What are you REALLY paying for?

Today I got home from work to a letter from the local free lawyer service, Pine Tree Legal. They help low income people with legal issues for free to save them from all the horrible people, especially landlords (like me) who would otherwise victimize them. The letter was regarding a previous tenant who is seeking compensation from us to the tune of $2000. Last spring she annihilated our septic system. As soon as the plumber began fixing it, her boyfriend began talking about how "the landlord is going to pay for this." This reported to us by the unfortunate soul we sent to fix the septic system, the same guy who was able to tell us what had really happened to the septic system to cause it to fail. The boyfriend who was ranting and raving was the same boyfriend who was living there "under the radar" because otherwise the tenant would not be eligible for Section 8. For those you not familiar with Section 8, they pay a portion of the rent for low income families. The portion they pay depends on the family's income. In this case, the tenant was paying about $33 for a 3 bedroom apartment. As a landlord I see a fair amount of single mother's with Section 8 who soon after moving in have the father of their child(ren) living with them and therefore are ineligible for the program. Hard to prove, but pretty obvious anyway.

After the septic system was fixed (that day), the tenant contacted a code enforcement officer and before he arrived, removed the fixed parts to create a scenario that would give the impression we had not taken care of the issues. They had told the person fixing the septic system they planned to take it apart after he left, so we had a little heads up on this one. Unfortunately, they did not put it back together so in the end the damage was extensive.

The tenant gave her notice and we had to wait 30 days before we could get in to even see what she claimed was so bad. Once we finally did, we found that sewage had gotten into the floors and the septic had not been working for some time because it had been taken apart.

We made a claim to our insurance company and the agent who visited was coincidentally, the same agent who dealt with the tenant's claim. Apparently, she had moved into a hotel, citing illness and unlivable conditions so the insurance company covered all of her expenses while she lived in a hotel. The agent was also faced with the boyfriend, who he had to tell to stay out of it because he "supposedly" was not part of the family. He too claimed to be sick and disoriented from the situation.

Our costs were over $10K because we had to replace the entire septic system and floors, rugs, etc. This does not even include months of rental income lost because of the time it took to do all of the repairs. We had heard through others that the tenant had contacted Pine tree and was looking to sue us, in fact that was the plan from day one. I have my thoughts about whether that was the plan before she even moved in, but that I'll never prove.

We waited and didn't hear anything for months. We assumed that Pine Tree did some leg work and figured out there weren't grounds to sue us on. At least that was our assumption before today. When we got the letter, we called the insurance agent who handled both our claims. Did he not tell us that we were covered from liability because she had gotten paid and it was the same insurance company? Luckily, he answered our call and verified that the request for this $2000 the tenant is seeking is "double dipping". He might have also mentioned that she's a "tool" (man, I love that word!) Anyway, I have a better word for it, it's called "FRAUD". And that's what I told the lawyer in the letter I wrote in reply to her audacious request for $2000 to cover the costs of temporary housing due to the septic system failure that the tenant herself caused. Yes, I mentioned "fraud" because I for one always call a spade a spade (in this case, the spade is actually a creature lower than prehistoric frog shit at the bottom of a New jersey scum pond). I also mentioned that the lawyer oughta call this agent for the full story and then kindly let us know when this issue has been resolved. To make it easier, I gave her his name and phone number, he's expecting her call. Perhaps I should have asked for an apology too...hmm but truthfully I'd rather never hear from this "creature from below the scum pond" again.

So its a long story, but in the end, this "creature from below the scum pond" bilked Section 8, Pine Tree, the insurance company and Eric & I. You may not care about Eric and I or the insurance company, but guess who's paying for Section 8 and Pine Tree! Before you think this story is rare, let it be known that I've been around social services for a little while now. I won't go there, but I'll also tell you as a landlord that I've seen many other sad excuses for human beings. For instance, a woman with 2 children with Section 8 who paid about $20 a month for a 3 bedroom, claiming the father of the children was involved but didn't live with her. What we observed was that he did live with her, he had a good paying job, they had 2 cars, a motorcycle, outdoor "toys", among many other possessions. We've had people dealing drugs, setting the place on fire, and outright stealing. We've evicted more people than we can count and the apartment building isn't even in a bad part of town. Many of these people accessed social service programs.

