Yuma

It’s only been days since Laura was here. There’s more room.  I noticed that.  I don’t t have to squeeze around her and she’s taking up a lot of the bed. But it’s a bit more slovenly. She made the bed each morning. A thing of hers. I’m not that way inclined so pile the sheets and blankets and am satisfied they’re layered.  Not at all crisp.  There’s none of the sweet flowery smells either.  Madigan was always so happy when she was here. Of course he wanted to hump her or lick her ears but he was spirited. Now he’s sort of morose.  Like me I guess.  I’m back at work and the sadness, fear and despair grind away like fingernails on a chalk board.  At the end of the day I’m exhausted.  Many against one trying to convince me the universe is unfair and the future is bleak.  When Laura’s here I feel less alone.  It’s comforting to be part of a park.  So many friends dying in the last few years. No time to grieve.  The chronic back pain and the encapsuled sadness.  I miss her.  I grieve for yesterday gearing up to today.  

Im praying.  I took Madigan outside and the fresh air, dawn, all were uplifting. I have to take action to feel fine. I have all these tools for happiness. Well used mind you but a whole set of tools.  Gratitude lists.  I had a muddled dream with a messy room of her and my clothings and a sense of secrecy  and shame.  I can devolve into chaos.  I like order.  I’m planning a motorcycle ride to a ghost town in the country.  It’s a bit of a daunting ride with the prospect of rattle snakes. I have to leave him behind for the few hours. Maybe Friday.  I fear death in a foreign country.  Can’t dwell on this or attract it. I’m finding the positivity of holidays and love are rapidly lost in the tales of despair.  I remember the term ‘soul sucker’ and remember how easy it was to be and find peace alone in the woods, at sea , in the mountains.  Yet the challenge is to know God in the multitude. 

My greatest enemy is myself.  Even now I could feel better washing my little floor or taking Madigan for an early desert walk.  I struggled up from the dream and came into this world.  I’m blessed to be in paradise.

Thank you for my purpose and faith. Thank you for my boots. Thank you for my motorcycle and leather coat. Thank you for the opportunity to serve.  Thank you for my education and teachers and all the learning. Thank you for the opportunity to share. Thank you for my apple office. Thank you for this table. Thank you for my fingers. Thank you for my eyes and the feelings and senses. Thank you for family and friends. Thank you for fresh dry air of the dessert . Thank you for this morning.  It brings back memories of Mexican mornings and mornings on the sailboat. 

Help me to do the errands and tasks and all the beuroccratic affairs I must face though I want to ignore.  Just as I returned to work and have begun the old well known routine I’m bombarded with all the government demands for money and the various organizations wanting their fees.  I believe I’m copacetic but the fear of not having enough to meet all these January demands is just old terror and trauma. There’s enough and in the past it’s always been found.  I’m saving and paying the rent and taxes and meeting my obligations . I just need to ‘write the cheques’ or take the time to fill out the forms to reduce the ‘threat’ that I feel with all these threats.  I will.  Today I will work. I will walk in the desert. I will make coffee. I will drink coffee. I will make the phone calls.  All shall be well.   

I have been stymied that I’m paying a few hundred dollars a month to businesses that required me to allow automatic withdrawal but now that their serviees are no longer needed they won’t stop withdrawing despite my long needing security cameras or insurance for the old place .So now I have to contact the bank and the wait for calls has been hours and the last time they told me they couldn’t cancel the withdrawal until I talked to them. I ‘ve talked to them and they’re asking me for numbers and forms and a myriad of paper work which I no longer have with me all the while they suck blood,. I don’t want to continue to pay such people and yet they were fine until I didn’t need their service and this is clearly an example of ‘clever’ business practice that gives business a bad name.  Aging I fear for my future when I could be more vulnerable.  But it’s like fighting the Borg.

The same with the days trying to get replacement hearing aids only to find out that some law says that apps for hearing aids can only be used on US registered phones.  My phone I bought here and am using a plan here however doesn’t count because it’s Apple and part of my apple care canada based coverage.  The audiologist was closed over the holidays and I think of going back and kick myself for not getting the hearing aids which were being sold in Mexico.  All because the girl in Vancouver phoned in sick the day of my apt for new hearing aids in the weeks before my departure.  A cascade of ‘bad luck’ or what is God trying to tell me.  Termites in the rafters.   I’ve remained calm if not serene.  But the death by a thousand bites becomes a fear as each day I muddle through the increasing Beurocratic demands and decreasing competency.

