Monday, January 21, 2008

Hit, Again

At about 11:10 p.m., my son and I were just now hit.

My son woke up to writhe and suck his thumb and cry. He couldn't stop. I could hear his stomach without my ear anywhere near it. He passed gas and it was foul.

I felt the hit at the exact same time. My head with a pressure crackling and then my stomach. I felt the sickness and the gas. I was on 3X the amount of medication because I'm having a migraine. I was sleeping well until my son and I woke the same time and then my migraine was worse.

My son took a bottle. I notice I and my son both feel dehydrated and thirsty at these times.

Some others were going down the hall to their rooms at the same time. Makes me wonder...But they were here before me, I think. Need to check. Certain it's from outside but I don't see or hear cars.

Someone will try to kill us next. And no one is doing anything to help us; won't believe this is real. Someone needs to monitor what's going on where I live with a satellite or something.

It's the Tazers

The horrible problems are definitly from some kind of stun gun and/or other radiation. I noticed I have had some of the sudden ache/pain problems while on the road in my car, but nothing like AT home, where I was so dizzy and almost passed out and then my vision is blurry. I did a google search for effects of stun guns, and several medical things came up. It absolutely fits. I'll put the links here. What's sad is that my son has been affected as well.

I left the house and decided we needed a vacation. So we are somewhere else. Perhaps we will return soon if there is no reason to make me want to stay away. If so, we will return by Feb. 4, 2008.

In the meantime, while on the road, TWICE both my son and I jerked and my son cried out loud from our seats in the car. He began sucking his thumb and whimpering and I felt immediate pain and the ache and severe stomach problems that feel like ulcers and upset. It's like something is burning inside. Most of the time on the road, no problems, but this happened when there was a car behind us, very close, and I pulled over to let them pass, or when someone was passing by. I have been literally almost going nuts trying to figure out the source of the health problems. I blame my narcotics, and then blame something else. I've been so confused and everything seems too unreal. But it's very real and we've suffered enough.

I haven't been able to function as a normal person the pain and then weaknesses is so great. So, I got us out of the house, and took the narcotics as directed, and felt normal. Until we got "hit" at the same time. I knew it wasn't the medication because I had taken them and my general chronic pain had subsided. They were working, though I felt I still needed Advil and Tylenol. We were hit before I took the painpills and afterwards, and both times, the severity of the pain lasted about a 1/2 hour.

I noticed something strange when I pulled into a new town. It is far away from where we go normally, and as I was driving an isolated road, I noticed this guy driving by, looking at me. I felt the shock of pain and my son too, right when he was behind me and starting to drive by. And then he wanted to look at me. I was shocked because HE was the same guy I saw doing this same thing, almost a year ago, when my son quit talking and we were having similar problems. My grandfather says I never mentioned having these problems before, but for one thing, it was NEVER as severe as in the last 3 months or more, AND, I DID recognize something was wrong, because when we started having lots of pain and ache and inexplicable muscle cramps and twitching, my son and I both, almost seizure like, a year ago, I called poison control later or an EPA type organization and asked about organophosphates or something that could cause this. I wasn't thinking, then, that it could be radiation of some kind, and/or combined stun gun. Anyway, when I saw this same guy then, he did the same thing, drove behind for a long time, and then pulled away and last time he was laughing in a hateful way. I don't know how to describe it. This time, he wasn't laughing. He looked serious, and guilty. It was like he was looking for the expressions on our faces, or our reactions. He drove a 70s style sedan that was maroon and he had brown hair in a ponytail, in his 40s or more. He looks very native american but maybe something else. Angular face.

Then I got to our "vacation home" and we had ZERO of the suffering we were having at my house. I might add, none of the traffic either. It was gone. All the pain and weird stuff was completely gone. Until 4:00 a.m. exactly last night. My son woke with a start, crying out and jerking with pain. He cried for awhile and took a bottle, arching his back. I could hear his stomach gurgling. I've noticed his and my stomach hurt and gurgle when this happens, but it's not like hunger pains. We've already eaten usually, and it's a faster and more active type of activity. And for me, it feels like the lining is burning up with acid. From pelvis to just below ribcage. So it happened at 4 a.m. and I wondered where it came from. Went back to bed. Happened again at exactly 5 a.m. Same response in my son. Then at 6 a.m., and finally, at 7 a.m. 4 times, exactly one hour apart. I knew it wasn't my medication. My medication doesn't "wear off" on an hourly basis and my SON doesn't wake up screaming or whimpering in pain, on a schedule like that. I knew someone knew where we were. After the first "hit", I heard others next door wake up and talk too. Others in the house, who had been sleeping soundly before. We all woke at the same time. Of course, I'm not going to ask them about it or explain it--it was probably random for them but I knew the feelings.

So I knew if someone kept doing this, others would feel it too. If it's not directed precisely or can't be. And all day today, neither my son nor I have had ANY of the pain and suffering we were having before, or bad aches and stomach pangs. This is completely not normal AND I still have the same medication, which is a narcotic, and it was working FINE, like it should and normally, barring the other bizarre stuff, does. So I knew I could completely rule out these meds. I'm not on anything except narcotics! Or maybe Neurontin? I don't know...All I know is that regardless, the horrible pain, which comes like a "hit" and disappears very slowly while causing severe pain, is not caused by my medication. And, that guy who was so interested in mocking me and driving alongside my car yesterday, was the same one from a year ago, not that only one person is involved. I know more than one individual is involved in this.

I think about an incident at Walmart. I was standing in line at the return counter. I was holding my son, and he was holding a balloon. They had just blown the balloon up and given it to him. A regular non-mylar yellow balloon. I was facing forward and took the balloon from my son and held it close to my chest, with the string taught. Someone behind me asked me a question and I turned to answer. As my body turned to answer this person, the balloon popped for no reason. It wasn't tangled and no one touched it. It was like someone hit it with a pin. The crazy part, is that some guy was down on the end of the room, and HE jumped a little when I looked at him right when the balloon popped. He was holding something inside his jacket and closed it up and turned. He looked caught but I didn't know why. It was so weird. He had the guiltiest look on his face. It crossed my mind that someone had just shot a thin dart my way, or SOMETHING, because of his reaction, like he knew he'd done something, and looked on the floor but nothing was on the floor. All alone, this anecdone doesn't stand up to anything, but put all of these experiences together, and it will form a picture.

Also, this day and yesterday were major stressful days. But no weird pains for the entire day, unlike before when I couldn't hardly breathe anymore without pain.

I have to go back and refer to this last sentence. It is now 5:15 p.m. Right after I started writing the above sentence, at exactly 5:00 p.m., my son woke in the next room screaming. I am at the other end of the house. I got up and went to him and he was sitting crouched over, head down, sobbing, and still. I went to him and he arched his back and acted like he was in pain. I wondered if someone targeted that side and it didn't reach me. I'm not saying my son and I don't have pain at different times, of course not, but I am starting to realize his tummy hurts and this gurgling thing is from whatever hits him. I can tell the difference between a temper tantrum and pain response. In my own son, whom I'm with all day, every day, of course. I put my head to his tummy and he cringed and cried out, as if it hurt to touch or apply pressure. He cried and arched his back like this, for 10 minutes and then calmed down and I could hear his tummy. I could hear his tummy without putting my ear to it.

This stuff is not normal. It's just that by the time I get me or my son to the ER, the worst of the pain is gone and we start to feel normal, as if nothing's wrong at all. It takes about 20 minutes to get from my old house to the ER, and after we wait through getting checked in and into a room, it's been 40 minutes to an hour and we feel 70% better. Unless it's been happening all day, and in that case, I'm miserable the whole time. I could STILL feel some relief getting away, but then the other day, we went back to the house, and some traffic was going by, and it was all day. I was in so much pain and cramping, and severe, severe, ache and weakness, I couldn't function.

I got away and now we're fine?! Except for specific "hits"? In general, in the last day, I and my son, we've had a couple of hits at night, last night, and maybe my son just now, not totally sure about just now...but my strength is coming back, and my health restored and the narcotics WORK and I'm not acting like a raving lunatic? I mean, I get so sick, that now, when I feel better, I realize I'm totally disoriented. I'm so out of it and confused and then have extreme mood swings. My son too. But then I get away and feel rational and things make sense?

I thought the medications were killing me. Killing my back and spine and stomach. The doctors wrote me off, saying the pain was in my head and thinking it was weird I was saying my son had it at the same time. The medications were not killing me. They work on normal pain. But we/are having abnormal pain. This kind of thing is used in warfare, to disable but not kill people. But it can kill too. Someone has been trying, I believe, to torture me and my son. I am positive his loss of speech is because of this. There is no way he could keep language when his brain and neurowaves were being scrambled and fried.

I read up on the effects of stun guns/Tasers, and it fits. It may be something a little different, or smaller, or maybe a couple of things put together that do slightly different things. I will post the links to the information about the health effects of these kinds of weapons,

Sunday, January 20, 2008

NOT on Antipsychotic Drugs

I found out, no, I'm not taking an antipsychotic drug. But the pain was so severe and I became so ill again, that I went to the ER last night. I am finding that it takes about a half hour away from this house, to feel better (symptoms to go away) if I'm feeling the symptoms in a mild-moderate way. It is NOT my chronic pain stuff. This is different and the reason I vacillate about what is in the narcotics, is because they don't work AT ALL when I have the other nausea and pain. Last night my entire stomach felt like it was one big ulcer but then it went away after an hour away from the house. My stress doesn't "change" getting away from this house. I love living out here and it has nothing to do with my mindset or stress. It's not a reaction to cabin fever because I'm perfectly happy to be at home. I am noticing EVERY single time I get away from the house, such as spending a night somewhere else, both I AND my son feel better. We don't have muscle spasms and my son has no pain and isn't fussy.

