due to being disabled and not even having enough money to buy medical things that I need, clothes, or hardly anything else for that matter. As the article will point out, I have worked and or gone to school since the day I graduated from High School until the day I became disabled, and even after that. I have struggled for more years than the woman in the video (later in this article) can even imagine, yet she gets handed everything, from the government, on a silver platter so to speak, or at least it seems that way to me.
The definitions of the government programs are as I perceive these programs to be, from what I have seen and heard.
Social Security – The payment that is received every month once a person retires, at or after the age of 62. Payments have been made into this program by withdrawals being made every payday from the employee’s paycheck. There is usually medical insurance and retirement payments from the employer, where the employee is retiring. They also qualify to obtain Medicare and pay whatever co-pays are left, after their retirement insurance has paid first and Medicare has paid their part.
Supplemental Security Income – A payment that is usually made to someone that has been born with a defect that prevents them from being able to earn a living. Sometimes a payment is made from the Supplemental Security Income program to people that have become disabled later in life. This is true if the person is on what is called a PASS, Plan for Achieving Self Support, after having been re-trained, by Vocational Rehabilitation, to do something other than what they could do before they became disabled. While they are receiving the Supplemental Security Income payments, they also receive a Medicaid card. The Medicaid card pays ALL MEDICAL BILLS and PRESCRIPTIONS ARE ONLY $1. They automatically qualify for food stamps also.
Social Security Disability Income – When a person becomes disabled later in life, and they have worked at least three months in the past year, they are eligible to receive Social Security Disability Income. This is only after they have been off work for six months. During this time they do not have any medical insurance, and no money. They have to depend on family and friends for everything. After a period of two years, they qualify for Medicare to pay for many of their medical bills with leaving a 20% co-pay to be paid by the disabled person. When they qualify for Medicare Part D, they have to pay for the prescription insurance and co-pays an all of their prescriptions that are covered. If by chance a prescription is not covered, then they have to pay for the full amount of the prescription. If they are lucky, they may qualify for $10 in food stamps. At least that is what happened to me. I had to save my food stamps for two months to even be able to afford peanut butter, jelly and bread. What a laugh. Most disabled people, just by the nature of them being disabled, have more medical bills than the normal person does. Their money does not go very far at all. The disability is barely enough to pay for rent, utilities, some food, medical co-pays, prescription co-pays, medical supplies, and transportation. If there is enough left they can buy some clothes. It would be nice if they could receive just $1 in Supplemental Security Income and then they would get a Medicaid card and food stamps.
If by chance they are like I was, they worked too long and made too much money to qualify for any Supplemental Security Income and a Medicaid card. I worked from the time I graduated High School in 1970 and then graduated from Business College in 1971, up until I became disabled in 1989. I worked a full time job and a part time job for the last five years of that time. I lost both jobs on the same day. It took doctors from 1989 until 1993 to find the magical combination of medication to control my asthma attacks enough for me to go back to school. At the time I started attending the community college where I live, I was pulling oxygen tanks behind me and had to wear a medical face mask to be able to attend. The month that I started attending school, I found out that I was diabetic. I was still having asthma attacks, but not every 7-10 days like I had been doing for the last four years. I was only able to attend classes on a half time basis. This meant that I would have to attend classes for twice as long as most of the other students did.
I started attending the community college in May of 1993 and graduated, With Honors in May of 2000. I actually finished in December of 1999, but the graduation ceremonies weren’t until May of 2000. During the time that I was attending the community college I underwent eleven surgeries.
