I feel like writing a quick post to summarize my life today; I could probably do that accurately in one or two sentences. However, I'm going to stretch it out a bit.
I still have a difficult time believing that the moderators and owner of BF have given me such shit over holding a raffle to benefit cancer research. Especially when I'm going to such lengths to give people the best possible chances I can, and I'm spending my own time and money on it as needed. I started a thread there today, ostensibly (and truly) looking for advice on the fifth place prize.
I wish I could get hundreds of folks voicing their support for the idea, maybe that would sway the asshole. Be that as it may, I received some words of support that were much appreciated and needed. I also spoke with Freshbooks about the raffle, and they gave me a one year license to use their software, and there might be more of a sponsorship coming - man, I would love it if somebody from Freshbooks would put together the framework I have envisioned so that I don't have to mess with that technical level.
I also spoke with Bill Crowley, the development director at MPN Foundation. He gave me some good ideas, and his organization will help to publicize the raffle. It's starting to sound official; this is good. I wish I was getting paid, or that I could count this as my job interview, or something. I still have no idea how I'm going to make things work when the private disability runs out; all I know for sure is that Sharon isn't going to make them work, she's still off in her own little world and refuses to actively deal with any of this.
From the way things look now, I will be homeless with absolutely no money in August of this year; my cancer treatments will be stopped - everything being pay to play - and I will die fairly quickly from the cytokine rebound. It's going to be an ugly, painful death as well. I had better start saving up pain medication now (by not taking it) so that I have some for when I can't afford it and things get real.
At least I will no longer be a millstone around anybody's neck, nor will I feel that strong sense of alienation as more and more "friends" leave me because my death is not meeting their standard. Since Kerrie pulled her shit with me, after I gave her and Dave the motorcycle, I realize that I'll never attempt to be friends with anybody again. Of all the friendships and relationships that people have used as an excuse to steal from me, to treat me like shit, to abuse me, that one hurts the most, and that one has set the direction of my life for its remainder.
I'm tired; the pain has left me wiped out yet another day. Such is life.
