|Written by Ricey Wild,
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Itís been awhile since Iíve been able to write and thereís an awful reason for that. December 23, 2015, I had another lumbar spinal fusion surgery. Iíve already been through a previous one in March 2012 so knowing what I was in for I felt horrible and it was traumatic for me.
Well, having Ďbeen thereí and knowing what I was in for (or so I thought) I thoroughly researched and cross-listed everything I knew was the most important, like my dog Mitzi and my catís needs plus. And, this is critical, my employerís knowledge of my impending surgery and the NEUROSURGEONíS recommendation that I have 12 weeks of recovery time before I return to work. I know that sounds like a home vay-cay to some folks, but since I was only making cents above minimum wage it was all I had. Not cool.
Before the big surgery I KNOW I had all professional and home pet care stuff taken care, even clean undies and a clear space to roll my new walker through. Me! A walker! Actually, itís just cute, and has one of those seats with a bag you can put your stuff in underneath.
After I got home I received a visit from an in-home Physical Therapist which I needed desperately so I could learn how to function and walk normally again. Then I got a call from her saying I had been cut off the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA) and do I have another insurance company? Well, it took me a bit to let that sink in, but no, I didnít have another one. Not long after that, I got a certified letter from my now former† employer saying I had been terminated from my job, one reason being I had not been in contact with them telling them when I would return to work.
People, that was one of the most important things I did; made sure I had a job to return to, never mind the toxic workplace I was forced to put up with daily. I had a job to do, I did it. Unreal. Then I got a call asking when I was going to come get my personal items, mostly books, etc... and hereís me housebound not allowed to heft more than 5 pounds. I laughed. I am unable to even carry the dust outta there, never mind the other heavy stuff.
Okay then, that kind of vicious, rez-backward idiocy I can deal with, but fate wasnít done with me yet. Late one night I got a call that changed everything; my Sonís life, my Granddaughterís life, and my own reason for even bothering to stick around this vile, hateful environment (by that I mean this life).
But hey, Iím still here and gonna stick around to make sure that those who conciously set out to hurt me get theirs. And Iím going to keep writing, on a blog or essays perhaps, to bring awareness where before there was none. Uh uh. That is over because I am becoming an active participant in any way I can. Marching may be out of my agenda right now but Iím there, too.
One other thing I will do is if I say ďIím here for you, let me knowĒ that is exactly what I will do and then some. Iíve never been so alone in my life and it really, really sucks. I even gave money and did favors to someone I thought was my friend, and who I thought would help me and stop by now and then to see if I was alive or dead. Nope.
Then thereís the time I needed stuff and the only person who helped me didnít have a car at all but he did it to just to help me. We used a taxi. He helped me put everything away and said he will help me, not just leave us to rot. Miigwech. M, you saved my faith in humanity just when I was so done with everything and everyone.
That is the reason Iíve been gone. The pain, the medications and sorrows. I wish you all well and happy my friends. One thing I know for sure we are not alone in our troubles and trials, somehow Creator gives us the strength to go on.
Creator is why we are here so I suppose I take it that Iím here to make a good difference. We can all do this together, our communities are in severe crisis due to drugs. And I donít know of any Indian family, including mine, who has not been affected. Letís start with that.