I spend a night away from the house and my entire health returns to normal and the narcotics "work" like narcotics and fix the regular chronic pain. But as soon as I come back to the house, the extreme backache and other things come back. It doesn't add up.

I have almost BECOME crazy, just trying to figure out the source and reason for I and my sons symptoms. It has to do with something in this environment or something that targets this environment, because elsewhere we are fine.

There is no such thing as a "haunted house", but given all the hacking problems, I have seen the evidence for harassment. If someone or some group is that interested in sitting on my line or watching and waiting for me to bring a new computer home to hack before I'm ever online, someone has a serious interest in causing distress and problems for us.

I don't know what it is that causes, exactly, the pain and feelings of being "hit" when it happens. All I know is that it only happens here, and is so bad I feel like I'm dying and my son too.

That's the whole story on the narcotics and pain. I try this medication outside of the house and it doesn't really seem to work like the narcotics used seems more like a Neurontin or something, but the other weird stuff does NOT happen.

I have been back at the house less than 15 minutes and already I'm feeling the stomach upset, that feels like ulcers in the lining of my stomach, severe and deep back and spine ache, some crackling sensation in my head, and other stomach pain. My son was also very happy and energetic before and within 10 minutes, he was holding his stomach. AND his battery operated toy was going off by itself about 5 minutes ago and he wasn't near it. Whatever is being used to trigger battery operated toys, I believe, is triggering the health problems. And, like the computer tech said, it has to be something very powerful, sophisticated, and hazardous to our health.

There is no explanation for feeling doubled up when I come back here. I love living out here. THere are no negative associations. Even if we are in the car driving around or in a family member's house all alone, we are fine.

Set Up By The Catholic Church & FBI: Some Names and Connections

I went to the ER because of the "hit" and as soon as I get there, I'm thinking, no, this has to be these crappy meds. Because I tried to take a little "Percocet" after feeling severe pain (which is what I mean when I say hit) and dizziness, and it is going to my head again and making me feel worse. I am finding myself trying not to grind my teeth. This has to be some kind of major antipsychotic drug.

I found something else out. I JUST NOW found legal papers at my door (I come through my front door, not the side door where the papers were) and it's a legal thing from Dr. Freed's clinic for injunction. He claims I disturb the peace. All this, after I have problems with these guys first.

I'm sick to my stomach because now I know for a fact that I am, indeed, on some heavy drug, and Dr. Freed is the one who prescribed it. HE and his clinic have filed this legal action and HE dares to act as my PCP and put me on something that makes me weak, sick, and unable to function. I hurt so bad, every day. But he put me on this crap, knowing it hurts me, and here he is with MOTIVE.

If I felt better, I could explain all the things that happened to ME by these medical professionals, when I first came into town. But I'm very, very, sick, and it isn't me and it's not my fault but these medications and no one except Freed is handling this. The other doctors WANTED Freed to be on my care, because they knew from the start he would work with them and against me.

All of this works for his lawyers and what they want to do. I told my parents long ago, when I first had problems with ANYONE, which was Catholic church clergy, that what this church and their lawyers were doing and did to me would snowball and allow other people to do the same thing, and point fingers at me. I have predicted, ahead of time, almost every single thing that has happened to me and my son. I knew I needed a lawyer a long, long, time ago.

Then, this church used FBI that was also Catholic, to malign me further, and I was set up. I found out some MAJOR links between Catholic church lawyers, a former "friend" I had, and a couple of FBI individuals who introduced themselves to me in 2004, and assaulted me. They were connected, and some by marriage. This friend that I thought was my friend, obtained information from me for over 6 years, to use against me. I even had medical records disappear from my house after she stayed the night, but I didn't suspect her. I told her I was moving out of the area and would start over elsewhere and prove that all the problems were with the Catholic church, and not ME. She asked where I was going, what my plans were, who I would stay with, names of people I knew, medical community connections...She wanted to know everything ahead of time so they could plant seeds in Wenatchee to make sure my life was screwed up here by planting the right people to say the wrong things and write crap into my record.

If they could get others, especially seemingly "non-catholic" groups to malign me and believe the disinformation, they would get off and be justified for what they did to me, some of which was criminal.

I knew about the politics and yet because what I've been through is so beyond the experiences of most people, I knew hardly anyone would be able to relate.

At this point, I am completely screwed. It is even too late to bring out the crap I know about the FBI and catholic church lawyer connections. I don't even have time. I know what's coming ahead.

Here are some names, since I may not have enough time to write the whole timeline:

1. Br. Ansgar Santogrossi, OSB and Fr. Joachim McCann, OSB (clergy with family ties to the East Coast and high positions within the catholic church),

2. Abbot Nathan Zodrow. Zodrow was raised in Waterville, WA, which is right next to Wenatchee, and he has connections in this area. He was/is the Abbot for the monastery where Ansgar and Joachim were, and where my problems began,

3. Christa Schneider. The "friend" and great actress who pretended to be born again and yet was working for the catholic church lawyers all along. I found out in November 2007 that she had never lived in Eugene, OR, for the year she told me she did, and hadn't lived in New York at the exact time she said she was there. She had been in Portland, Oregon all along, working for the Catholic church lawyer and lying to me. Her parents are Debra and Rob Schneider, of Wilsonville, OR. Rob Schneider used to be a U.S. Prosecuting Attorney and is now in business. They are all baptized catholic but showed up at my protestant church after I started having problems with the monastery guys. I noticed them because the church was small. I remember the exact day I saw them and what year it was: 2000. Christa has tried to place herself at the church or in my life BEFORE I met the monks, but it was afterwards. She is directly connected to Dick Whittemore and his family and all her friends are Catholic and have some roots in catholic fraternal groups. Everything I told Christa was leaked to the lawyers and I didn't suspect her for sure until a year ago when she wrote me an email telling me to call her because she'd met some undercover spies in New York and knew I'd be interested in hearing about it. She is a rational person who wouldn't believe in an undercover spy revealing himself to her, but the email was a mockery. I had met the FBI guys, Raul Bujanda and Armando Garza, after I told Christa my last dream was to join the FBI and work as a lawyer to kill corporate crime. I was in the top 10% of my college and almost halfway through my Senior year of college with honors. I was planning to apply to law school and then join the FBI through the lawyer-referral program. Right after I told her this, when she knew I would be at a courthouse at a particular time, Raul Bujanda, an FBI agent from the Portland field office, was there and introduced himself to me. Then he said he wanted me to meet his "boss", Armando Garza, as if they were recruiting me. Garza told me they WERE recruiting me and asked me to have tequila shots with him (I figured it was business bonding in a way), got me drunk, and then instead of dropping me off at my apartment as I asked, they forced their way into my apartment and sexually assaulted me. For the longest time I didn't even know that what they had done was considered sexual assault. I thought maybe it was misconduct but didn't learn about the definition and the law until over a year later, in December 2006, when I sought the assistance of a domestic abuse/rape crisis worker and learned what had happened to me was not just "internal misconduct" as the FBI put it to me, but "Sex Abuse" in the 1st, according to Oregon law. Christa worked hard to get me to start drinking by going out with her and buying me drinks (I never drank until I met her, which was when I was 26 years old) and tried to get me to smoke too. I ended up drinking some, but never took up smoking. She also set me up in several dangerous situations where I was under the influence, and arranged for another rich Catholic church member/friend of Whittemore's, to try to seduce me. His name was Beau Blixseth and he was in my classes every term and took me out and tried to get me to have a fling with him and take hotel rooms, etc., while he still had a longtime girlfriend.

3 b. Beau Blixseth's father is Tim Blixseth, who is a billionare and on Forbes' list in the top 10 richest people in the United States. Beau told me his first girlfriend was Paris Hilton. He told me about Paris before she was famous/infamous, and Paris is also baptized Catholic and her family, grandfather, donated almost the entire family fortune to be managed by the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, through the Conrad Hilton fund. Beau Blixseth's grandparents retired at the Mt. Angel Towers, a retirement home that Fr. Joachim McCann, the priest I knew who counseled me for one year, managed and provided pastoral services for. All the residents of Mt. Angel Towers knew Fr. Joachim.

4. Sgt. Rich Austria, with the Portland Police, worked with the Portland FBI to snow and bury my complaint against Bujanda and Garza. Bujanda, I know, worked on joint taskforces with the Portland police. He may have known Austria. At any rate, Austria communicated with the FBI and it went all the way to the top officials at the Portland field office. The entire objective was to discredit me and blow me off, which they did. I found out Rich Austria is directly connected to the Catholic church lawyers and is connected to Knights of Columbus. The Catholic church lawyers were John Kaempf and Richard (Dick) J. Whittemore.

5. Richard Whittemore, lawyer for Catholic church. Whittemore was not only working on the West Coast but had lived near the Thebaults, before that, in New Jersey. Whittemore represented the monastery in Oregon I had contact with, which was Mt. Angel Abbey, a Benedictine Order. In New Jersey, the Thebaults sent their kids to a Benedictine private school, run by Benedictine monks. Fr. Joachim asked me for a list of all my former employers, right before troubles began and he started threatening me, telling me he was going to help me figure out what kind of career I would be most suited to. He wanted a complete resume. He also wanted my social security number and that monastery obtained it from me. Later, they had my SS# confirmed when Christa Schneider got me a "job" working for her Dad, and they were only interested in seeing my SS card. They kept pressuring me for it, and when I gave it to them, the same or next day they fired me. When I asked for a W2 form for taxes for the time I'd worked there, they tried to refuse me one. I insisted. It was only in November of this year, 2007, that I confirmed their connections with the Catholic church lawyers. Every single one of Christa's friends, besides me (and I wasn't a friend, really) was Catholic and connected to Whittemore. Whittemore was a neighbor to FBI agent Raul Bujanda. They were all Catholic and went to the same parish. When Bujanda found out I'd make a formal complaint about him to the FBI, the day after the assault incidence, he called me up and tried to persuade me to go out with him again, telling me he had a trinket, a necklace, for me. I had told Christa that no one had ever given me real jewelry before except earrings, right before that. She asked what the best gift any guy could ever give me would be and I told her a necklace. Next thing I know, I'm being baited with a necklace. They were connected all along. Whittemore lied about me to a Catholic newspaper journalist for The Willamette Week and persuaded her to twist a story about me for purposes of disinformation and to defame me. She did, and her name is Amy Roe. She was Catholic and told me so, spitefully, after she wrote the article and it was published. She published things that she knew were flat out lies and refused to check evidence when I told her it wasn't true that I'd ever written a piece of sexually graphic email to ANYone, much less any monk.

