Page 3
Because of the fact that the deportee also bought a bunch of hotel furniture, I was left to dispose of it, and as you might guess, it was also stressful. The person who sold the furniture to the deportee agreed to buy it back, but this is Las Vegas, and his offer was a rip-off. I had no idea how I was going to survive this, and it seems I developed a stutter, and became extremely embarrassed when confronted with any new situation.
There was a day when I looked forward to challenges, but challenges became my nemeses at this point. In addition to confusion, I noticed my math skills were failing quickly, and I seem to have lost my ability to spell even simple words. This, from the person who won numerous spelling bees all the way through school!
I would get side-tracked easily, and my decision-making skills were, at this time, almost non-existent. It was a chore just trying to decide what to buy as groceries. Forget anything that had to do with business.
Finally, the man who was the upholsterer said there was a house next to him that was vacant and asked me if I wanted to look at it. It was large, but it was $400 a month (in 1990) and this is where my life took an unexpected turn, and I told my son he could either work or me or live with me. What was I thinking? It was only a long time afterward that I realized that it was a cruel thing to say. My son was so hurt that he packed up his VW and headed for Tucson, where one of my brothers lived. It was quite a while before I heard from him.
A man came to the upholster to have his car interior done, and in another bad decision, I agreed to move to Los Angeles with him, as he was in the army and was being transferred there as a recruiter. Life there was not pleasant, as I had difficulty finding work because of my lack of skills. However, I did manage to find a job in a camera shop in Reseda, and as it was a neighboring community of Northridge, the commute wasn't too bad. And the hours were good. The pay was adequate, but, I noticed that my earlier symptoms would come and go, and there was another that I was unprepared for. I began losing my hair.
Stress. That's what I decided, though I would still have the fevers and aches and the loss of spelling ability, the confusion, the decisions...the stuttering, and my self-esteem went downhill as well. I felt as if my brain were falling apart a little bit at a time, and it only made things worse.
One day, I saw an ad for computer school, and decided to check into it. I did this on my own, with no discussion, and no input from my roommate. So I quit the job. By then, we had moved into Inglewood, because of changes in the recruiting station. As it turned out, it wasn't far from the school, and I was able to ride the bus if I couldn't take his truck, as he often used a government vehicle.
Somehow, I managed to maintain a 4.0 GPA, but I have no clue how. And that winter, I had another bout with rheumatic fever, which I had had as a child. This time, it was the trigger for the worst onset of all the symptoms. I never seemed able to rest, even though I did eventually fall asleep at night. I thought it was "just depression." I had dealt with depression to one degree or another most of my life, so this was nothing new, I thought. I just had achy joints, fever, confusion, and all the other symptoms, but now I added vivid dreams, nightmares, and short-term memory loss. What was happening to me?
In April of 1992, I graduated, and went looking for work. I went to several interviews, and one day, I had one down on Century Boulevard, close to LAX. My appointment was a 2:00 PM and as usual, I was a few minutes early. By 2:15, I hadn't been called in and I had begun to feel antsy. I couldn't explain that...just that I needed to get home.
I was told the interviewer wouldn't be there until after 3:00 and I said, "Let me reschedule. I have to get home." I ran across the street to the bus stop, not bothering to walk to the nearest crosswalk, and took the bus home. I walked in the door and turned the TV on which I seldom ever did. The news was on, and the Talking Heads were discussing the verdicts in the trial of the policemen who beat Rodney King a year or two before. The trial was held in Simi Valley which is a white enclave that frowns on folks with any other skin color. Knowing the venue, the verdict was a given.
My roommate had gone to a town up north to visit a friend, and I was left alone in the apartment without even a phone. The nearest one was on the corner about 50 yards away. (Before cell phones became small enough and cheap enough for everyone to have one!)
As I watched the TV screen, waiting for "something," the camera cut away to an intersection at Florence and Normandy, the block my roommate worked on. Reginald Denny was being pulled from his big rig and being stoned by whoever was near enough to add a few blows to the already-downed man. I began to cry.
Stay tuned
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
Page 2
Let's see...where was I? Oh yes. Soon after I finally divorced, I was looking for a job in earnest, but was hampered because by that time, I was a "displaced homemaker over 45," and I had no real professional background.
No typing skills, no computer skills, and the math skills were only available with a calculator. By this time, it seemed that most businesses wanted people with computer skills, and I knew I would have to do something or spend my life on my feet, trying to deal with customers who were unhappy.
With spinal arthritis from a fall I took as a tot, there was no way I was going to spend the rest of my life standing on my feet for eight to ten hours a day. Something had to be done.
My son had come to stay with me shortly after my divorce, but neither of us were employed, nor did we have transportation. We were living in St. George, Utah, at the time, and public transportation was non-existent.
I could have gotten alimony, but all I wanted was OUT and another six months was just too long to stay married. Stresses began piling up. After all the years of a stressful marriage, I was hoping the divorce would put an end to the stress. I just traded one kind for another.
My son and I decided that it may be better if we sold what we could and moved to Las Vegas, Nevada, where my daughter was at the time, and that is what we did. Adventure was my middle name: No job, no transportation, no skills, no income at all, and we dared to move! Of course, we both felt the job market would be better there, and we did have a little money to get an apartment.
My son had also found a VW bug that we had to push to get started, but that seemed to endear it to both of us. For the first couple of times, of course. It was semi-reliable, and he soon found work with day-labor/daily pay which helped. I tried, but with no skills, I was really at an impasse.