When I started attending the community college, I had planned on becoming a Registered Respiratory Therapist. I wanted to help people with breathing problems the same way that all of the respiratory care professionals helped me every time that I was rushed to the hospital or admitted for my breathing issues. However, in January of 1995, I ended up in a wheelchair and had to change my major. I had just been accepted into the respiratory care program. I was heartbroken. I chose computers. I didn’t think that there was any way possible to do respiratory care from a wheelchair. A person can do computers from a wheelchair. Once I ended up in a wheelchair, I had to start going to physical therapy in the pool at Cardinal Hill Rehabilitation Hospital. Medical appointments now took up more time than going to school did. I ended up in leg braces from up on my thighs clear under my feet. I had to trade in my car for a full sized van, as I could not steer my car correctly due to the braces hitting the steering wheel. Then I got to where I could no longer propel my wheelchair due to my orthopedic problems, I had to start using a scooter. This made it necessary for me to get someone to make a ramp to get my scooter in and out of my van. Luckily, this was during one of my surgeries, and my Mom and Pop were helping me while I was recuperating from it. My Pop made me a ramp for the van, a ramp to get into the patio in the back of my apartment, and a ramp to get into the apartment itself. I had paid $600 to have a ramp professionally built out the front of the apartment when I first moved in. Unfortunately that ramp was not wide enough for the scooter to make the turn into the front door of the apartment, so I was unable to use it. But I did not give up, I persevered.
My van needed some minor repairs on week, and I had to use the Red Cross Wheels Bus transportation. There were two very old buses that were still being used at the time. When the bus arrived to take me home from school, I was unlucky enough to get one of those buses. I had only had my scooter for less than six weeks. Unfortunately those older buses had shorter lifts than the newer buses did. Every time that I was on one of those buses I would have to very precariously place the front wheel of my scooter as close to the edge of the ramp as was possible without going off of the ramp. This had to be done very slowly and precisely. This particular day I was about one inch short. The bus driver told me to come forward very slowly. I barely touched the control switch to make the scooter move. As soon as I touched it, the scooter lurched forward and was hanging off of the front end of the ramp. The bus driver was hanging on to the front end of the scooter while trying to lower the lift and I was sitting back and leaning back as far as I could to try to make the scooter come backwards. By the grace of my gracious God, the driver and I were able to lower the lift, and the scooter with me on it, safely to the ground. I took the scooter the next day to the medical supply dealer where I had purchased it. They discovered that the potentiometer was malfunctioning and replaced it. Mine was the first one that had ever done that.
One day in September of 1997, when I was leaving school, I was about to push the scooter up into the van, but gave it a second thought. My abdomen was hurting from where I had had to have the first of my bladder surgeries, a few months earlier in April. I looked at the ramp leaning up against the back entrance to the van and looked at the scooter. After having pushed the scooter up into the van so many times, I knew that the ramp could handle the weight of the scooter and my weight also. It was at that moment that I decided to ride the scooter up into the van and duck my head as I was about to enter the van. Well, as I was saying that I could do it, gravity proved me wrong. The scooter and I both went rolling backwards down the ramp and the scooter and I ended up with me on my back looking up at the sky ant the back end of the scooter flat on the ground with the handle bar and controls pointing up to the sky as well. Luckily there were two men in the parking lot at the time. They were on different sides of the parking lot and both came running toward me. They both arrived at my side at the same time. They helped me up and asked me if I was hurt. I assured them that I wasn’t, and they proceeded to lift my scooter up into the van for me. After the scooter was safely in the van, they looked at each other and both agreed that they would have done the same thing. Once again, I did not give up, I persevered.
I called my Vocational Rehabilitation counselor when I arrived home and told her what had happened. She made arrangements to have a specialist in lifts, for scooters and wheelchairs, to look at my van the next day, and decide what would be the best route to go to alleviate the situation from happening again.
They were watching me push the scooter up into the van as it was starting to rain. I started slipping backwards with the scooter’s weight on the wet ramp. Everybody started grabbing me and the scooter to prevent another accident from happening right there in front of them. The decision was made to have a claw lift put in the back of the van. I took it to the installation business the next day and had the lift put in. They showed me how to secure the claw onto the T Bar under the seat of the scooter and gently push the scooter into the van as the lift was raising it up into the air. For whatever reason, the lift motor burned out in less than three months and another one had to be put in. They did some research and found out that the lift was not heavy duty enough for my scooter. Needless to say, the next lift was a heavy duty lift that was able to accommodate my scooter. Once again, I did not give up, I persevered.
After I graduated from the community college, I obtained a job working at Bank One in Lexington, Kentucky. My classes were done in December of 1999, and I started working in March of 2000. I graduated in May of 2000. Here is a picture of me at work one day.
During my employment I underwent seven surgeries. The most major one was the one where I received my artificial bladder. The second most major one was the artificial knee replacement of my left knee. Unfortunately after the seventh surgery, I lost my job.