That said Best Buy was terrifie.  They immediately refunded the money and the external hard drive they sold me worked just fine for backing up my work computer.  I’m succeeding

I need to focus on the positives, The gratitude list are good for that. I’m so thankful for this paradise and my overall health.  I will get into a chiropracter soon too and go for massage. I have the exercises I am to do and will get to them. I have the shopping list for groceries I need . I will shower today. I will get all these things done and the others on the to do list will be face.  In the morning though I resist making contact. I’m safe in my isolation. I’m loath to encounter strangers and face confrontations and conflict since I want what I’m due but it seems to require a struggle like the voice I have to use to get my dog to come. He ignores the normal voice. All these beaurocrats are like that. They are overbearing until I push back .  In fact that’s not true. I have these terrific people always helping most of the time. It’s the irritating one that remains in my mind and I fear.

There was this overpowering administrator in the dream a left over from school , a bullying demanding sort encouraging the ordering of the room.  A drill sergeant sort.  I ‘m thankful for them today but their voice like my parents voices lingers in my mind no doubt as my voice lingers in my dogs mind. I call him and he doodles.

That raised the whole issue of ‘love ‘ and ‘fear’ .   The communists are feared . The CRA and FBI and all those alphabet folk are feared but the question is what they represent from one’s past. It’s always Jungian archetypes and God.  My interaction with the world is ultimately me and the other.  God and I .  There is no need for despair.  God loves me and this to will pass.

The tool box says ‘suit up and show up’,  ‘do the next right thing’.  I have a design for living. I don’t need to swim against the current.  I am in God’s hands. I’m a child of God. This is an adventure.  Thank you god for the adventure.  

Thank you for the love.  

Toilet

My toilet continues to be plugged.  Kelvin replaced the seized valve.  He pulled more toilet paper residue out of the pipers. He even found the wash valve and washed out the holding tank and pipes.  There an elbow close to the tank he could’ve reach and it appears to be the source of trouble .  He left after five or so hours and the toilet has been filled with two bottles of tissue digester.  I even added a liquid plumber and a blue digester.  This morning the water is clear but filled to the top. I’ve bailed it with a pan to add more chemicals. His snake and my snake haven’t worked.

My back hurts.  I prayed and meditated and did the morning back exercises.  I just let Madigan out to pee.  His half complete grooming still makes him look like a clown dog,

I have my invertion back machine in the garage.  It needs assembly.  I have a pile of ‘stuff’ to go to the storage locker.

I’m stymied. 

I feel blocked by the toilet and the back pain.  I enjoyed sitting cross legged. I enjoyed prayer and meditation.  

The back pain isn’t waking me like it did in the fall. It’s only with movement.  Hot tubs and swimming are fine.  I limped in sheer pain to the rest station from the car in November when the sciatica was at it’s worse.  Now I can walk for 20 minutes and my back is sore.  The next day I sometimes can’t move without pain.  Massage helps. I’ve not been back to the chiropractor.  My daily back exercises make me flexible but I don’t have relief.  The pain is constant with varying degrees Right now sitting I’m without pain but if I get up to get another cup off coffee I’ll have pain,.  It’s better than the fall and it doesn’t feel like something is unstable and ‘breakable’ like it did last year when I was walking in Scotland. I don’t feel so fragile just sore and fearful of doing damage by overstraining. I suffer the next day or two if I push myself.  

I don’t feel manly,  I haven’t felt manly since I had ED with pain. Then when I hurt myself so severely just mounting and having sex,  I carry resentments and self pity and weary of the constant lifetime complaining of feminists who haven’t bailed hay, done construction or hurt their backs. All the men I know at my age have major physical disabilities from work or sports. Being on constant pain I ‘m finding it hard to listen to the news and all the View girls and Huffington Post girls complaining their life is tough, like a trust fund PM.  