6. John Kaempf, Catholic church lawyer who contacted Gerald Warren in Wenatchee to bury me through legal processes over here. Warren's wife is in charge of a division of Catholic Charities of Washington and Kaempf is on the Board of Catholic Charities in Oregon; Catholic Charities is a national organization. Kaempf lived (moved) right next to me in Tualatin when my problems with the monks began. I didn't know it though, until much later. He stalked me and showed up places I went to (I realized later he knew ahead of time where I would be because of Christa).

7. Karin Whittemore/FBI, New York. Related by marriage to Dick Whittemore, whose husband's father is in the New York FBI field offices. Her married name is Whittemore. Dick Whittemore has family connections to the FBI. I found this out in November of 2007. I found out my childhood friend Stephanie Maiers, who was friends with Karin, had been fed a bunch of lies by Karin, and that Karin directly knew Christa Schneider, my supposed friend. I went to a bridal shower for Stephanie in Seattle, in October of 2006, and Karin was there. Ahead of time, I'd told Christa I was going to this shower, who it was for, etc. Christa wanted to know what I was going to wear and how I was doing my hair, exactly. She also wanted to know what I would give Stephanie for a shower gift if I could afford it. I told her I would get Stephanie a crystal vase from Tiffany's. When I arrived, Karin stayed close to me and approached me, wearing the exact same thing I told Christa I was planning to wear (but didn't, due to last minute change of plans). The dress was almost identical. It was leopard print, knee-length, with a V-neck, and Karin had done her hair up in a ponytail, curled, as I told Christa I was planning to do (but didn't). Karin gave Stephanie a crystal vase from Tiffany's and I noticed she watched ME when Stephanie was opening the gift. Karin sat across from me at dinner and started talking about broken tailbones and how she had one and just used a doughnut cushion. I hadn't told Karin I had been trying to get an X-ray in Wenatchee for a broken tailbone, but it was like she knew. I'd told Christa, but not Karin. When Karin said her husband's father was in the FBI, I asked what the name was. She avoided my question twice, and then the third time she said "Whittemore" which is what her now married name is. She hadn't wanted me to make the connection that she was related, by marriage, to DICK Whittemore, or connected in anyway to Christa Schneider, who was working for Whittemore and was friends with his daughter. The only reason she told me was because Steph's family was sitting there and would have noticed if she'd tried to avoid it again or lied. Karin took Stephanie out for breakfast before she left for Brooklyn, New York (where she lives) and when Steph came back, I was accused of lying about a number of things, by my former best friend whom I'd known and kept in touch with for over 15 years. When I got home to Wenatchee, I called Christa and told her everything. Christa had one question: why hadn't I worn the leopard print dress I'd told her I was going to wear? She and Karin had set it up so that Karin and I would be wearing the same thing and have our hair done the same way. Just bizarre.

There is so much more. But this is the appetizer, because a lot of money and power went into harassing me and then causing problems for me in Wenatchee, where they knew I was going next. Dr. Parnell was one doctor who was in on it and I can prove it.


We're going to die before someone believes me.

My son and I just woke up at the same time with severe pain. I have the crackling sensation in my head/ears and my stomach is extremely painful and sore. My son woke up crying out and arched his body and I gav him a bottle which he took. He continued to whimper and cry. This happened about 5 minuytes ago exactly.

These are e bombs (?), or stunning things or something. It sounds weird, but someone has to know. I have the pain in my pelvis and spine and the gas too. Which is weird, but those are the symptoms...the need to use the bathroom. Extreme abdominal pain. Exact same thing with my son.

This sounds weird but I'm wondering if these guys are Irish/from Ireland. I told a "friend" I'd thought was my friend for years, who I just found out, right before this last Thanksgiving, had been working for the catholic church lawyers all along, that maybe the only ones who could understand were people, catholic or protestant, living in Ireland. I said maybe I would look some Protestants up and ask questions. Maybe SHE looked others up instead. I told her this while I still lived in Oregon.

I didn't have the extreme back pain, joint pain, spine and stomach pain until right now. I didn't move but I felt the "hit" nad my son DID move and woke up from sound sleep, like me, at the exact same time.

This is extremely painful. It was a bad one and my stomach and back hurt with a very, very, deep ache. My son isn't sleeping yet either, and not okay.

I have noticed a light tan, large truck, going back and forth past the house, followed by a sedan, over the last week or more. There is hardly any traffic this time of night, past my house. But the ones going by are the same ones. Yet they're too far away to get a license.

I just put my head to my son's stomach and there is massive activity, just like there is in mine. It's curdling in there...extremely upset and now he's crying. I feel the same thing.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Weight of the World

If a doctor is going to put you on a medication without your consent, which makes a person sick, weak, and without any pain management, which also affects your BRAIN, you'd think someone could throw in a housekeeper too.

I feel completely sick. Because of all the crap with doctors over here, who keep calling CPS for their own political objectives, I was told I have to let them into my house to "inspect"...but get this, they tell me they're giving me "3 days to clean your house". Since when does CPS give people "3 days to clean house?" The last offers from CPS are as follows: 1. A one-way bus ticket out of the state for me and my son, courtesy joint ventures of Central Washington Hospital ER staff and CPS, and 2. an offer for me to have a mental health evaluation by the provider of my choice. They dropped that last one after I said I wanted records as to who made the last report and time to find a lawyer. In the meantime, I was looking up psychoanalysts in New York City. I figured if it comes down to the "provider of your choice" bit again, I'll go for the best. And forget a basic testing. Why not go for the whole couch therapy thing? maybe someone could analyze my dreams too and we could go over the symbolism in Woody Allen movies too. Only, I want popcorn and I want to eat it on the couch. Actually, if CPS really wants to help, when they are fully aware of the situation, they could make a NORMAL and practical offer for once, such as: "We'd like to provide you with a housekeeper while your doctors jerk you around, to allow you to focus on your child, is that okay with you?"

At any rate, it's pretty sick that I'm being asked to "clean house" when I'm on medications I didn't consent to, which make me weak, sick, and cause me to suffer pain all day. I think about my pain every 5 minutes and neat new side effects too. And I still have to take 1,000 mg. Advil and 1,000 mg. Tylenol 3x/day on top of it. But the same doctors who put me on SHIT, which makes me feel worse than I ever have my entire life, call CPS because they say they don't think I can care for my son. I do "care" for my son. But my housework, of course, is in the crapper. Something has to go and it's not going to be my care of my son.

YOU go on a bunch of crap that makes you twice as slow-moving and increases your levels of pain 100%. YOU try to get up in the morning on this shit and "clean house". If these doctors or CPS have a problem or concern with my housekeeping, they shouldn't have put me on SHIT that I've been saying harms me, and especially not without telling me about and letting me know what it is. I tried to get off of this crap and almost passed out and no one believed me. Now, I'm taking more of it, just to keep from passing out, to "clean house" and knowing I will be the one punished for idiotic and ego-driven mistakes made by DOCTORS. Thanks, Dr. Freed. Thanks for being "the best" doctor ever. Oh, and that's right, you're not really my "PCP". You wouldn't want me to think you have the authority to put me on meds without my consent, now would you? There ARE certain laws in Washington and you don't want me to know about them or how you will get around them. I tried taking your fucking Topamax, Depakote, and Neurontin, and you just want to formulate a special little "cure" for my "problems". You don't give a SHIT about my migraines or you wouldn't have stood in the way of other doctors when they wanted to write prescriptions to help me with treatment that worked for me. You wanted to put me on shit to slow down my brain and try to control me. Yes, this is turning into a public message to Dr. Freed. You "care" so much, after you and Richard Bennett harassed me in a 2 hour meeting on MY BIRTHDAY last October, of all things, where you insulted me and Richard lunged forward and said spitefully, "Sue us! Sue us! Please DO!" when I'd said nothing about suing. I believe YOU, Dr. Freed, said to me with a snide look and tone, "There IS something wrong with you--(smirk)what do YOU think your problem is?" You sat there and harassed me and had your staff provoke me. As if I didn't notice the calls were never recorded when I was calling and being polite, and that the calls were only recorded after your staff hung up on me mid-sentence several times, or insulted or harassed me. You WANTED a reaction, and then you wanted to medicate me to punish me and keep me from writing about you. If you could get people to think I was nuts, there was no concern on your end when I contacted the Boards. You wanted to get me before I got you. You violated HIPPA laws long ago and knew it and didn't want to get caught. I told you I was reporting this to the Office of Civil Rights. Ever since you've tried to write me up as something I'm not, and you've worked with the hospital to slam me, NOT to "help me". I told you I would try the other crap for my "migraines" and I did. It doesn't help, so you lied to me and concealed medications in tablets I would think were narcotics. No migraines, and instead HELL every single day, and I have been sending you emails and TELLING you this almost EVERY SINGLE DAY and instead of listening to me, you push on. You have always been wrong about me and tried to dismiss every single abnormality that showed up on my bloodwork, X-rays and CT scans. Then you tell me and other doctors this is in my head when you have ZERO proof because you REFUSE to do an MRI even though I told you I've had occasional numbing in my left leg. I TOLD you, specifically, that I tried your antiseizure crap but I didn't want to take medications that didn't work, had terrible side effects, and slowed down my brain. You've had your fun using me as your guinea pig and lying to me about not having me on crap, and making me into a laughingstock. You attempted to strip me of any dignity and lied. I have gone to ER and sent you emails, telling you I'm in pain, and you say it's not true but you haven't done the MRI. And I HAVE abnormalities on X-ray and other diagnostics. But YOU have to be RIGHT. YOU'RE the infallible doctor and the town savior, saving everyone from a lawsuit by me, because you idiots slandered me, violated HIPPA and refused me reasonable standard of care. You're interested in your own discovery for your own civil gain, and in medicating me in a way that will work for your lawyers.