I returned to work, after my seventh surgery, and went to sit down at my desk. My supervisor met me and told me not to sit down. She then went on to tell me that I no longer worked there, that I was too disabled to work and had to be absent for too many surgeries. They hired me because they needed somebody to work, nor somebody to be off so much for so many surgeries. And so my ability to work was proven to be an inability instead.
Up until that point I had always been able to say, very proudly, that I was not a quitter. I still do not consider myself a quitter, but I am obviously not employable due to my numerous medical issues.
My family and friends remind me all of the time that the SSDI that I receive is being paid for by them. I remind them that I worked up until I became disabled. Once my medical situation was brought under control. I went back to school, graduated WITH HONORS, got a job and started back to work. I tried as hard as I could. Unfortunately the work force deemed me to be too disabled, due to my numerous medical conditions and surgeries with the resulting absences, to be able to work. They informed me that I could no longer be depended on to be at work, that I was absent too much. Now I have to live with the constant reminder that other people pay for everything that I have. They tell me that I long ago exhausted any money that I contributed to the SSDI that I have been receiving. But I still try to persevere.
What aggravates me the most is that I have always fought to be able to keep going no matter what life has dealt me. But now I am no longer able to do that. The job force doesn’t want me anymore, because of something beyond my control. I have been deemed too disabled to work. And I cannot qualify for a Medicaid card to help with any of my medical expenses. Yes, I do have Medicare, but with all of my medical problems, I have so many medical bills that I am unable to pay the co-pays. And to know that a lazy butt person, like the one in the next section about WELFARE, can sit home on her lazy butt and keep popping out babies, so that the government will have to take care of them, just really aggravates me to the max. They get housing, food stamps and medical expenses, all paid for by the government. Maybe after reading the article and watching the video you will see why I am so aggravated about the whole thing. Hopefully, some day people like this lazy butt woman, will no longer be able to sit home having babies just to qualify for the government to take care of them for all of their sorry lazy butt lives. And yes, if you can’t tell, I am furious about the whole situation.
WELFARE – A payment that is not earned but is given to someone that has unexpectedly fallen on hard times. This payment is supposed to be for a limited amount of time. It was originally meant to help people to get back on their feetafter an unexpected hardship, as in the loss of a job, or loss of a residence due to acts of God as they are called, like tornadoes, floods, hurricanes, earthquakes, or forest fires.
Even though this is what WELFARE started out to be, it is not what it has ended up being. Now days it is a way for lazy butt people to sit back and have one illegitimate baby after another. By having the babies they qualify for government assistance which includes money for shelter, food stamps, medical care paid in full for all of the children, and money to buy the clothes and such for the children.
I have heard these young women talking on the bus about getting pregnant again because their youngest baby is now 18 months old and the oldest one is 5 years old, and the oldest one’s WIC benefits are about to run out. They can receive WIC benefits for the child until they are five years old. Even after the child is five, they will still receive housing and food stamps due to the number of dependents in the family. So up until the last baby turns eighteen, these lazy butt baby producing women will be supported by the government.
There was even a story, in December of 2014, about a woman that is now 30 years old and has never worked a day in her life. From her picture you can tell that she has nice things. She is single, has four children and has been on WELFARE since the day she turned 18 years old and graduated from High School. She has on what appears to be very expensive jewelry, and has numerous tattoos (and tattoos are not cheap). She even states in the article that she has no intention of going to work. My question is, “If she can afford the nice clothes, the jewelry and the tattoos, then why can’t she work to pay for it?” “Why does the government continue to pay for all of her basic needs.” “Why haven’t the children been taken away from her and her lazy butt been made to work?”
She says that she doesn’t need to work because she gets a check from the government every month. She receives $780 in food stamps, $500 in tennant payments, WIC, and Medicaid – which means all of her medical bills are paid in full and prescriptions only cost $1 each. She has even sold her food stamps for cash.
The woman in this video did not say if she smoked or drank, and of course would never admit to doing drugs even if she did them everyday. If the people on WELFARE can afford to smoke, drink, and do drugs, then they don’t deserve to receive WELFARE. Working people have worked hard, just to have part of their money taken away from them for lazy butt people like her. She sees no need to work and therefore does not work. I don’t know, but she looks very able to work to me. I mean, look at my picture.