As a psychiatrist I believe pain is anger turned inward, All pain is psychosomatic.  I’m suffering.  I know the X-ray shows a fracture and traumatic arthritis.  It s more important that I continue to have flashbacks of resentment. Intrussive thoughts of the government thugs and low brows backing the criminal liars.  I feel like I’m going to die without seeing any justice.  I used to think of Jesus on the cross disheartened by the government and state laughing and mocking him as the falsely accuse and shame him and kill hill

I’ve listened to 4 years of Trump being falsely accused with the fake Russian Dossiers.  Meanwhile Trudeau is a liar and his hair brain policy are hurting everyone financially and ethically except his little cult following.

I bought another book on forgiveness.  Resentment is taking poison and hoping the other guy will die. I’m thought blocking and praying all day long,  The triggers of ‘false accusations’ are there all the time. I look at a colleagues mansion and know he was a lying shit. I still have difficulty forgiving my ex wife for the lies or her and her friends.  

I once had back bone.  I had courage .  The government licensing bodies have for decades being overstepping their authorities, invasive and demeaning.  Their agenda was to destroy doctors and other professional.  Classic communism.

I felt safer in Arizona than I do here, Her there are so few civil liberties left. Trudeau freezing bank accounts on a lie and Jordan Peterson defending his license from false accusation, It just brings back the government backing the meth addict threatening to kill me and my dog. I cry sometimes as I don’t feel safe and my back hurts.  

I wear a dress and am like Klinger but also feel safer.  Being a man in Canada is so terrifying and being alone and the girls have sided with Trudeau.  It’s the history of Lenin and Hitler.  

I liked reading Kelly Anne Conway and hearing of all the network of mothers fighting the friends of Epstein and Hillary.  Another year has gone by without Epstein or Ghislane ‘s list.  Elon Musks release of the Twitter correspondence of FBI makes the FBI just a less bloody Stazi, same ideation as Trudeau, above the law, elites only interested in power and corruption, 

I’m just weary and afraid and alone,

I was thankful sharing with my group and seeing my old friend who suffered back pain for years till he finally had back surgery when he couldn’t walk and now is walking .

I miss my friend John He was such a great manner and survived his accident and decades in a wheel chair in constant pain until he was falsely accused and the government lawyers and college attacked him backing the lies and utter cowshit that he was a ‘risk’ .  A man in a wheel chair and a girl getting paid to lie and false ly acuse .  The last days of his life attackers by scum of lawyers.  He’s in heaven and his accusers are rotting in hell watching their organs and intestines torn out day after day for their lies, their faces eaten away by acid over and over again as many days as they persecuted my friend.

Now I’m feeling vulnerable, No one cared when I was raped.  No one cared when I was held hostage, No one cared the many tines my life was threatened on the time the female patient sucker punched me in the emergency. The women cheered her, Violent terrorist women are celebrated by women   I see no justice,  Someone says my parents, grant parents or great grand parents were persecuted so I can persecute. No one rememembers Culloden or Irish and Sligo.  I stood at Sligo and cried. 

Now it’s all nonsense, cancel culture, and woke and all the climate change lies and racism attacks.  Whose going to pay for the Neanderthal all you holier than thous’s

I’m among friends like men are who just laugh and say ‘get off the cross , we can use the wood,’. The offended just get more offended and gaslight and terrorize.  

I have so much to be grateful for and write gratitude lists and am thankful but it’s like there’s still this abscess .  The holding tank full of shit. The chronic back pain. The depression and ptsd.  Identity disorder and gender issues.  Anxiety. 

Last night I watched Hawaii 5-0.  I finished. Kelly Anne Conway’s Memoir.  I thought of high school and the business and social life of that an college,  

I’m fairly isolated.  Aging does that I supposed.  There was a time when I had dinner parties monthly.  Another time when I lived with others.  Decades of my life in community.  Now I’m mostly alone.

Laura just texted me to say that they’d like to come over so the dogs could meet and John could look at toilet.  John’s a marine diesel engineer in charge of maintenance on a fleet of tug boats.  Molly is John and Caroline, Laura’s sister’s, dog.  I’m uplifted by the thought of company.  