GET ME OFF THIS SHIT NOW ASSHOLE. Now...For your information,

I've decided, that since my blog is so threatening to some people, who try to claim it's a representation of my mental state and has zero validity as concerns the truth or journalistic merit, that I will continue with THIS blog, AND my "alternate" blog. So I'll do that tonight. I'll set up my BLOG 2 and give it a tasteful title, and refer all those who are disturbed by what I write HERE, to my other blog. I'll be everything this town and general society might want me to be--"Acceptable".

I'll write about recipes and puppies and being the Ultimate Mother, oh, but I won't flatter myself so. I'll make sure to write uplifting messages and palatable christian fare and will find something positive to say about every single person whose name I know in town. And I'll be the best American patriot ever with nothing bad to say about the FBI, CIA, police in Wenatchee, or country politics. To boot, I'll write at a "normal" rate, which would be about 1 short post every few days.

It's just that I can't do it right now, not tonight, because I'm pissed because my entire body hurts and everything is dull and I can't even hear music the same and trying to sing is like trying to lift a semitruck with my own hands. Oh, and there's this really nice buzzing feeling going on in my right leg, just above my knee in the back. It must not be a herniated disc. Maybe it's not my degenerating neck fixtures/surgery repair either. It must be my imagination--yeah, or the "meds".

The Exorcist

About a half hour ago or less, the TV began playing a movie without anyone pushing "play". I was by the window, cleaning the windowsill, which is next to the TV, when it happened. I could see traffic going by the house slowly. And then a Barney movie which was already in the player, turned on and started to play. My son hadn't touched the TV and I was right there.

I've had his battery-operated toys going off, my computers hacked without a phone/DSL/WiFi or internet connection, and we've had health problems.

The computer tech I spoke with in town, is Andy Panda. He's said it's all possible. Someone just has to send out a "pulse" and that will pick up certain frequencies. He said it's harder to work on battery-operated toys from a remote location because there is no wire-to-wall or electrical connection.

Not ONCE have I been "afraid" or upset by any of this. I had someone say, "Evil spirits", which I believe is ridiculous. Evil spirits have better things to do than turn on electrical toys and computers/TVs, although I wouldn't put it past evil people to do it in an attempt to harass or bother me. I don't get bothered by stuff like this. This is possible with technology and I would never think it was something to do with a spiritual realm. However! It has caused me to think about Fr. Joachim McCann, who was one of the clergy I had major problems with, who is the same one who wrote me a threatening email after HE counseled me for a year. He actually had the job of the monastery "exorcist" and told me the church used him and called on him to cast out evil spirits and fix "haunted houses". I asked what kinds of things he'd seen or people reported. He mentioned some of this kind of stuff, and doors opening and closing, etc.

Now that I know what's possible with technology, I started thinking about this. It must be quite the racket: Use technology to cause electrical disturbances in a house of an "adversary", or even, a parish member. When the person, especially parish member, is sufficiently freaked out and complains to their priest, tell them they need the exorcist. Get the exorcist to pray over the house and do a big routine, and then after the problems stop, wait for the favorable reaction of the parish member. Maybe people whose haunted houses are cured by a priest give better tithes. Maybe they repay the church with devotion and practical favors. Maybe kids are impressed for life with the belief that a priest healed their house and could really cast out evil spirits. Perhaps someone decides to donate their inheritance or life earnings to the church, in appreciation, at the time of death. As for the adversaries, maybe having a haunted house, with no priest to cure the problem, is sometimes a good way to get rid of people and force them to move.

Everything has a logical explanation and I don't buy the haunted house/evil spirits crap. I am never frightened when these things happen and only have an urge to roll my eyes...

I know who protects me and my son and it's God, and there is no one and nothing to fear besides Him. If someone chooses to attack the health of my son, that is a very serious curse they bring upon themselves. Those who live by the sword die by the sword, and this fits non-sword-like forms of weaponry or strategy. I have never vandalized anyone's car, disrupted mail service, fried computers and printers, stalked them, harassed them, asked a church member to write a defamatory newspaper article about someone to spread disinformation, stolen medical records from a house, or attempted to alienate friends and family from an individual--nor have I planned situations to drug someone or get them drunk, and then leave them to be sexually assaulted by others. I've also never tried to railroad someone or bully them in a legal process, lie about someone, create false or distorted medical records, and I've never had a "good time" harassing someone or making fun of them just for the sake of "having" some sick kind of fun. I don't get jealous of what others have and am happy with my life and what I have and have never felt the need to purposefully bring someone down or break them in an attempt to punish them for making myself or someone else feel bad about themselves. Or, in a misguided belief that someone shouldn't care about the life God gave them or feel they are "special" or worthy in the eyes of God, attempted to cause enough distress to provoke a suicide attempt.

I may write about things people have done, but I'm just doing the reporting or writing. I'm not the one who made the decisions to take a particular course of action. I just write about it. I've generally taken the high road.

I can't change anyone. If someone wants to plot against me and wants to hate me, that is their choice. They have a choice between doing good or evil. I'm not pleading for mercy here. I've seen enough to know some people will do whatever it takes to make themselves feel better, even if it means harming an innocent child. It's out of my hands, and those who want control will take it and use it. If it makes them feel good about themselves and eachother, or their church, that's between them and God. If they don't have any regrets, am I going to retaliate? No, I've never retaliated. I walk away and do my own thing. But that makes some people more mad. They want a confrontation and follow me. If it makes you happy, and this is how you wish to spend your time or earn your salvation (you think), maybe God has some work to do. My hands are clean. Should I avenge myself, I would take that from God. I think God can do a better job at adminstering true justice. And if, in the process,someone who is so hateful tries to break me and my son, and ends up hurting themselves, maybe there's a reason for that. God used pharoah and his hardness of heart, for a greater cause, and that may be the case here as well. Send in the hailstorm and flies. I haven't asked for it, nor have I returned evil for evil. But when the storms come, may the rivers part and my son and I cross to the other side safely, and may those waters swallow my enemies up; may they choke on their own conceit.

My son is brave. I am brave. God is my helper and I will trust in the Lord. Instead of hating me because of my confidence and faith, find something to love.

Radiation? My Son's Burn Spot Which Peeled Like A Sunburn

Just when I'm sure it's medication I'm on, I notice 3 different times of increased pain that I have, which coincides with my son crying out and jerking in his sleep, to arouse and want his bottle at the same time I'm reaching for the pain pills. If I AM on some other medication, I'm sure seeing the exact same thing over and over, as regards my son's pain/crying and my concurrent surges of pain. And, this morning, after a night of it, I heard my son's stomach upset as I felt my own stomach upset. And he and I have had the need to use the bathroom at the same time. Something is weird I think...

I think of 2 things: I went to ER 4 times the day before yesterday with my son. Which sounds excessive, but what I've described kept happening and I was getting progressively worse and my son seemed out of it too. But we both resolved around the same times, generally. The 3 rd time, my blood pressure was up double than usual, as it was the last time, when I felt almost comatose. My son wasn't easily aroused either, and slept. I noticed, that 4th time, I couldn't move I was in so much pain, and I became extremely cold. I was shivering. When they got me in a room, I was lying on a stretcher, shivering lightly and cold. They put a hot blanket on me and something weird happened--As soon as they laid the blanket over me, I had large involuntary and rhythmic jerking. My muscles reacted to the warmth in a weird hypersensitive way. And it wasn't a bunch of little twitches, more like a total body contraction. It had a timing of about every 2-3 seconds: 1, 2, contraction--1, 2, contraction--1, 2, contraction or 1, 2, 3, contraction--1, 2, 3, contraction.

The other thing, is that almost a week ago, one day I noticed a mark on my son's hip/leg. It was where his leg joins to his hip, where a diaper fastens. They were the same old diapers and he's not allergic to them. It was a weird spot. The first day it appeared, it was a half-dollar size circular spot where his skin was just slightly darker and very leathery and dry. So dry, it wrinkles when you touched it. It was like a spot-specific sunburn. A couple days later, the top layer of skin on this spot PEELED LIKE a sunburn. It wasn't flakey, or itchy (he didn't scratch it). A strip of skin was peeling off of it whole, like when you get sunburned really bad, and then after a day or two, you can just peel large pieces of skin from the top. That's EXACTLY what it was like. I thought it was weird it was on his leg crease where I also have a lot of pain too.

It looked like a burn. It was never red first, that I noticed. I change his diaper and I never noticed a red or sore spot. It just went from being a well-defined leathery spot that looked cooked, to peeling like a sunburn, and a few day later, or even one day later, after the top peeled off, little tiny remnants of old skin from the peel remained, and the skin beneath was dryer than the rest of his skin, but not the same leathery dry as at first.

It's like he got hit by something. And about the time I noticed this on his leg, was a day he had been crying almost all day, without seeming reason, and rubbing his legs and bending in cramps. He has loose bowels after the pain we both feel, too.

I decided to write this, because we were taking a nap together, and woke at the same exact time. I didn't move or say anything but felt extreme pain and my son cried out, jerked, and wanted his bottle.