Even with all of my limitations, and numerous surgeries, I completed school and then found a job and went to work. I arrived at my interview on a scooter with leg braces, wrist braces, a back brace, and a medical face mask on my face. They still hired me. If I can do it, then a lazy butt, well able bodied person, like her should HAVE to work also. She should not be allowed to stay on government assistance and keep bringing illegitimate children into this society for the government to have to take care of them as well.
Anybody can slip up and have an unexpected pregnancy. If they have a second baby, then they should have to consent to sterilization, so they cannot bring any more children into this society, and the second baby should be taken away. They should not be allowed to keep having babies, just so that they can keep receiving WELFARE. They know that as long as they have a child under five years old they will receive WIC and other government assistance. After all, the government won’t let an innocent child suffer because of their irresponsible parents. Any babies after the first one should be taken away and awarded to someone that can afford them. The government needs to stop rewarding lazy butt women for sitting at home on their lazy butts just popping out one baby after another one for the government to have to take care of. That is not what WELFARE was intended to do.
I will not hesitate to say that if sterilization after the second baby and the second baby being taken away was made law, then there would not be so many illegitimate babies and resulting government assistance being paid out. The government would save a lot of money that way. My point is that something has to be done. The situation with all of these lazy butt women popping out one illegitimate baby after another, so that they can receive government assistance and stay home on their lazy butt and not work, has got to stop. I bet that if some kind of study was done, the results would be that most of the delinquency, lawlessness, and violence is being done by these illegitimate children that did not have a proper father figure or any kind of proper training in their one lazy butt parent environment. Thus the circle continues and even avalanches like a small snowball keeps getting bigger and bigger, until the final explosion happens. Well people, wake up, the explosion is happening now!!!!!
I believe this with all of my heart. I had to have drug tests to work for my money, why shouldn’t lazy butt people have to have drug tests to receive money too?
This should be a law in all 50 states. If the working person has to pass drug tests to get and keep a job in order to earn their money, and part of their hard earned money is taken away to help unfortunate people and lazy butt people, then the freeloaders that spend the money, should have to pass drug tests also. They should have to have surprise tests too, just like the working person does. If they fail the test, then their benefits should stop. If children are involved, then the children should be taken away. Parents don’t need to do drugs when they have the responsibility of raising children.
I can’t imagine that I am the only person that feels the way that I do. We just have to find a way for this craziness, of just handing out money to lazy butt people, has to stop once and for all. I have a lot of disabled friends that have found jobs, so surely to goodness these able bodied people can find jobs too. I mean, look at my picture.
If I could find a job, with all of the things that I needed to have to work, they can too. I arrived at my interview on a scooter with leg braces, wrist braces, a back brace, and a medical face mask on my face. They still hired me. So tell me again why a perfectly able bodied person cannot find a job?
I saw these pictures on Facebook. I just thought they were so useful and unique that I would share them here. I do not know who originally posted them. Just know that none of them are mine.
The picture below shows a really unique way to hide your kitchen trash can, yet have it handy.
The pictures below are from an ad I saw in a flyer that came in the mail. It was from Closets by Design and the phone number is 800-500-9230. I did not get permission to show these pictures and they are not a sponsor of any of my websites. The pictures are of walk-in closets, and kitchens. They are so compact in their designs that I wanted to keep this for future reference in case I ever have the opportunity to be involved in the building of a new house. One thing is for sure, I will call them and find out what I can about what they have to offer if the opportunity ever arises.
Now you may be wondering why I even posted these pictures to begin with. My purpose in posting these pictures is two fold. One, they are of home improvements that may interest other readers to my blogs. Two, they represent a portion of my dreams for the future.
Dreams and hopes are very important to people. If you can’t have hopes, and dream about them, for the future, many people would probably feel like what is the use. We as a society have basically been conditioned since birth to never be satisfied with what you have accomplished. You should always strive for more. I’m not saying don’t be happy and proud of what you have accomplished. You should always be proud of your accomplishments. But if you don’t have any hopes and dreams for the future, then, basically, you no longer have the desire to thrive and live a full life.
