I know this is a long article, but I wanted you to know why I chose to get into the paranormal, why I think the way I do, and now what is going on in my life.

To whom it may concern
I remember as a kid my father getting up in the middle of the night to eat peanut butter for his sugar would drop from the diabetes. I also remember him getting these weird rings on his legs, from what I had no idea. Dealing with my dad’s diabetes was strange as a kid, different diets, pills being popped, and then the needles at one point for the insulin injections. He had it so called under control then. I had no idea it was Agent Orange or even what that was. I remember looking at all the military photos of him in wet gear under ground and all through the forests of the war. Had no idea they had dumped all the poison on him and the rest of the men and women and how it would become my life at the age of 18.

I was about to graduate high school when it all started to snow ball. I remember on January 1st 1999, my father had called me from our house in Orlando Florida telling me he was about to go to the hospital because he was having a heart attack. I never felt so scared in my life. My dad, a 52 year old having a heart attack and I was just a kid. What did this mean, is he ok, will he be ok, I thought. I couldn’t even go in his hospital room. That made me feel so guilty, but to me I was to young for this. My mother with crones disease me and my brother could handle, We were used to here being in and out of hospitals but our dad, our provider no way. He was treated and we were on our way in a few days. Then 9 months later another heart attack. This put enough stress on me to start researching anti-depressants, and figure out my life if he was going to die. I though about his death day and night. I was worrying to the point of insanity. Little did I know he had a heart attack in February and did not tell any one. He worked a lot so when he wasn’t around that is where we thought he was, not hiding out in a hospital and not telling the family so he wouldn’t worry us. He had a procedure done and had a Stent put in. Now he was ok I thought. We are good and happy and healthy.

A few years later, I was in art college and getting ready to go to a different college to become a computer graphics artist. I got into Full Sail, a great college and I was stoked. I was going to start soon, then one day my dad called me and put his friend on the phone, I was like what is wrong and why can’t he speak, he said they were in the hospital and to come right away. I was terrified, all over again, thoughts of dad going away, what was I going to do. I got there and found out no heart attack, wonderful I thought. Nope, little did I know this would be the snow ball that started rolling again. He had a stroke. He couldn’t talk very well and his arm was screwed up, of course it had to be his right arm, the writing hand that was paralyzed. This was just not happening. They said therapy could help and all that. They didn’t try to reverse the stroke with any medicine at all. We went home so he could start recovery, then a few days later he had another one. Back to the hospital, less motor skills, and on and on. This happened 4 more times. He was only 56. This is where I took over, I started working 90 hour weeks serving and bartending. I took over all the bills. 900 dollar rent, 2 cars and so on. I had no life and we had no food. I mean no food. I had to steal food for my dad from work so he wouldn’t go into a diabetic coma. I was so stressed, couldn’t afford my meds so the way I coped was self-mutilation. Obviously not the healthiest way to deal with problems. I started the process of SSD and that took beyond forever, from trying to get information from a man who can’t speak or write was frustrating and difficult to say the least. Some one mentioned the VA. I was like the VA, what can they do for us. It was a way for his medical problems to be taken care of. I was so relieved, finally some help. I wish I had a computer to be able to look into things and I couldn’t hit the library because of work and taking care of my father. Getting my dad enrolled wasn’t easy again for all the info was hard to get. His military proof as well was a nightmare. He finally stared getting care. We were bumped all over the system and clinics like there was no tomorrow .I didn’t know what was going on half the time and who to talk with. The social worker at the Orlando VA was no help. My dad got an diabetes ulcer on his foot around this time. He also needed IV fluids. They sent me home with all the equipment and supplies to take care of these 2 problems. So a non trained 22 year old GIRL had to take a Q-Tip and stick it all the way through her dad’s foot, then stuff medicine and cotton up into a cavity to stop an infection from happening before and after work as well as change an IV 4 times a day, yes driving home from work change an IV and go back. It is not that I didn’t ask for help like I said before, no one would point me in the right direction on what to do or who to talk with. I got my father into the VA benefits so we could get some food money. He was getting approximately 231.00 from VA benefits and social security had kicked in so we moved out of the house into an apartment. I had found that there started to be more weird things going on with my father. From all the new medication he was on he started having accidents. I couldn’t take it any more. I put him in the nursing home on the VA of Orlando’s property. They used all his money to have him stay there. I thought I would finally get a break at least from him, I was still working about 70 hours now a week to pay off dept and catch up. He wasn’t there that long and he had to come home with me before they had to send him to a Tampa nursing home for a month or so before they sent him to Miami to have surgery on his foot. The care that I did on his foot was no help he had to get a toe removed.

He came back to Orlando and it started all over again taking care of him, working 90 hours again and being all over the system, getting laser surgery on his eye, prostate surgery, and diabetes therapy. His health was just awful. His feet started getting neuropathy, as well as the bottom half of his legs, but he kept walking and trucking along which was great. I was excited that the strokes did not completely take his motor skills over. We had gone to over 50 doctors appointments in a matter of 4 years, maybe more. I again needed a break. I sent my dad to Oklahoma to live with my mother who had crones disease. She had been in and out of hospitals since I was 4 or 5. From having 20 surgeries and an Ostomy. She was in a little house on her mom’s property. Very convenient and around family, plus I had some help which was great. My mom put my dad in the Oklahoma VA system. She had class and had to drop him off sometimes, so with him and no speech I am sure was just a disaster in the clinics. This went on for a year or so, they were divorced so they lived in separate parts of a 600 square foot house. He was always coughing and blowing his nose which drove her nuts. She coped by drinking. She was not happy with the situation at all, it was really messing with her crones, making her have all kind s of other health problems, from her pancreas and her weight. She was considered anorexic because all the food she ate was not getting absorbed. I told my mother to get ready to come live with me, I will get a 3 bedroom apartment, so we all could live together again, at least the state would be sunny and warm and more help for her having me take care of my dad. She was very excited and so was my dad. I found a 3 bedroom place and started the process of moving in, when I got a call. My mother had passed away, I feel like it was all my fault. Putting the strain of my dad on her caused her health to just go down hill. I thought she was going to able to be happy again. She did not get the chance, so I moved my dad back to Orlando with me in a 2 bedroom. Back to the same routine.