Yesterday, we went to my grandparents house, away from this house, and neither one of us twitched at all or had muscle spasms that night. However, it was like we were "detoxing" from being in a poisoned environment at the same time. Because I was still feeling the crackling sensation in my head, and he started having severe abdominal cramps and arched his back in uncontrollable pain. He sobbed for over a half hour, convulsing in pain and stretching himself out rigid, in obvious pain. My grandfather saw this with his own eyes. He said, as anyone could see, something WAS very wrong.

Something really IS wrong. If I'm on a different med, fine. That would make me feel better for an explanation, but something else is going on that affects me and my son at the same time soon.

I showed the doctor at the hospital my son's weird mark but it was a day past the big PEEL, and was looking a little more normal. But even he agreed it wasn't eczema or psoriasis. He said it was probably an allergy to the diaper. But he's not allergic to these diapers and it wasn't on the other side where the other diaper tab is.

I don't care if someone thinks I'm nuts, I do believe we're getting radiation of some sort and it must be, possibly, a kind that can be targeted to a specific direction or site.

My son had a burn on his leg, when I thought we were both going to die we were in such pain. His burn wasn't like a burn from a stove or cigarette or fire burn. It was different. And it was a half dollar or dollar coin size. And then the following day, I was in ER. I would go in after feeling "hit" and then a half hour to hours later feel better. By the last time it happened, it took at least an hour. I was extremely weak. The ambulance guy said the last 2 times that my bp was abnormally high for me--and they arrived on scene more quickly than the first two times after it happened, so I thought maybe they caught my body's reaction before it went away.

I went to Chelan clinic and hospital to see if my son's bloodwork would show any abnormalities that would match mine, and indicate radiation. But everyone was finding a way to refuse to draw his blood.

I've had the same achey pain all day, which is abnormal for me, and my son and I both have had stomach upset and cramps. But no major hits except this morning and then this last one which woke us out of sleep. It's different from before though--I'm not almost passing out and I haven't felt the pressure in my head and then the crackling sensation.

I had been feeling, when it happened, a sudden "grip" of my head muscles--like it feels like the muscle has cramped (the whole brain and I feel it in my forehead too)up or become very tight within my skull. It's like a sudden increased pressure. It grips and then stops, and then there's a crackling sensation in the top and back and forehead of my head. Not on my face where features are. It's like a release from the pressure and then everything is crackling. Sometimes it affects my ears. My son was suddenly crying at the same time, and holding his head too.

Something isn't right.

I sort of thought, when I was having muscle contraction under the warm blanket, with applied heat to the surface of my skin, that perhaps it was because my muscles had been heated constantly that day, by some kind of radiation, and then when removed from the scene, I was in a semi-shock which left me abnormally chilled, and then the muscles were hypersenstive to the heat after that.

What do you think? If anyone knows of an explanation for any of this, I will post ideas here. If anyone knows of a kind of device or technology that could cause this possibly, I'd like to know. I read online that the technology IS out there, but I'd like to know what it would be exactly. While our constant pangs (when I'm constantly weak, very irritable, and suffering) may be from a constant source...I don't know, maybe it's possible there are a couple of things going on here. The distance of my house from the road is about 50 meters but I'm not great at assessing distances. I have always heard traffic going by outside when the big hits come, but the constant wearing pang is with or without traffic. Yet, that pain is gone when we leave this house. I would be at ER and the pain would start to go away after a half hour-3 hours. The last time it wouldn't leave completely, it was so bad. But it DID improve, and I DID feel better, which makes me look like a nut to be so out of it and almost comatose, and then fine later, with no explanation except changes in blood pressure which indicate true pain, and my body's response, and abnormal bloodwork.

Medication makes the most logical sense. But what if I'm really NOT on some other medication? Then, given our experiences, radiation makes the most sense. I've been so confused about this. Last night, and a few times as well, I get a fluttering feeling in my ears. Usually just one side of my head or one ear is affected and it's kind of a beat-beat-beat-beat (like 4 times fast and then gone) pressure that blocks my hearing and then releases again.

I do know, the pressure in my head immediately expanded when I was getting hit before, and then if I took a Percocet while I was having one of these weird days, it affected my head pressure in an exaggerated way--going straight to my head, where I felt a sudden squeeze and then release, with crackling sensation and feeling for sometimes hours afterwards.

I'm not nuts. The ER doctor couldn't explain my son's peeling burn spot. No doctor has wanted to examine all of our bruises or do bloodwork for my son. My bruises and my son's bruises, are all circular with well-defined edges. Usually on the legs but I've had some on my arms. Most of the ones on my legs end up dollar coin size. They range from nickel sized to dollar coin sized, on both of us. But only my son had the burn.

Sometimes he goes around the house without a diaper as he is toilet-training.

As for noticing any lights or anything, I HAVE seen maybe 3 times, a bright pure white flash right before I get "hit" or stunned, at nighttime, when I'm near a window. I don't know if it's neurological or really a flash of light but it's extremely quick. I've also noticed a couple times, a tiny red dot, sometimes moving, coming in through the window but out of all the times in the last several months of these weird pangs and being "hit", I've seen this only maybe ONE time (? I think) that I remember.

I don't know how to put this all together. I hope someone knows what I'm talking about and can put 2 and 2 together from their more extensive knowledge.

Last night I had the ear fluttering with a light "hit" and tried to convince myself that I need that new reconstructive neck surgery. But that wouldn't explain other things. Like my son's burn which peeled off in a section piece of skin and didn't flake; like my hypersenstive reaction to a hot blanket after feeling almost shock-cold.

If I WAS given potassium, I read that radiation can lower potassium and then cause thyroid problems. So I need to fill the prescription I was given. It probably really was potassium. So if it's not meds, I've had abnormally low potassium, glucose, alkaline phosphate, and low white blood count. I eat very well. I wanted to have my son's blood tested but people refused. No one would do an MRI of my pelvis and back/spine. Right now, I am weak again to where it feels my spine doesn't have strength and I've had pain and aching in my joints where leg meets hips. My stomach, and son's stomach, have had gas and cramping and right now it feels like I have an ulcer. Just not well.

I thought I would mention the cat. Our CAT has even not been normal. She is so sweet and usually purrs a lot. She hasn't purred hardly at all the last few months, and we do not abuse her. She gets lots of attention but has become like an attack cat and is aggressive sometimes. Not full-on biting, but ears back, etc. She seems to hurt when I try to run my hand over her back/spine to her tail. She used to like it and rarely still does, but cringes like it hurts now. If she's not acting aggressive or hurting, she is sleeping.

I know I'VE been extremely hostile and had flare-ups, but only, for some reason, when I'm at this house have these mood swings occured. It doesn't happen anywhere else. And my son seems to hurt so much sometimes that he will hit me or kick his legs, but it's not behavioral. My grandfather saw that just yesterday. It's like he's hurting.

Chelan Clinic and Chelan Hospital Fiasco

I won't sleep until I write about what happened during the week before they put me back on some stupifying medication:

I came out of the fog and pain, angry as hell and confused. I had thought I was dying for a couple of months, with unexplained pain. I was so weak I couldn't move, lift a spoon to my mouth, or make it to the next room. I thought I had bone cancer because it felt the way people describe bone cancer to feel. Partially, I was influenced by how my X-ray of my lower back looked too, because it's not normal. I couldn't sit up straight and my spine felt weak. It feels as if the marrow is sucked dry and replaced with wind.

So my voice came back. I yelled, and I wrote angry emails to my family and doctor, and then I calmed down, resolute in my hatred of those who had done this to me, and swimming my way out of the blinding quicksand. I began to sing. I felt my energy returning and it seemed, health to my bones. The pain went away. But after I calmed down, I began to doubt myself again. Everyone was still denying I'd been on something other than "narcotics". They were telling me I was paranoid and had abnormal thinking for thinking such a thing and I was told, by my doctor, that he "couldn't do that" and it was "illegal" without my consent and knowledge. I became very confused. If that wasn't from medication, what WAS it then? The only other thing going on at that time was hacking a tech said could only occur through a microwave frequency.

Why would anyone spend time to hack into my computers? So MUCH time? But then again, I've angered a lot of people, with my willingness to report public information and tell the truth. I have dirt on a few individuals in the FBI in Portland, Oregon, Cashmere, Washington, and New York; on some Catholic clergy that abused and harassed me, sending out the troops against me after they threatened my life; and that's not even the cream of the crop. I have documentation and accurate descriptions to back up what I say. I hadn't said everything yet. I hadn't even come close. So shut her up NOW!

In this town, it wasn't difficult to get enough medical professionals in on an attempt to stop me from writing. I'd already been writing about them and they knew I had grounds for a lawsuit for medical malpractice regarding damages my son and I incurred at childbirth. Not to mention my documentation that this town has the worst disregard for HIPPA and other rules and standards than anyplace I've been. If someone needed a willing party to try to put me away, this was fertile soil. The seeds were planted and it was time to reap the harvest. Doctor Freed took it upon himself, long ago, to be Frankenstein's creator and yet he did not really care about anything other than protecting his and his clinic's interests.

So I was "released" from the misery as the guilty parties tried to find a way to excuse their actions and seal it up to prevent legal loss. I was told to go to this Clinic in another town. I hadn't want to go there. It was still "local" and all my healthcare facility problems have been local. One doctor knows the other and they cover for eachother. I knew that if THESE doctors who were trying to cover their asses, were telling me to go to Dr. so and so, in Chelan, there was a political reason for it. I planned to go to Seattle, actually, but kept my "appointment" with the Chelan clinic just so I could take my son to the Walk-in.

When I got to the Walk-in there, they told me they would NOT see my son until I switched over my PCP and my son's PCP to the Chelan clinic PCPs. I suspected all along that I was going to have problems with this clinic too and that it was part of a legal strategy to make ME look like a problem, not THEM and their care. But I took my son there, just for a blood draw and examination because he hasn't been feeling well. He also quit speaking after a trip many months ago, to the hospital, and that concerned me. He wasn't autistic, but I thought about mercury because he had a horrible adverse reaction to his 2 mo. vaccinations. And because MY bloodwork was not normal, showing low glucose and phosphate, I wondered if it was something in the environment that was affecting him too. I didn't know then that my abnormalities were from the medications. So my thought process was rationale, given the lack of information I had and my tendency to trust even the most untrustworthy and give people second chances.