I have heard all of my life, as long ago as I can remember that if you can’t have a goal to learn something new everyday, then you are giving up on life. Goals are made to achieve and to surpass with higher and loftier goals. Goals have to start out small, or it is likely that if you don’t accomplish any goals, then you will give up.
Believe it or not, even babies have “goals” so to speak as they are developing. True, these goals are usually accomplished with the help of parents, other family members, and friends. A baby usually passes these milestones within the first 12-18 months of life. First they focus on things and start grabbing for them and then actually grasp them in their little hands. Then they get where they can hold their head up, and before you know it they are turning over. Next thing you know they are sitting up, and sort of fall over and start crawling. While they are crawling, they start pulling up on things and just standing in place. Next thing you know, they see something in the distance that they want and they try to take a step toward it. They fall down, pull up again and try it again and again. And before you know it, they are walking and then running. While all of this is going on they are also making sounds with their mouth, and the sounds start actually forming words, and next thing you know, the babies are talking. All of this was accomplished by goals that the babies are not even aware yet such a thing exists. I don’t know just how old a child has to be before they understand the concept of having goals, but all of us have them everyday. They are necessary for us to live so far as I am concerned. If I couldn’t make goals and have dreams about those goals, then i would be a very unhappy person.
That is why I have posted these pictures. I have a dream that if I ever win the lottery (I Know I have to play it first) I will have my dream house built. The unique things in these pictures are things that I want in my house. Not exactly, mind you, but very similar. At least the pictures give the people that will build my house an idea of what I want to be in the house and where to start.
Think about it. Never stop making goals, and never stop dreaming. they help you to live a happier life.
I will put this notice on my post from now on, every time that I copy a post from Facebook, so all of my readers will know that this is not my work, but that of someone else. This, like so many of my posts have, came from Facebook. This is from a post titled This Blew My Mind. The URL is http://www.thisblewmymind.com, but it doesn’t take you to the website that I am talking about. I copied the post below so that you could read what the slide show had on it.
(The video is a series of typed printed slides. I went through the whole video and copied them down on paper and have rewritten them below the second “This Blew My Mind.”)
Does this bring back good childhood memories for you?
What was your favorite thing to do as a child?
Share with friends and family, take them for a ride down memory lane. http://www.thisblewmymind.com This Blew My Mind
Close Your Eyes…..And Go Back.
GO BACK.
….Before the internet or PC or the MAC….
….Before semi-automatics and crack….
….Before Playstation, SEGA, Super Nintendo, even before Atari….
….Before cell phones, CDs, DVDs, voicemail and e-mail….
….Go way back, way…..way….way back.
I’m talkin’ bout hide and seek at dusk
Red light, Green light
Red Rover….Red Rover….
Playing kickball & dodgeball until the first…no…second…no…third
street light came on
Ring around the Rosie
London Bridge
Hot Potato
Hop Scotch
Jump Rope
You’re It!!
Parents stood on the front porch and yelled (or whistled) for you to
come home – no pagers or cell phones.
Take One Giant Step….May I?
Seeing shapes in the clouds.
Endless summer days and hot summer nights (no A/C) with the windows open.
The sound of crickets.
Running through the sprinkler.
Cereal boxes with that GREAT prize in the bottom.
Cracker Jacks with the same thing.
Ice Pops with 2 sticks you could break and share with a friend.
.. but wait….there’s more…
Watching Saturday morning cartoons Tom and Jerry, serial adventures, Captain Midnight,
Cisco Kid, The Lone Ranger, Boston Blackie.
Catchin’ lightning bugs in a jar
Christmas morning
Your first day of school.
Bedtime Prayers and Goodnight Kisses.
Climbing trees.
Swinging as high as you could in those long swings to try and reach the sky.
A million mosquito bites and sticky fingers.
Jumpin’ down the steps.
Jumpin’ on the bed.
Pillow fights.
Runnin’ home from the western movie you just saw ’til you were out of breath.
Laughing so hard your stomach hurt.
Being tired from PLAYING.
WORK: meant taking out the garbage, cutting the grass, washing the car, or doing the dishes.