So, think about what you are paying for. I for one used to be a far out liberal, wanting programs for everything and everyone. I have seen the error in my thinking and have much different beliefs now. While I firmly believe we need programs to help people who are hurting financially or for reasons not of their making for example mental illness, there are too many people who are taking advantage of those programs by bilking the system. My strongest advocacy and support goes out to children who need every chance we can give them. No child deserves to be hungry, hurt or to live in squalor regardless of how dishonest and corrupt their parents are. I am advocating for mandates to be set and followed so we can save our money and ourselves from dishonest people without making the children suffer. Surely there must be a way because what these children are learning by watching their unlawful, blood sucking parents is not good for them or our future society. When Clinton was president he revamped the welfare system and instituted sterner welfare to work programs. Maine has staunchly resisted the mandates and sadly there are still people who are not working when they are physically able to, even after the supposed 5 year lifetime limit on welfare benefits. It's time for Maine to get with the program!

Knitting for Coworkers

I just finished a fun project for a coworker of mine...a roll of toilet paper. She's had a rough couple of months so I thought I'd try to cheer her up a bit. A few months ago as part of a slew of money saving changes, the toilet paper was changed at work to a cheaper brand. Let's just say the change was uncomfortable for most of us to adjust to, in fact I may have gotten a paper cut at one point but I never looked to be sure. My coworker, in a mad frenzy to literally save her ass decided to grab any of the old toilet paper she could find and hoarded it in her office. Some of us chose to honor her ingenuity by decorating her office with the toilet paper one day while she was out. This is just another installment on the toilet paper legacy.

In other knitting related news, my flair for legwarmers seems to be catching on. I will refrain from complaining that it has taken several years of relentless work for this to finally happen. At least my legwarmer craze was acknowledged by most of my coworkers. If you ask one of my closer colleagues to describe me, legwarmers will come up. While I am a closet legwarmer wearer in some ways (I wear them under my pants), I am open to discussing my love for them and showing them off when the slightest bit of interest is shown.

Recently a beloved coworker/friend of mine sent me a beautiful card with a dog wearing legwarmers. She then told me a story about trying to buy some small legwarmers for her granddaughter's doll only to discover at the register that they were doggie legwarmers. She explained that she couldn't for the life of her figure out why they would sell 4 legwarmers that were the same for a doll instead of two different sets. Unfortunately the price for a set of doggie legwarmers is a bit drastic, so the poor doll had none. That's when I stepped in to save the day. Not only was her granddaughter very happy with the legwarmers, she has sent me a message. "Thank you and my doll needs boots."

Shhh, this is a secret. I am beginning my preparations for a set of 4 legwarmers for her dog, Jenna. It is just the next phase in my all out crusade to bring legwarmers back out into the open where their beauty can be enjoyed by all. Waaa Haaa Haaa!

Love the tree...

...As you love me

Today was pretty uneventful. More specifically I was feeling too under the weather to notice much if anything eventful was happening. So I ended up packing it in and heading home early from work, hoping to just vegetate for a while and forget how lousy I was feeling while I waited for some pain meds to kick in. When I was home long enough for the meds to start working and my feet to start moving, I got up and noticed "a problem". My son's tree was lying on its side in the backyard. I immediately realized how completely awful this was and how telling my son would be almost as bad as telling him one of the pets had died. I also immediately realized that it was unlikely an accident that the tree was in its current position, remembering what my children had recently told me about the new neighbor children saying they had wanted to cut it down. At the time my son had informed them that it was HIS tree and that they could not go into our yard and cut it down.

The tree was obtained as nothing more than a small sprig when my oldest was less than a year old at the Maine State Parade, a parade that he and Eric were in. We planted it that year in our yard and a couple years later (when the picture was taken) we moved it to make room for some landscaping we were doing. When we moved here about 5 and a half years ago, it was transplanted again, here in the corner of our backyard. We have watched it grow into what was, until recently, a tree taller than our son! I regret not taking a picture this past fall with my son in front of it when I talked about doing it. That brings me to the moral of the story.

In the past several months I have learned more than I ever wanted about doing things and not putting them off. I can't begin to list all the things I regret not doing now that I never will, or even the things I wish I could do 1 more time, like dance, ice skate, run etc.