What happened there was completely bizarre. I had already started writing actively in my blog again, and I believe the medical community was eager to put an end to THAT. So when I asked for bloodwork, I noticed the phlebotemist couldn't do it right. She stabbed both of my son's arms and complained she couldn't find a vein. My son was traumatized and didn't have any blood drawn. Then the PCP came along and held him and I SAW him pull my son's arm away as the nurse was finally drawing blood. He said, "That should be enough for glucose!" He wanted me to go home with that. I thought it was unprofessional. A phlebotemist should know how to draw blood on even a child. So I asked for a referral to the Chelan hospital. I got one, and didn't know that the Chelan PCP was "in on" my medication crap and that they were attempting to refuse to do a blooddraw on my son but didn't want me to know. They were flat-out lying to me and humoring me as if I were 3 years old.

I went, unawares, to Chelan hospital, concerned about my son, and then THEY made a big performance out of drawing his blood and didn't do it. They told me he'd have to be sedated first for them to draw his blood. I said that seemed extreme and couldn't they manage? They said no. I made a comment that it was odd a professional phlebotomist couldn't perform a blooddraw and she got defensive and said, "I could have, but you would have had to be out of the room; you were hysterical." This was a flat-out lie. I had been holding my son calmly and they fussed about my son, keeping his arm tied up, until he began to cry, already scared from the LAST blooddraw attempt. THEY quit without drawing blood, saying HE was the problem and they couldn't find his veins and he'd have to be sedated. Then it got turned around to ME being a problem, which was BS. I even had one of the nurses make up a quote, supposedly from MY lips, out of the blue. This nurse got worked up and said, "You said, 'STOP! I'm hyperventilating!" I had said no such thing, and never asked them to stop. I was the one who wanted them to do the blooddraw! It was my second attempt. I had NOT been "hyperventilating" and made no reference to that. I DID shed a few tears after my son started crying and THEY quit attempting to do the blooddraw. I felt bad for my son and that they had again NOT drawn blood. I was concerned about my son's health.

After being accused of being the "problem", I asked to speak to someone in administration to make a complaint. As I was in the room writing up a quick complaint on a form, I left and saw the 2 nurses go into a room. As I walked out, calmly, I saw 2 patrol cars. Good grief, I thought, and they were called about ME, no doubt, the "hyperventilating" mother. Right before I left, I heard the administrative woman on the phone with the same PCP at teh other clinic who had lied to me and said he was gone for the day. I wondered if someone else would be there at the clinic, because they HAD drawn MY blood, and at that point, I knew something was fishy. I was already suspicious about the recent multiple CBCs and Metabolic tests and after THAT night, I went back to the Clinic to tell them I withDREW my consent to have my blood analyzed. I didn't know who would still be there but there was a car about to pull out as I pulled into the parking lot. Who should it be but the lying PCP who, I was told, had already left the clinic.

More tomorrow. Need to finish this one up.

Write When You Can't Write

I can't write on this crap. I read the last posts I wrote and they're boring. My creative use of language is gone and it takes me twice as long to write anything and then it stinks. The only part I liked at all was the very end of the last post. When I am myself, and not being drugged, I write fast, freely, and it's interesting. I don't have to labor over writing, ever, when I'm not drugged.

As I'm quite sure my parents are involved in this, as is the Wonderful Doctor Freed (run for your life), and plenty of others I've angered, I am considering adding True Tales about my family to this blog, er..."rant" as the red-faced angry counselor called it at the hospital. Funny how a counselor can yell at someone they're claiming is mentally ill and should be drugged. If I'm really mentally ill, why be mad at me for what I write? If you don't like what I write, start up your own counter-blog. Which is what most of these people should be doing, instead of bullying others with medications. I feel like I'm in a concentration camp in my own country. I thought there were laws against this kind of thing--boy was I wrong.

It's political and this is the shittiest thing that's ever happened to me, but it's another chapter and experience, and what others do to me out of selfish motivations, I can still turn around for good. The most important thing is to be accurate and write well while I'm in the chemical restraints, to document this experience. Everything in life can be a lesson, even when you suffer because of others. If people want to beat you down and outnumber you, the only thing one can do is to take names and try to remember the details, for the future sketch. Write everything down and keep it. Dates, times, feelings, experiences, names, affiliations, expressions...It will come in handy at a later date.

I think of Frida. If I have a saint, Frida is the one for me. The Artistic Saint of Suffering.

Political Persecution and Whitewash

So enough about me. The whole point is that I was writing about others and observations I've made. Yes, I'm on medication that I didn't consent to and I don't even know what it is. Probably lithium or tranquilizer, and not the "drug dependency" line they're now feeding me. Whatever it is, as long as it slows me down and makes me suffer is the point. I'm the laughingstock of town for thinking the side effects are from radiation. That's okay.

I have told the truth about others. And when I've made guesses as to my own life, I admit they're only guesses. Being wrong, uninformed, or made to feel humiliated about my own life doesn't take away from the truth.

I wondered why the ER doctors tried to say my pain was in my head. But they have refused to do an MRI. Hmmmm....I wonder...Could it be that they know I'm in pain but want me to suffer, knowing that if they acknowledge my pain they'd have to take me off of this crap that slows me down and hurts me too? Do they care about my pain or about themselves and the idea that I may write about them and continue writing about the Healthcare Hell in Wenatchee? I believe I was criticizing them, in my little blog, before they pulled out the dart guns.

I hurt badly. But the more of this crap I take, the more I hurt. I'm feeling the pain in my spine again, and back, to where I can't sit upright again and feel too weak to hold up my own spine. If this is all in my head, it's interesting how I knew EXACTLY the date the pain STOPPED and when it started up again. Isn't it? I got ONE week off of this crap and after telling them how much misery it caused me, what do they do? Put me back on it.

All I know, is that when I was on it, if I wrote, I thought I was writing like "myself" but I wasn't. And I couldn't even see it until I was off of the crap. Then I realized how I hadn't been able to articulate how I felt, feel things, smell things, or sing. I haven't been singing. I don't have the energy to sing anymore. If I kept taking this, and at this point, they've had me on it too long for me to quit without assistance, I would end up in the same painful stupor. I notice, when I'm on this stuff, I write about myself, and don't have the ability to write about the important things.

Which makes me think about one of the guys they had come to hospital to interview me for admission to a psych hospital. He got in my face, turned red, and yelled at me. He even yelled at me that I was delusional. Which is interesting because the medical professionals in town hate me and are hostile to me, and treat me like crap, until they think they have me beat. When I'm no longer a "threat" to their own moral integrity and reputations, they're civil. Not that I don't see the sneers, delighted exchanges, and laughs. It's funny, how people will forget to conceal their feelings when they think someone has lost the ability to make accurate observations.

If someone thinks you're drunk, even if they are NOT drunk, they let their guard down. They're not worried about anyone catching on. Same thing here. I say, let the guards down and show me your true colors.

I could be completely NOT taking any medication at all, but if others THINK I am, I can pick out changes in their behavior and awareness. It's like going undercover as a poor person when you're rich. You don't really know how people feel about you, until you see both sides--the side they show when they believe you're rich, and the side they show when they believe you're poor.

It's almost like switching a light on and off. How do they look in the dark vs. light? When I speak the truth, I am accused of being false. For example, one of my alleged "delusions" is that I ever knew anyone in the FBI. It is generally assumed here, that I did not, even though the truth is, I did. So now, while others attempt to control me and what I write by administering drugs without my consent and knowledge, which I believe is a form of mind control, political persecution and violation of the freedoms of free speech, how do I regard those who are false and opposed to the truth?

I have to say, this is their choice, not mine. I choose the light, they want the dark. I choose the truth, they want what is gray. I am bound by their chains, and yet I am free in knowing my Will is manipulated and it is not my fault. This is the price one must pay for loving the Truth and wanting to let it shine when others don't appreciate the glare. They want the white picket fence and tell me I should want it. If I don't want it, they will attempt to force me to want it. I choose the cross. You can keep the whitewash to yourselves.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Medication Without Consent

It's disappointing to be lied to. But when doctors lie, and abuse your trust, it's more than disappointing. It should be cause for losing a license.

I have written about "radiation", after knowing I experience actual symptoms and pain and yet don't have an explanation. I know it's not "in my head" because I've always been right about physical problems. I'm also usually right about motives and how politics influence decision-making. As for actual radiation, that IS going on, because it's the only way the battery-operated toy going off can occur, according to a computer tech, and the only way my computers could be hacked the way they were hacked (without going online first). As for my health, I assumed that since the computer stuff was explained by radiation, maybe the weird health problems were caused by that too.

I have very severe pain and because it's been so bad, save one week in the last 4 months, and because of very odd sensations that came with whatever crap I was on instead, I was trying to find out what was wrong. Tonight, I feel weak and I'm in a lot of pain. I am not on "narcotics" as they've told me. Because it seemed so incredible to believe otherwise, and because a doctor actually insulted my state of mind, telling me I didn't have "normal" thinking for wondering if I was on something besides narcotics, I searched for another explanation. The only thing that came up, which matched all my symptoms, was radiation. It's weird, but that's what adds up.

