Every Time it Rains, It Rains Tumors from Heaven

I love doctors. They're so much fun, the way they spring shit on you like it's no big. Like yesterday. I went to the Emergency Room the day before yesterday because I'd been trying to get Dr. Pokearound on the phone since Monday with no go. I had such pain in my abdomen and side that all I could do was get to the bathroom, check out the urine in my bloodstream as it hit the toilet, and go back to bed to cry. I had no pain meds. This doctor has an online form for Rx refills and medical questions so I started filling that out twice a day because yeah, I'm a bitch. Finally on Friday I get a VOICEMAIL telling me the doctor isn't giving me those meds anymore but if I have a question I can call him on Monday. So basically, "Fuck you, bitch, suffer through the weekend."

As some of you know, and some of you don't (I say that like I have an audience of more than 5 including my family and Chefman), I work with families who are living in shelters or about to be living in shelters. Many of them have disabled children. Most of those children are autistic, a condition that is vastly misunderstood and hell on earth for the caretaker. It's not a cute and cuddly condition. These children are difficult, let's be honest. Many of them cannot express their emotions appropriately, especially love or affection. I'm not an expert on the subject because,and I thank God for this, while my two girls are little limbs of satan and can drive you batshit crazy in a matter of minutes, they are, by all of the charts published, perfectly healthy (I have my OWN chart but no one takes that seriously). But all autistic children are not the same. They do not display in the same way from child to child. I have a few friends whose children are autistic - one is completely non-verbal, one cannot bear to be touched, one cannot bear to be alone....the point is, these kids are as different from one another as so-called "normal" children. The one thing they do have in common is you never know what's going to happen next, and caring for them, while it can be rewarding, is a challenge and also frustrating.

Now,add poverty and an eviction and no food to the mix and you know what I'm trying to deal with and trying to fix, or at least ease. So when I feel like I can't walk without crying, my job becomes problematic. Also, it's not really my job. I don't get paid for this. I started Zephyr for Kids as a non-profit VOLUNTEER SIDELINE to try to help get kids out of foster care and back with their families and to try to find permanent housing, food and jobs for homeless families with kids. It's evolved into something greater, and I'm still doing it alone out of my bedroom. Actually, I'm doing it on my bed. Chefman loves that. "Feel like a little nookie, sweet cheeks?" "DUDE! WATCH THE FUCKING BUDGET WHAT THE HELL? GET YOUR NAKED ASS OFF THE RECEIPTS!! I HOPE YOU SHOWERED!" Yeah. He's a saint. But he drives the clothing donations miles and miles and he helps put bunk beds together and he teaches little boys to play geeky role play games and how to beat up bullies so I think I'll keep him around.

But I digress. Friday I had to go to the ER because I just couldn't bear the pain anymore. While I was there they put in 3 IV's and did two CT's, one with contrast, one without. I had a kidney stone - hence the red drank pouring into the toilet - and so they shot me up with dilaudid and sent me home with percocet (10 of them - because they're all heart). I didn't sleep because now I had work to catch up on, like tax forms. Yesterday I was trying to clean the hovel when the phone rang. It was radiology from the Arkham Hospital and Asylum (as I like to call North Shore LIJ). It turns out that the "lesion" on my right kidney isn't really a lesion at all - it's a "cluster of growths that could possibly be tumors." Well. That's special. So what are you trying to say, Dr. Demento? Well, what Dr. Demento was trying to say is that I could likely have kidney cancer.

But they have a plan. Put me on dialysis for a week. Then do a biopsy - which entails cutting into my side, pulling out the kidney, cutting out the growths that they CAN cut out (because some of them are on major roadways for blood flow and we don't want me to bleed to death or anything), pop that bad boy back in and spend another week on dialysis while they figure out just exactly wtf it is. If it's cancer, then I get to join the folks on the organ registry. Besides, if I can't afford to pay for the weekly laptop payment, where am I gonna get money for a kidney?

First of all, that's not shit I want to hear on the phone when I'm in the middle of cleaning my vertical blinds. Second of all, don't you really only need ONE kidney? Granted, the other one sends up stones like a gravel quarry but other than that it does it's job. And last, if I go through all this I'll have to take so much time in bed that I won't be able to run Zephyr (or work at ALL).

So I went nuts. I splattered all my social networks with notices that I was going to have to shut down Zephyr for Kids because I can't do it by myself. And, to my amazement, I got so many responses from people (people who I didn't even think were paying attention) telling me to keep on keeping on, that I can't just quit. I have an angel who doesn't even know me, named Heather, doing a fundraiser through her Scentsy business (flame-less candles that make your house smell like a big building full of awesome). The link for her Scentsy fundraiser will be up as soon as I get it. And our Zephyr FB page is https://www.facebook.com/Zephyr4Kids. We have 30 people so far who "like" us (which is probably more people than like me in real life). People have promised to PayPal $5, $10, $35, even a dollar. And this morning there was a bag of deposit bottles next to my car for me to return. It scares me that I'm becoming less cynnical. But I am.

How do I let people like that down. How do I let down kids who can make THAT FACE that could make the Heat Miser turn into St. Francis of Assisi? How do I say no to the mother of a child who just wants to hear her kid say "I love you mom?" Or who even just wants a half hour break? I can't, that's how. So screw my kidney. If they hadn't said anything I wouldn't have known. I would have just assumed it hurt like it always hurts and kept it moving. I will get a second opinion because I'm not suicidal. And if I need to have dialysis, I guess I'll do it. I can always work off the laptop while I sit there (that is assuming that Rent A Center doesn't come for it because right now I can't afford today's payment - you may not hear from me for a while, and I can hear you all saying "Well THAT is a blessing" so shutties).

But I'm not giving up on my moms and dads and my kids. I have grown to love them, and I want to do this for them. We're SO close to getting the first house. I didn't let that creepy grease-ball with the bad check shut me down (of course, I ate Ramen noodles for weeks afterward so I could cover the bank overdraft but I needed to lose weight anyway). I'm certainly not going to let my KIDNEY stop me.

If you would like to help us out, you can go to the Donate button on this blog and send us a buck or 5 or 10. It's all deductible. I know it's a bad time for everyone, and I certainly am not asking you to take away food or holiday treats from your own family. But if you find a little extra in your sofa cushions or car seats or in your laundry, please help. We also accept items, like clothes, used electronics, bedding (no furniture please, the guy donating the storage space decided we were dirty hippies, called us the 99% and changed the locks - what a sweetie) at Zephyr for Kids, 93 Bellerose Ave, Rear Enrance Door 2, East Northport, NY 11731, (631) 754-1564. My cell is (631) 275-9104. It's a cheap ass ghetto phone so you can't text but I can give you directions.

Thank you to all who have helped so far. And for those that are on the fence, please know that we're not a scam. We do provide receipts and documentation. And the kids will even bake you a cake. Heather is getting hers today.