When I went out to look at the tree more closely, I saw that it wasn't cut at the bottom, but had been cut about halfway down, about 4 feet. I asked the neighbor child who was at that moment playing in our stream if he knew what had happened. I informed him that it appeared to have been cut, judging by the hatchet marks. He denied doing it, although I still had my suspicions.

I was unbelievably relieved that it wasn't gone completely even though it will never grow the same again. It got me thinking how much that tree is like me now. It will never grow the same but at least its alive and will still be special to us if we allow ourselves to change our belief about how its supposed to be. As Eric and my oldest went through their rage and disappointment over the tree, I stopped them to remind them its okay to be angry and grieve over it, but that it isn't a total loss. I shared with them how the tree is more special to me now because it can help remind us about accepting things in a new way, like me with my illness. I also told them in no uncertain terms can it ever be cut down now, even if it doesn't have the right shape. Eric agreed that we can help it grow into a new shape and helped explain to the kids that it will never have the Christmas tree shape we had planned for it but that will be okay.

That being said, Eric still went straight over to the new neighbors and told the mother what had happened. He was angry (very angry) but he kept his cool and showed the mother and the son the picture of our son with the tree. He explained how it is special and can't be replaced with another tree because of the sentiment its held for us and our son over the years. Again the boy denied it, so Eric told them that he would be calling the police to make a report. Incidentally, shortly after the policeman left our house, the mother showed up with her son to admit he'd done it and to apologize. Even though he did it, it helped make the situation a little easier to accept when he owned up to it. It probably also helped salvage a potentially bad relationship with the new neighbors, since this was our first and only interaction with them, they have only been here about a month.

I have to admit that I am making lots of parallels in the world now as I deal with this unrelenting pain. I am almost certain I will be diagnosed with RSD aka Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy or more recently called CRPS. It is not a good thing and I tried for a long time to deny I might have it. There was a time when I was spending time every day researching all the possible diagnoses I could get. Believe it or not, I would actually try to choose some over others, thinking this or that would be better than this one or that one. It sounds pretty ridiculous but I guess being in this situation can seem ridiculous anyway. I would continue to "up the ante" and knowing it was a little worse than I had previously allowed myself to believe, choose one that was unthinkable a only few weeks before. I think it was my way of preparing myself for whatever would come and trying to have some control over accepting one thing over another. However, I had become well versed in RSD/CRPS and had refused to accept that one, even though it seemed eerily similar to my symptoms. In fact, I showed Eric some information on it one day that I had printed off and he thought I had made it up, thinking the symptoms and thoughts about it could have been written by me.

I haven't been diagnosed with it yet, but two doctors have brought it up and the last neurologist is going to test me for it at the end of February. I have wanted a diagnosis for so long but I really don't want this one. The odds aren't in my favor for it to be anything less than debilitating, even with a positive attitude and a will to fight against it. It was has been said by some to be the most painful of the chronic pain conditions. I have already gotten to the stage where irreparable twisting in my arm has taken place. I just keep believing that with the right help I can overcome it and stay positive. I am fighting everyday to let my brain decide how I feel, not my body. Some days its more of a struggle than others, but I don't plan to ever give up. I will keep feeding my mind with positive information and thoughts, changing my perception about how things should be and being satisfied with how they can be. That's what I can control and I intend to do that. My body almost seems like this separate entity, a demon, trying to take over, but I will fight it and ask for help on the days it seems impossible. There are days when I feel sad about losing the person I used to be, or the things I can't do anymore, but I don't dwell on that. I just have to accept the person I am now and not even fear what may happen in the future. This serves me well and has given me some release not only from that loss but from so many other ditty little things that haggle us through life.

Limping Along

Well, tis the season for sitting on Santa's lap. We took the kids to visit and get their photo this weekend.
I got a special surprise when two of my "other children" gave me a special photo of them sitting on Santa's lap. I laughed so hard it hurt. It doesn't take much. They really aren't kids at all, as the photo will tell, but I have the great pleasure of working with them and supervising them.