Your first crush.
Your first kiss (I mean the one that you kept your mouth CLOSED and your eyes OPEN).
Rainy days at school and the smell of damp concrete and chalk erasers.
Oh, I’m not finished yet….
Kool-Aid was the drink of the summer, so was a swig from the hose.
Giving your friends a ride on your handlebars of your bike.
Attaching pieces of cardboard to your bike frame to rub against your spokes.
Wearing your new shoes on the first day of school.
Class field trips with soggy sandwiches.
When nearly everyone’s mom was at home when the kids got there from school.
When a quarter seemed like a fair allowance, and another quarter a MIRACLE.
When ANY parent could discipline ANY kid, or feed him, or use him to carry groceries….
And nobody, not even the kid, thought a thing of it.
When your parents took you to the cafeteria and it was a real treat.
When being sent to the principal’s office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited
you at home.
Basically, we were in fear for our lives but it wasn’t because of drive by shootings, drugs,
gangs, etc. We simply did not want our parents to get mad at us.
Didn’t that feel good? Just to go back and say, “Yeah, I remember that!” Well let’s keep
going!..
Let’s go back to the time when….
Decisions were made by going “eeny-meeny-miney-mo”
Mistakes were corrected by simply exclaiming, “do over!”
“Race Issues” meant arguing about who ran the fastest.
Catching fireflies could happily occupy an entire evening.
It wasn’t odd to have two or three “best” friends.
The worst thing you could catch from the opposite sex was cooties.
Nobody was prettier than Mom.
Scrapes and bruises were kissed by mom and made better.
Getting a foot of snow was a dream come true.
Abilities were discovered because of a “double-dog-dare”
Spinning around, getting dizzy and falling down was cause for giggles.
The worst embarrassment was being picked last for a team.
Water balloons were the ultimate, ultimate weapon.
If you can remember most or all of these, then you have lived during a more pleasant
simpler time!
I wonder how many of you that I have sent this to remember all of these things. I know some
of you are my vintage.
The slide show has ended.
Those of you who remember will have lived in an era that no one else will ever experience. The era has passed and slowly those of us who lived it are passing also. If you do not remember, then ask your parents, grandparents, or great grandparents. We went from am radio to the stars. Your era is here, be part of it. Make it worthwhile for future generations to build on.
I grew up during that time. Most of “playtime” included using sticks or rocks as different things like a sword or a chair for your doll to sit on. We used to mix up dirt, flowers, leaves and water for “supper” for our dolls. There was no such thing as plastic food back then.
Television was in black and white and had tubes that made them run and they burned out quite often. There were only three channels besides the Public Broadcast Station (PBS). Color TV had not been invented yet either. That would come in 1969. FM radio had not even been discovered or invented, or whatever you call it.
old television insides
picture tube from old television
individual TV tubes
Records came in three sizes and speeds, which were 78 RPMs, 45 RPMs, and 33 and 1/3 RPMs. RPM -Revolutions Per Minute. Even the hole in the middle of the records was a different size for each speed. Notice the difference in the pictures of the records below. You can even see the little funny shaped disc in the middle of the one that is 33 and 1/3 record so that it could be played on a regular record player. You either had to put the disc in the middle of each record or a special attachment on the record player itself to be able to play the 33 and 1/3 records. If you didn’t want a whole phonograph player, you could buy just a turntable to play the records with.
this is a 78 RPM record
this is a 45 RPM record
this is a 33 and 1/3 RPM record
disc insert for 33 and 1/3 records
attachments that go on phonograph or turntable
record player with attachment
turntable without attachment
Telephones had a hand held receiver and a base with a dial pad that had 10 holes in it and it was numbered from 0 to 9, and you put your finger in the hole corresponding to the number you wanted to call and then turned the dial to the right until it came all the way around to the stopper.