The "shock" or stun effect which seemed to be radiation, is, I suppose, now that I know I've been on some kind of big secret "detox" plan (as if I needed it) was from whatever this other crap is, when it wears off. This week, I received a prescription for 56 tablets. Of "Percocet". I took half of one and knew immediately it wasn't narcotic. Number one, it didn't go to my pain. It went straight to my head. I still had pain, and yet became too dizzy and weak. So I took minimal amounts. I took a total of maybe 7 pills to date. Or less. As a result, not being totally sure of what I was on or how long, I experienced strange effects. When it wore off, it was an instant notice, because I felt the pain shock/passing out/dizziness/and nausea. If I didn't take it, I felt like passing out and if I DID take it, my pain only got worse and didn't improve, but I didn't feel like passing out and experience the weird side effects. This crap, whatever it is, is physically addictive. My body doesn't function without it and it's crap. It doesn't help the pain at all and yet if I try going off, at this point, it hurts me.

I chose to trust my doctors and everyone who was LYING to me, and accepted it must be some kind of electrical field out here, rather than dare doubt those who "loved" me, or were "professionals". Neither love or professionalism has entered into the equation here. I have suffered, and I still suffer, and all because of selfish motives and politics, to stop me and cover themselves for their gross assumptions. On the other end of the spectrum, there are some who weren't happy with me the way I was, even if I liked myself, and they allowed others to manipulate and pressure them. It IS a kind of "Operation Knockout". I thank those who held up under the pressure and stood up for me and my expressed wishes, even if these were not met.

In the process, I lost my ability to think clearly, or remember things, and when I went to the ER for help because of my pain yesterday and the weird side effects (I guess not taking this shit finally caught up to me yesterday and punished me) I was blown off. Given MORE "potassium". Then I come back, uncured, and blown off again. I took my son in, concerned for him, at a officer's behest. Then, that night, not knowing or being informed of what I was on and the dangers of going through sudden withdrawal, I became very ill. My blood pressure of 95/70 went up to 145/90 or more. It almost doubled and I FELT severe pain. The docs, giddy that I was writing about "radiation", and being motivated to get rid of me for some time, since I told them they were getting sued almost in the beginning, when they called me drug-seeking and a number of other things and refused to treat me, upped the ante. They called people to try to have me locked up in a mental institution. After THEY have practically driven me to craziness, and lied to me on so many occasions I can't keep the truth straight anymore. When that didn't work, my "sanity" holding up under the litmus test, they called for a second opinion, eager to have it their way. They still didn't get anywhere with it. So they called CPS and asked them to take my son from me that very night. This hospital staff has done this kind of thing from the start, before they even knew me, and because of their arrogance and assumptions, caused all kinds of damages. To protect themselves, they wanted to make me look bad and give me grief.

In the last month, the staff there has been kissing my ass. All the sour faces and spiteful words, and mocking laughter, is replaced with "Ma'am may I help you with your coat?" I'm sure I'll find out why soon enough.

Nothing has changed with the standard of care in the town. I have very severe pain and an X-ray which shows lytic changes in my lower half. My "doctor" did a CT scan, which will bring up detail for sclerosis, but refused numerous times, to do an MRI, which is the only way to examine lytic changes.

I was told, after the doctor came into the ER, that my pain was in my head. "Somatic" he said. I tried to explain to him that I had some evidence there WAS a problem, based on my X-ray, and reminded him that they were wrong before--when the entire town's clinics were refusing to do an X-ray of my tailbone, which I told them had to be broken, I went to Seattle and proved I was right. I had a broken tailbone, just as I suspected and THEY chose to doubt. They didn't listen to me. When I was in Oregon, I had a major knee injury after a car crash and the guy said I must have pulled a muscle. I told him it was "inside" my knee and was not muscle strain. That doctor attempted to show me "squats", which were the worst possible thing for my knee. 7 months later I was having the surgery I should have had immediatly, when I complained of true giving way and extreme pain. By that time, the quarter-sized piece of my femur which had broken off was dead and they had to excise it, and do pinning, bone grafting, AND my kneecap was severely blistered. Leaving a blistered patella that long results in early-onset osteoarthritis, which I have. I feel it. My knee is not the same.

I have always been right about my pain, and my own assessments of my body and what is wrong. But these idiots don't care. They want to be right, and a few have had self-serving motivations to be right, in the face of the truth. When I first showed up to this town, I was immediately called "drug seeking" because I needed help with migraines, inbetween insurance (my college insurance was in another state). They even wrote in the charts that I did NOT have migraines and gave me everything except what I NEEDED to function properly. I had tried everything, and my pain is so severe, the only thing that worked was narcotic abortion. These doctors in Wenatchee wrote my migraines up as "tension headache" and sometimes sent me away with nothing, other times with massive Toradol (which didn't work), or told me to "take Tylenol".

It is one very good thing that this hospital, Central Washington Hospital, lost their privilege to operate as a major trauma center as regards neurological care. In my opinion, it is a dangerous place to entrust your health or the health of those you love. After coming to terms with some of the constant exaggeration and hysteria that is this town, good and bad developments have come of it.

1. I sympathize, and my heart goes out to, anyone and everyone who has chronic or even acute pain and is made to suffer because of prejudice and ignorance,
2. I no longer trust anyone in the medical profession, at all,
3. I no longer wish to be a part of this country.

The country bit may sound extreme, but while America prides itself on being the most just and merciful, and "freedom-loving", this treatment and these privileges are only available to those who tow the line or have power or money. Freedom is being able to express ones thoughts and opinions, and tell one's story, whether true to a T or sometimes tongue-in-cheek, without fear of being hauled off to a mental ward, sued, or harassed. Justice is when society attempts to treat everyone with the same standard. Mercy comes with practice.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

4:00 p.m. Today: My Son and I Tasered by Stun Gun

Someone tried to call just now, at about 4:00 p.m.-4:05 p.m., right at the same time I was hit by a stun gun. That's what this is. When I reached the phone no one was there and I hit *69 and the call was marked private or out of the area.

I was hit immediately before this call. Right now there is a massive amount of traffic outside my house. I feel like I'm sick/hurt and then it's an immediate sensation in my head and dizziness and I feel nauseous. Every single time, this sounds gross, but someone from law enforcement needs to get on this, afterwards, I have to go to the bathroom for bowel movement. This isn't meds. This bowel movement thing has happened each time, and I've been hit so hard I almost passed out.

My son wakes up each time this happens, and cries, or sucks his thumb. If this does this to me, imagine what it does to a baby. My son had diarrhea after the last one where someone called and said nothing while my son was crying uncontrollably.

It also makes me feel tingly. It's sort of tingly-crackly in the head and hands, and my eyes are affected.

This is damaging me and if it hurts me, it is hurting my son.

Someone in law enforcement needs to do something NOW. Set up a webcam by my house, or something. We're supposed to live here and take this? This is completely illegal and someone should go to jail for this.

The effects sound like what happens with that FBI Mytogun or whatever. What tips me off is the description of "loss of bowel control". It's reaching me enough to cause stomach upset and problems.

I know this is someone with the Catholic church. No one else would do this or have a problem with this blog. If that's "faith" and religion, to harm babies who were blessed by your own seal, that is one sick person or group.

How I Got Involved With The Catholic Church #6 (DelBalzos)


After the car accident I was very thin. I needed a job so I looked at the ads for nanny positions. I took a position with Carl and Mary DelBalzo. Carl was Human Resource Manager for Intel and Mary was an Intel lawyer. They were a bona fide Italian-Catholic family.

Lawyers have always been in the background and I never thought about it. Erik Lund's Dad was a lawyer, Mike Nichols' Dad was a lawyer, Mary DelBalzo was a lawyer, and my high school boyfriend became a lawyer later too. The legal community is small and tight in Oregon. Mary advised me a little on where to go for a lawyer and when the insurance company got wind I was working for a lawyer, they wanted to settle that very day. They wanted me to take an annuity but I did the research and got all the cold hard cash up front. I should have bought a lawyer though, instead of a book about investments.

I knew I wasn't going to do the live-in nanny thing again. After watching the baby on the East Coast, I went through baby withdrawals for almost a year. I was truly sad to be apart. I thought I'd never be a nanny and open up my heart again, but I took a job watching 2 little girls, ages 3 and 7. They are still near and dear to me. I spent more time with S., because she was still at home, and so we had more time to develop a bond, but I really loved A. as well. I knew, after babysitting those girls, that I was capable of loving someone else's children as if they were my own, and I knew I had the heart for adoption. After I was a nanny for these girls, I went through part of the foster parent application process and talked to people about it seriously. My best friend was open to being involved, not as a parent-partner but as a friend. Monica and I were best friends until she met her husband and married. I think her husband thought our friendship was too close and that he felt threatened. Once, he came onto me when I was waiting for Monica, and I left, and after that, he had to be around whenever we visited, because I think he wanted to be there if I said something. I never did (until now). It was difficult to maintain the friendship after that but I will always love her and wish her and her family the best.

I watched the DelBalzo girls for a year, until their mother decided to quit work and stay home herself. I liked this family. I had decided before I took the job that if the house was neat and sterile, I wasn't taking the position. I needed to work for a family that matched my housekeeping philosophies. HeeeLLO Mary! It was exactly what I wanted: creative chaos.

I felt free to spend the majority of my time playing with the girls, doing a little cooking (Indian fare!), and making flower arrangements from the plants, flowers, and trees in their yard. Mary had an amazing green thumb and I enjoyed breaking off small branches of leaves from trees to combine with flora. The girls were fun and the parents were relaxed, in general. Towards the end, a neighbor got between us, but I never bothered to explain. This blond across the street was always trying to pick my mind about Mary and Carl and I didn't give her dirt. First of all, their lives were private, and secondly, Mary said she had a security position as a lawyer and the company computer secrets had to be kept. So she told me a little about developments and I told no one--not to this day. This neighbor persisted however, inviting me over to her house and then approaching me at soccer games. One day I made the horrible mistake of commenting I might like a raise. She told Mary and Mary thought I was telling everyone in the hood that they were cheap and paid me dirt or something. Then Mary thought I was lying to her about going to some yardsale for myself which her own kids had wanted to go to. I didn't argue with Mary. She was the lawyer. When I said nothing, it was better for everyone. In the end, I didn't want to pick up messes the kids left on my day's off (weekend) or add cooking dinner every night to the routine without a little extra compensation, so we parted ways. I really, really missed those girls and thought about them all the time. I took them out afterwards a few times but it was probably harder on me than them. All in all, it was one of my favorite positions.