I have to admit that my previous optimism over my health problems has waned over the past few days. Unfortunately, I had placed too much stock and hope in the second opinion I went for from a neurologist in Portland. I realized too late that I had been expecting that visit to be the light at the end of the tunnel and hadn't really prepared myself for anything but that. He wasn't bad, but certainly not promising in delivering any more answers. He wasn't even willing to answer me when I asked outright what the worst case scenario is, and if the possibility exists that I could die. I don't spend too much time contemplating dying, but it does occasionally enter my mind that the longer I wait for answers, the further along something catastrophic could be getting. It hasn't helped that my current pain medications are starting to fail and I am struggling to even walk now. I have accepted that I likely have a permanent limp and I can handle that, but the pain is not something I am willing to accept. I use a cane to walk in the house and now have to seriously consider if I am ready to start using it in public. I also have a tremor in my hand that before came and went, but now seems to be here for good. The neurologist told me that I have carpal tunnel syndrome and even suggested that my tremor might be anxiety. That was just plain stupid! First of all, the fact that I have carpal tunnel is not even worth my time to think about. It is so mild compared to everything else that I could care less about it. Second of all, the only thing I even worry about is talking to doctors, since everything else seems mild in comparison. If it was anxiety, I can't help but think it would be in both hands, not just in my affected side. I don't believe I even have the ability to be stressed or anxious about life and work, even though he kept alluding to the idea that I have a stressful job.

I have learned to live in the moment and really think only about today, every day. I have found ways to be nurturing and available to my children that don't need much physical exertion. In a nutshell, I have LET GO of many of my own expectations and worrying about whether people think I am a good mother, wife or employee. That is one of the positive changes I have seen from all of this. For the first time I have realized what it means to really stop and "smell the roses". I sit more and listen to my children, watching and just letting them know that I love them. It's hard to believe that before I was so busy trying to be "Supermom" that I missed many of the really special moments. Yeah, my house isn't as clean, but overall it isn't bad. I just take shortcuts wherever I can. I am still hopeful (naive?) but discouraged with the doctors. I have so many things in life to be grateful for and I don't intend to let anything stop me from enjoying them. I am not sure what the next step is for me with doctors and testing, but I guess in a few days I'll figure it out and move on. For today, I will do my best to muddle through the pain and look forward to celebrating my birthday with Eric for a few days in Kennebunkport.

Johnny the Superhero

I have only gotten to wear 2 johnny's this week, that is if you consider the cape like contraption I wore today a johnny. (Of course, it is only Thursday so there is hope I'll get called to wear another one tomorrow!) The nurse called it a Johnny, but it was really a cape with one tiny snap in the front. If it hadn't been covered in brightly colored flowers, was made of yarn and worn over the rest of my clothing, I may have actually liked it. I wore this for my mammogram and at one point when the nurse had flipped it back over my shoulders I told her I felt like a superhero with a flowery cape. The really great news is that my mammogram came out positive, nothing to worry about. And, if I do say so myself, my boobs look even better on film!

Yesterday I had a second cortisone shot in my neck. Since I was well prepared for the johnny and the back bearing, I had Eric write out a message for the doctor on my back. It said, "What's up Doc?" I think the doctor must expect just about anything because he took it in stride, even though I have noticed that he has a great sense of humor. Speaking of humor, the amount of time I spend going to doctors and the hospital for tests is getting beyond ridiculous. That and the frequent phone calls. When I told the receptionist at work I was going to the hospital again today she just shook her head in dismay. I told her I like to spend my spare time there, and I am getting to know a lot of people. Next week I have two appointments, so far. It's almost hard to believe that a year ago I would've done just about anything to avoid doctors and didn't take any medications, not even a vitamin. I don't even sweat it anymore when I have to bare naked parts, get injected, or subject myself to boob smooshage.

I have been working on knitting but things are getting done much slower than usual. I went through a knitting funk for a week or so where nothing seemed to turn out right. I started a second sock for "Mini Me" and realized that somehow I had counted wrong and had done several more rows of ribbing than I was supposed to. I switched over to a pair of mitts for my nephew but couldn't seem to get into it. It suddenly came to me a few nights ago that I really needed to knit with something extra soft and that would fix my "problem". I immediately came up with an idea and resurrected the angora that I bought at Spa last year. That seems to be just what I needed. I am making a hooded scarf with it and I'm almost done with the hood! I had forgotten how soft and utterly amazing this yarn is to knit with. I am already trying to think of another project so I can pick up some more at SPA this year. Eventually, I'll need to finish the sock and the mitts. I think my nephew will cast me out of the family if I don't make him those mitts soon. I have worked on several smaller projects and I am totally itching to make a sweater. I haven't decided what sweater I'll make, but immediately after the Xmas knitting is done, I will be casting on.