(Although I will try to make this chronological, I may be doing a lot of back-stepping. If I confuse you, please ask. As long as I'm airing my laundry, I may as well make sure it's mine and that it's clean!)
I would notice once in a while, that I would have achy pains in my elbows and knees, and would run a low-grade fever, but as nothing ever really developed, I blew it off as just being tired. Rest seemed to make it go away.
In July or August (maybe September) I found a job at a furniture repair store that had contracts with the major department stores, taking care of minor flaws in newly purchased furniture. Because of the circumstances, my son was also hired as the person to get the furniture and either fix it at the home or bring it into the shop.
At the time, neither of us realized this was going to be a real mess. The person who ran the shop was from England, and it seems that he had not renewed his visa, and the INS was hot on his trail. He was deported. The attorney who had provided the start-up money gave me the dubious honor of making sure that everything in the shop was finished and returned to the owners.
Easier said than done. The man who was deported was also restoring antiques in the shop, and also had an upholsterer who did side jobs for cash. What a can of worms!
I found myself becoming confused over small things, not sleeping, more aches in my knees and elbows, blurry vision, low-grade fever and balance problems.
This was the beginning of the onset...and all within eight months of my divorce.
To be continued....
Let's see...where was I? Oh yes. Soon after I finally divorced, I was looking for a job in earnest, but was hampered because by that time, I was a "displaced homemaker over 45," and I had no real professional background.
No typing skills, no computer skills, and the math skills were only available with a calculator. By this time, it seemed that most businesses wanted people with computer skills, and I knew I would have to do something or spend my life on my feet, trying to deal with customers who were unhappy.
With spinal arthritis from a fall I took as a tot, there was no way I was going to spend the rest of my life standing on my feet for eight to ten hours a day. Something had to be done.
My son had come to stay with me shortly after my divorce, but neither of us were employed, nor did we have transportation. We were living in St. George, Utah, at the time, and public transportation was non-existent.
I could have gotten alimony, but all I wanted was OUT and another six months was just too long to stay married. Stresses began piling up. After all the years of a stressful marriage, I was hoping the divorce would put an end to the stress. I just traded one kind for another.
My son and I decided that it may be better if we sold what we could and moved to Las Vegas, Nevada, where my daughter was at the time, and that is what we did. Adventure was my middle name: No job, no transportation, no skills, no income at all, and we dared to move! Of course, we both felt the job market would be better there, and we did have a little money to get an apartment.
My son had also found a VW bug that we had to push to get started, but that seemed to endear it to both of us. For the first couple of times, of course. It was semi-reliable, and he soon found work with day-labor/daily pay which helped. I tried, but with no skills, I was really at an impasse.
(Although I will try to make this chronological, I may be doing a lot of back-stepping. If I confuse you, please ask. As long as I'm airing my laundry, I may as well make sure it's mine and that it's clean!)
I would notice once in a while, that I would have achy pains in my elbows and knees, and would run a low-grade fever, but as nothing ever really developed, I blew it off as just being tired. Rest seemed to make it go away.
In July or August (maybe September) I found a job at a furniture repair store that had contracts with the major department stores, taking care of minor flaws in newly purchased furniture. Because of the circumstances, my son was also hired as the person to get the furniture and either fix it at the home or bring it into the shop.
At the time, neither of us realized this was going to be a real mess. The person who ran the shop was from England, and it seems that he had not renewed his visa, and the INS was hot on his trail. He was deported. The attorney who had provided the start-up money gave me the dubious honor of making sure that everything in the shop was finished and returned to the owners.
Easier said than done. The man who was deported was also restoring antiques in the shop, and also had an upholsterer who did side jobs for cash. What a can of worms!
I found myself becoming confused over small things, not sleeping, more aches in my knees and elbows, blurry vision, low-grade fever and balance problems.
This was the beginning of the onset...and all within eight months of my divorce.
To be continued....
For years, I have suffered from an insidious disease called CFIDS, or Chronic Fatigue and Immune Dysfunction Syndrome, sometimes referred to as CFS, or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Neither moniker does justice to life-changing onset.
My earliest recollection of this insidious disease goes back to 1989, and if I worked hard enough, I might be able to find an earlier date when there were symptoms of what was coming. However, it it hard to think in terms of what was going on inside me where there was so much going on outside me.
Since this is the first blog, I will attempt to help you familiarize yourself with the symptoms, and as time and entries go by, you will see how it has affected me and my life, as well as those around me.
It is not a pretty story, and it is long in the telling, and once I get to "the end" it will become more of a weekly journal and an update on my so-called life.
I hope you will bear with me and try to hang in for the long haul, as some days, making a blog entry will be an exercise in the nearly-impossible.
I welcome your comments.
'Face
My earliest recollection of this insidious disease goes back to 1989, and if I worked hard enough, I might be able to find an earlier date when there were symptoms of what was coming. However, it it hard to think in terms of what was going on inside me where there was so much going on outside me.
Since this is the first blog, I will attempt to help you familiarize yourself with the symptoms, and as time and entries go by, you will see how it has affected me and my life, as well as those around me.
It is not a pretty story, and it is long in the telling, and once I get to "the end" it will become more of a weekly journal and an update on my so-called life.
I hope you will bear with me and try to hang in for the long haul, as some days, making a blog entry will be an exercise in the nearly-impossible.
I welcome your comments.
'Face
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