Those were the days when parents could actually discipline their children. When you did something wrong your Mom, Dad, or whoever would call you to them to be punished. You knew if they only called your first name you could wait a little while before you had to go running to them. If they added your middle name to it when you were called, you had better not wait too long to go, but if they called your FULL NAME, you knew you had better get there as fast as you could because the longer you waited, the worse it would be. And if you were one that had your legs hit with a switch, you better pick a switch of the right size, or they would pick it for you. You learned really quickly what size of a switch to pick. Once the proper switch was picked, you got three hits on the back of your legs and that was it. At least that was how it was done if it was done properly. Of course there were always the parents that went overboard and actually beat and/or whipped their children unmercifully, and some would actually draw blood. Those were the parents that got in trouble by the police.
Things were a lot different back then in other ways too. It didn’t seem like people were as mean back then as they are now. Religion was practiced a lot more then. You actually had nice pretty clothes to wear to Sunday School and to Church, as well as dress shoes. Parents took their children to church and they went to their classes and the children went to their classes. Once the children were old enough, they went to the Church service with their parents and the whole family sat together in Church. Of course, this was before the days of Madeline O’Hare when people were free to talk openly about their religious beliefs and Bible reading, The Lord’s Prayer and The Pledge Of Allegiance to the USA were done at the start of every day at school. Unfortunately, ever since Madeline O’Hare had anything religious taken out of the schools and any place else that she could, the USA has been going downhill.
I feel like if only we could go back to that time, then things would be a lot better than what they are now. But, since we can’t go back to that time, at least the ones of us that grew up back then can have fond memories to fall back on when we think about our childhood.
I will put this notice on my post from now on, every time that I copy a post from Facebook, so all of my readers will know that this is not my work, but that of someone else. This, like so many of my posts have, came from Facebook. I hope you like the stand that Ben Stein has taken on the politically correctness or incorrectness of the two words Merry Christmas.
Apparently the White House referred to Christmas Trees as Holiday Trees for the first time this year, which prompted CBS presenter, Ben Stein, to present this piece which I would like to share with you.
The following was written by Ben Stein and recited by him on CBS Sunday Morning Commentary.
My confession:
I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejewelled trees, Christmas trees. I don’t feel threatened. I don’t feel discriminated against. That’s what they are, Christmas trees.
It doesn’t bother me a bit when people say, ‘Merry Christmas’ to me. I don’t think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn’t bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a nativity scene, it’s just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.
I don’t like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don’t think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from, that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can’t find it in the Constitution and I don’t like it being shoved down my throat.
Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship celebrities and we aren’t allowed to worship God? I guess that’s a sign that I’m getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where these celebrities came from and where the America we knew went to.
In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it’s not funny, it’s intended to get you thinking.
Billy Graham’s daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her ‘How could God let something like this happen?’ (regarding Hurricane Katrina). Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, ‘I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we’ve been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives.And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?’
In light of recent events… terrorist attacks, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O’Hare (she was murdered, her body found a few years ago) complained she didn’t want prayer in our schools, and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.
Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn’t spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock’s son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he’s talking about. And we said okay.
Now we’re asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don’t know right from wrong, and why it doesn’t bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.
Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with ‘WE REAP WHAT WE SOW.’
Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world’s going to hell.
Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says.
Funny how you can send ‘jokes’ through e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing.
Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.
Are you laughing yet?
Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you’re not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it.
Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.
Pass it on if you think it has merit.
If not, then just discard it…. no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don’t sit back and complain about what a bad shape the world is in.
I have felt like this ever since the Madeleine Murray O’Hare ruling was passed to take prayer out of school. But what could I do? I was only a child then. One of the innocent victims of the horrid crime against God. We all know the resulting snowball effect and the now approaching avalanche of things related to God and religion that are being taken away from us Christians. I just wish there was some way to stop it. My prayer right now is that this post by Ben Stein will go viral and then maybe things will start reversing and the OLD AMERICA that I knew as a child before the Madeleine Murray O’Hare ruling will come back. It will take a miracle, but God deals in miracles for those that believe in Him everyday. Thank you Ben Stein for taking this stand even though you are of the Jewish faith. You are a great man for doing it. I’m not only praying for a miracle, I am trusting God to deliver one in His own perfect time.
old television insides
picture tube from old television
individual TV tubes
this is a 78 RPM record
this is a 45 RPM record
this is a 33 and 1/3 RPM record
disc insert for 33 and 1/3 records
attachments that go on phonograph or turntable
record player with attachment
turntable without attachment