It's a birthday tree

When I was a child and went to visit my grandparents one of the things we would do around this time of year was go out and cut a birthday tree for my mother and I. My grandmother died when I was 8 and my grandfather died a year later when I was 9. Although the house my grandfather built was still in the family, there wasn't the same tie that brought us all together at that house in North New Portland.
Today Eric and I took the kids up there for the first time. We went up Millay Hill Road, where generations of my mother's family lived, back then without electricity or plumbing. In recent years electricity has been brought part way up the hill but there is still this vast forest up that hill that is relatively untouched and primitive. My cousin and his wife live up there, a hefty walk into the woods with solar panels providing electricity and hot water. My grandparents house is at the bottom of the hill, currently owned by another cousin and occupied only a few times a year. Across the field is a farm house where my great grandmother lived when I was very young.
It was hard to imagine that I had never brought my children there before. Tradition is very important to me and I try to pass on as much to my children as I can. Even though 25 years have passed since my grandparents were alive, the land and house still hold vivid memories for me. It was a long drive, 2 hours each way, to get a birthday tree. But the tree is special, because it came from Millay Hill Road in North New Portland, one of the most special places on earth. It's been over 25 years since I have had one of these.

Johnny my love

I've gotten one on my neck, one on my hip, three on my lower back, and today I got one on my chest. Nope, those aren't tattoos, those are the x-rays I have gotten over the past few months. Two were just this week. By the time I was crawling into my third johnny of the week earlier today, I couldn't help but hum that ol' Liz Fair tune, "Dance of the Seven Veils"
Johhny my love, get out of the business
It makes me wanna rough you up so badly
Makes me wanna roll you up in plastic
Toss you up and pump you full of lead

This was moments after a phone conversation with my PCP where she was instructing me to go for the chest x-ray and telling me it's time to get "aggressive". I adore her, but part of me wanted to say "huh huh, when did that become apparent?" I am thinking of the mounting medical bills from all of the CT scans, lumbar puncture, blood tests, EMG, nerve conduction and x-rays. Not to mention the several doctors and physical therapy, which I failed. Not only am I getting weary of the radiology dept at CMMC and inconclusive tests, but dammit I HATE johnny's!

Earlier this week I donned one to get a cortisone shot in my neck, where I might have arthritis. I am waiting patiently for that to work so that I can go next week to do it all again. I am also waiting for the radiology dept to tell me when I can pay them another visit for a diagnostic mammogram and an ultrasound of my heart. The mammogram is on the advice of my neurologist deciding that although he doesn't think I have breast cancer, he can't figure out what might me causing my problems so maybe I have breast cancer, of course, not that he thinks so, but it could explain those things. (that was almost a direct quote, without the hands up in the air, baffled look attached) It's almost become an office joke that I spend all my lunches at the doctor's or radiology dept. Sometimes I do both. I am not concerned so much about the breast cancer, since I have almost had MS, arthritis, fibromayalgia, swollen lymph nodes and probably a few other things I've forgotten. I definitely have pinched nerves and can't walk without limping, but I don't know why. I've come to the conclusion that it's better not to worry until I get something worth worrying about.

The highlight of my adventures to the x-ray room was definitely today. Usually I get to keep my bra on under my johnny, but not today. No, I got to bare all under that bare thread tablecloth with strings I had wrapped around me. Not only did I get to sport that God awful contraption in an upright position, but the x-ray was pointing right at the spot that would prove to the world that my anatomy is not quite as perky as it used to be. The part that almost did me in (sometimes I swear I'm going to laugh myself to death) was when I got to sit in a chair a few feet away from some workmen doing demolition on the x-ray room. Yes, I must have looked so regal there in my johnny, boobs on my lap staring awkwardly askance, pretending to have a great fascnination with the clock, strategically keeping my gaze away from the men at work. One thing I have learned, modesty flies out of the window when you have the "great mysterious illness".

But no matter what, I will still reign supreme as the Queen of the backyard hot tub!