During this position, I bought my house. It was a 1920s bungalow. Sturdy, sound, and fabulous for small. I painted the livingroom walls Italian Ice, my bedroom with a ochre color, another bedroom pure white, and the kitchen was creative in bright green and vivid turquoise blue. The bathroom was sky powder blue with clouds I painted on. I did the painting myself and tried to sand the floors myself with a professional sander but that gave me a headache and took me for a ride I didn't want to go. So I hired someone to do that. I also wrote Old Testament verses on the doorframes of the inside of the house and along railings, above the built-ins, in black. Then I tackled the basement and sealed it to make it waterproof and then did a chocolate/vanilla floor which I tried to give a marbled appearance but it looked like ice cream. I worked on oil paintings then and was really into it. Downstairs I made a room and wrote things all over the ceiling of the room, where my unfinished copy of a Degas ballerina (the one with the blue tutu) was on an easle.

I had energy to spare (always have) and was very involved in the community church which was called "New Song Community Church". I started going there after the car accident. Some of the people I met there had connections to others I would meet later. It's the most twisted tale.

Okay, it's really not that twisted. I just liked how that sounds: "It's the most twisted tale"--DA-da-da-DAH-da-DA. I am struggling to stick to the facts here. I truly love to write too much I think.

2 ER Trips Because of Radiation

I had someone tell me today that what I was saying wasn't normal and that I should know because I am "intelligent". Thanks for the compliment. If I were nuts, I would blindly believe weird stuff, and think everyone else did too, or should. That's not the case. For someone outside of these experiences, I would question anyone who readily accepted what I'm describing. There are others that do understand. I talked to someone who knew personally about "ears" that go onto vans or the inside of a car which can pick up conversations, and which have been used in the Eastern Bloc to cause reproductive cancers after about 5-6 years exposure. It's microwave technology and this person said the FBI had better equipment than that. He didn't know how someone could get the battery operated toys to go play, or get onto a desktop without an internet/phone connection, but the other computer tech did. So these things are possible, and when I see these things happening in front of me, on my computers, which I've documented, and feel what's happening and see what's happened to my son, to know it's possible and not draw a conclusion given the evidence I have would be an idiot.

I had to go to ER after writing the last post. I was feeling okay except that weird deep ache started to come in, which affects my lower back, thighs down to my knees, pelvis bones and spine. It's not consistent with my pain symptoms, which usually are controlled just fine by my medication (Percocet). This is different. I could take a ton of narcotics and it still wouldn't touch this pain, and OTC meds don't help either--I've tried. I was starting to get confused writing too, and lost focus and figured I was too tired and hurting, so it was time to stop. I went to bed. I and my son were both having light twitching but nothing bad. He didn't wake up. Then, I felt extreme back, pelvis and spine pain. I can really feel it in the joints where the legs join the hips. It was so bad I got up to take a pain pill, and when I stood up I almost passed out. I was very, very near blacking out.

I have a son so that scared me. I tried widening my eyes and to breathe deeply and keep focused. I walked back and forth which helped more than standing still. I felt nauseous, weak, and was trying to keep the dizziness away. I drank some water but felt sick, but then I thought maybe I had low blood sugar so ate a few raisins. But after 5 minutes passed and I was still not well, I decided to call an ambulance. I was so weak then I couldn't have driven if I'd wanted to, and too dizzy. And I was scared. This is the 3rd time in the last few days that this has happened, where out of the blue, I feel a sudden extreme pain and then almost black out instantly and instead stumble about feeling dazed, weak, and nauseous. In the ambulance, I felt too tired and weak to talk. The weakness settled in more after the initial near passing out. He did a blood sugar test and it was fine. I was confused because I thought maybe I was diabetic or something. The first 2 times I almost passed out, I calmed myseld down, took a pain pill, and laid down. I wasn't up that late the other times, but it's always happened at night, sort of about every 12 hours lately. I had started to think, because I noticed an 8-12 hour timeframe, that it was my "not-really-narcotics" again. I thought it was wearing off. I feel a crackly sensation in my head and my eyes feel weird, right after a surge of pain, and then I'm dizzy and feel sick and weak. The crackling sound continues. It's like a med is wearing off, I thought. Because I feel the pain suddenly, all 3 times this has happened I've wondered if these aren't narcotics but Neurontin with a timeframe for wearing off. But I'm wondering if it's radiation or some kind of stun gun too. I get tingling in my fingers/hands and around my mouth, but the doctor at ER said it was because I was hyperventilating.

This has actually happened in the last few months, but intespersed with that horrendous period of pain so I couldn't notice as much. In the last few days I've noticed because I'd been starting to feel better and get my energy back. So I notice the odd pain when it returns.

My heart races too, though, and palpitates. It was doing this at the ER. All my vitals were good, blood and urine "clean", and the only thing was that my potassium was abnormally low, phosphate is abnormally low, and my WBC was low. The glucose is fine now. But the other stuff is linked to outcomes of radiation. Of course, my first thought was, "Yep. Radiation." And I thought again about the sudden almost-passed out incidences. I almost couldn't call ER this time. I was worried if I didn't call this time, the next time I would be passed out cold with no way to call for help and my son needing me.

Right now I feel very weak still. And that old weird aching pain is back but has subsided. If I'm really not on a different med, and everyone says NO WAY, then I can't think of another explanation.

I was afraid to go home actually. This is the first time I've been afraid for my life. What can I do if I pass out cold? And this is very strange, too. I felt better at the ER, and both me and my son had almost zero twitching and spasms, and my nausea went away. When I got back home this morning I started feeling a little nauseous again but it may be in my head. I'm very good at figuring out my pain, but I can also give and take if I'm unsure of something. I just feel very weak, sore/achey in my leg joints (knees and leg-to-hip areas. They gave me some potassium there and I laid down and started to sleep with my son a bit. My heart rate became regular and I focused on calming down. I WAS hyperventilating but I tried to explain to him that while I WAS hyperventilating and getting worked up, I hadn't worked myself up to feeling like passing out. I actually appreciated that he seemed to believe me this time. They don't always believe me, but I appreciated this, and I said I understood I was hyperventilating too and I'd try to control it.

I thought about moving. I even thought about waving a white flag, and writing a post saying: "I give up! You win! I won't tell anyone anything and your secrets are all safe if you will quit harming me and my son!" Which would really sound nuts because no one else would know what I'm talking about.

I asked the nurse if there was something I could use at home, in case of emergency, if I couldn't make it to the phone. Like the LifeSupport thing or whatever, where you just press a button for help. I'm concerned it may happen again as there is no health reason for this, on my end. I almost couldn't call this time.

My son has done some contorting and crying of his own, and can't stop. He was hysterical last night (before I felt like passing out) and it seemed his tummy bothered him. I held him and nothing consoled him. Then I got a phone call while my son was crying uncontrollably. No one was on the other end. I said "Hello?" several times and no one answered, but there was no click or dial tone. I hung up.

This was right after my car broke down AGAIN last night. It was the timing belt, I could feel it, which was just fixed and brand new. I believe someone did something to it while I was distracted, playing with my son at McDonald's last night (earlier in the evening). I saw a couple cars parked real close to my car at weird angles--like, why did they have to be lined up by eachother and so close to my car. And there was a man there who gave me a bad feeling. At one point, he watched while I played with my son and he went out of the room and watched behind the glass, talking on a cell phone and it was clear he was talking about me. He knew who I was but I didn't know who he was.

I had to go to ER again. Twice in the same day. First for almost passing out, and then second because I started getting this crackling pressure or loss of pressure in my head, which I can kind of hear (which happens when I take narcotics for migraines sometimes but this was different) and was extremely weak, in pain with the lower body ache, and extremely nauseous. I almost threw up.

The doctor acted like there was something wrong with me for thinking my "Percocet" maybe wasn't really my Percocet. I don't know why he would think it's so odd--THIS hospital has, at least 3 times, given me shots telling me they were one thing and then I later found out it was something else. That's not legal either, and they did it. I would go in for migraine treatment, and if it's bad enough for ER I need morphine or demerol usually to kill it, and they would TELL me they were giving me this but give me Vistaril or Benedryl instead. I knew because it didn't work and they had me leave right after giving the shot, and then I would get my records and find out they lied to me.

People lie.

Things are not always what they seem to be.

Truth is often stranger than fiction.

The Truth Will Set You Free...Is that true? Or does the Truth sometimes bind people and put them in a dangerous position. I have told the truth and am accused of being nuts, and those who know I'm NOT nuts, get a shark snack and lick their lips.

My eyes have been opened. You think things are not possible or don't happen, and there are some very complicated and illegal, or weird things that do happen. I really don't care if 95% of the general population thinks I'm nuts, because the 5% or less that can relate knows I'm on the right page and that I've got it right. It's just that I'm coming out and saying it, while most people wouldn't say anything out of fear of being called nuts. I have a lot to fear--I've had people make threats to CPS 5 times, to try to take my son from me and cause both me and my son distress. The only thing that keeps me going is God.

I found a little pocket memo book from the time I first got involved with the Mt. Angel Abbey Seminary and monastery. Right before this or during this time, I was also visiting an Orthodox Jewish church to learn more. I copied, in the second page of this book, this verse:

"The proud have forged a lie against me: but I will keep thy precepts with my whole heart. Their heart is as fat as grease: but I delight in thy law. It is good for me that I have been afflicted; that I might learn they statutes. The law of thy mouth is better to me than thousands of gold and silver." --Psalm 119:69-72