In all this craziness, I was never able to have kids, get married or even have relationships, and no college. We had gone to so many appointments and talked with so many people at the VA, there are memories that I think about all the time. These are the memories of clerks, nurses, and all kinds of staff being so awful, and I don’t mean incompetent with their practice, they were rude, mean, impatient, and made me feel like I was not doing enough. What else was I supposed to do? My mom had died, I felt like it was my fault, my dad is very disabled, we are broke, and I am still making all the appointments, and working over time. Me and my dad would rate our visits, not on the diagnoses but on how nice the people were to us that day. I know working for the government and dealing with very sick veterans has to be taxing, but when I walk out of the VA crying 3 out of 5 appointments, there needs to be some reason why things are not organized, if you would just answer a question or, two, I am sure we would get out of your hair and we would be pointed in the right direction. It was about a year later when a doctor said my dad had to get reevaluated. They only had my father as 20% disabled and that is why we were only getting 230.00 from VA disability. We got to talk to a man I will never forget named Andy McCormick. He pointed us in the right direction, telling us we had a car allowance, back pay, clothes allowance and all kinds of things to help us out. We have not been that happy in years. We decided to get a new start and move to Las Vegas. We were able to get two, 400 square foot apartments a few doors down from each other. I was able to have my own place, which was very important to me. I was a young women and living with your father is not very appropriate. So dad’s health was stable and we had food and clothes and we were happy. I started writing and not bartending anymore, and that was great. I was able to travel and see some beautiful places. I had to get my dad back into the VA system in Las Vegas. I looked into getting life insurance for him. Because of the agent orange we could not get any through regular companies. Now that no one told us there was a deadline with the VA’s life insurance that was out too. Once again I felt like people were not telling me things on purpose. They didn’t want to help! The only life insurance I was able to get was accidental. He never really left the house it was pointless.

We started the process in February, about a year and 3 months after we moved. More problems started to arise, ulcers in his feet, he couldn’t even feel his feet any more as well. Diabetes had gotten worse, we had to do insulin injections now. His right eye was completely blind. They said if he had a new condition then we could get life insurance. So we started that process, the new ischemic heart disease release was going to help us out a lot. His heart, age and everything would meet the requirements. By this point we had gone to 30 doctors appointments. The social worker at the East clinic in Las Vegas was great. She got someone to help me out with his feet. The first time around was traumatizing. I still remember the little things that really mess up my emotions now a days. Like the voice on the intercom at the Orlando VA, is the same voice that is used in the grocery store I go to .I think about finding my dad dead all the time because of all the strokes. I write about death because it is so familiar.

Jan the social worker, was great and he had a slew of things to be done. Mainly his heart. We had an appointment that got moved a week later because the nurse said she had another commitment and she was the only one who knew how to work the equipment. Two other appointments had gotten moved for what ever reason. One I remember because they didn’t have a piece of equipment at that location, so we had to go to a different clinic. Things were being over looked left and right. At one of the cardiology appointments, the assistant doctor said that he would need another echo because they couldn’t see what was really going on. They had to inject him with ink to see better. That is a day or two before the one appointment got moved because of the lady that had a previous commitment. In my world that means it had nothing to do with her job, and she blew us off.

I had talked to my dad and told him that his appointments had gotten canceled but he had one on Monday. This was Tuesday. I ordered groceries for him to be delivered on Thursday. I woke up and had not heard from him, as in, if he needed smokes, or soda. I called the nurse lady, that comes and takes care of his feet and she said she had been by the house. I was relieved, until she said he did not answer the door. I called management to open his door, and they sent over two guys to do so. They walked in, and he was on the floor of the bathroom. My father died on April 29th 2010. Was it something they could have done, I totally believe so. The amount of times we had been at the doctors, and they always said that his heart was irregular. Why did they not look further into it. His main primary care doctor even wrote it as heart and diabetes. I am alone now. It has been one day with out my dad. I have no skills to do anything but work in restaurants. We paid all of our debt with the back pay and now I am broke, scared and parentless. No life insurance and if there is benefits for a child at the age of 29 for taking care of a veteran no one has told me. I feel like this whole time I was moving against a current.

I have to plan his funeral now with no money. I thought when a veteran who fought for your freedom was in need that a fellow soldier would be there. I feel like out of the hundreds of military staff that I have come in contact with, maybe 4 really cared, and pointed me in the direction needed. I attempted suicide twice and still have a habit of self mutilation. It has been to much for a young women to handle. I thought I did the best I could. Now the guilt is just a new emotion to deal with. What is wrong with people? My dad was only 63, and I found him dead, with his TV on and a soda by his chair, lying on the bathroom floor, he didn’t even know he was going to die. I want to say to all the people who were mean to us, thank you very much for making all this so memorable, and I will have the thoughts of your sighs and annoyance run through my head forever. I will also remember the dirty looks and judgment you passed when you had to DEAL with us. I starved, had blood squirt on me, became a cutter on ant-depressants, changed IVs, and found feces because my father was on so many drugs he had an accident. I will also mention, I blame myself for my mother dying, and now the same feeling for my dad, all before I am 30. Thank you for such a scary life.

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