At least that’d motivated the next step, getting dressed. I’m suddenly ashamed of the clutter and chaos but I don’t want the cleaning ladies here till the toilet is solved. I wondered last night if they put anything in the toilet not knowing RV or marine toilets.  The toilet on my sailing vessel was invariably plugged by a child’s toy or tampon and I took that toilet a part a dozen times because visitors had put things other than toilet paper in my toilet.  I never gave them the talk , the don’t put anything but toilet paper in toilet. I hád a compost toilet up north.  In my country home I installed a new septic systems.  Living on boats I knew this but here I don’t have signs up and I didn’t give the talk. 

It’s sufficient explanation that the valve was seized and water cojuldn’t be contained so silt built up.  The valves seemed off in the fall and I was a way for a month. I don’t have to look for culprits or conspiracies. There’s obviously a design flaw. If I’m faced with any catastrophe it inevitably has happened to others.  

I can hope. But at least now I have reason to get dressed.

New valve

Kelvin of Travco doing the dirty



I was happy to get new mocassins.

Dispatches

I am still here. The sun is shining this morning so there’s hope. Yesterday was cold and gloomy.  Canada’s government in Ottawa is still morbidly stupid, arrogant and foolish. Swab and the WEF Communist New World Order progresses. I read the news and fear for possessions.  The little money I’ve worked so hard to save sits in the bank and I imagined it would help me when the government theft of pensions left me destitute in older age. Silly.  Today is sunny.  Carpe Diem. Shanananananaa live for today. Don’t worry about tomorrow……I used to smoke dope and live in a womb. ….I was a Boy Scout and learned the motto ‘be prepared’.  I know the rich get richer and the crap game is rigged for the bullies and takers. I even know that my go to place is ‘self pity’.  Right now I continue to be bullied by Frazerway RV.  It helps me have empathy with all my patients similarly bullied these days by government and busiesses.  I suspect Trudeau’s incompetence and greed is tied to his drug addiction. I help people who have drug addiction and I was addicted to tobacco and abused alcohol. It’s nearly 25 years I’ve not had a smoke or drunk alcohol.  25 years without altering consciousness with chemicals.  I’ve lived this life on life’s terms.

Today the sun is shining. What a little thing that is but it uplifts my spirit. I love the light. My eyes no longer see clearly in the dark. My vision requires glasses. My hearing is less and I’m using hearing aids more.  

I spoke to Lydia about my back.  Getting up in the morning was like have knives stabbed in my lumbar spine. She looked at the X-ray.  “Other than the fracture and a little narrowing it’s a very good spine. You have a very good looking spine.”  I thought of Schwarzenegger in the moving where the alien hunters tear the spine out of their human victims.  “You need to do more stretching.  Stretch in bed before getting up. Like a cat.”  I ‘d actually not heard this and really appreciated it. I had been getting out of bed and doing stretches but now am stretching before I stand. I tried it this morning and it worked.  That the intuitive wisdom of a good doctor.  I’d heard the same from my colleague from U of Manitoba. I was reading the book on death and denial and the story of the girl with back pain which turned out to be metastatic concern got under my skin. I’m becoming hysterical.  “I’m going to the chiropractor.”  ‘That’s good,” she said, Here’’s this site called ‘spine-health.com’ I find it very helpful’.  I checked it out and it really was helpful. I’ve actually ordered a book of exercise.  

I did Tai Chi for several years and my back pain was completely relieved and the relief lasted several years later. I’ve grown fat with covid and lazy too, just surviving with the work and isolation.

I was considering a sex change too. At least getting hormones and breast implants. Too old for surgical genital operations and feeling self castration is probably just a reaction to the Canadian government’s propaganda.  I don’t think I’m aging that gracefully. I’m whining.  Lydia told me that her husband had the expression ‘man up’ when it came to doing the things he had to do. I’ve been swimming. Last year I was stretching and doing sit ups daily.  It’s time to stop moaning and looking for magic bullets. I probably was hoping for Lydia to say, you’re too sick to do anything but lie on the couch and watch Netflix till you die shortly. Maybe push the fringerator closer so you won’t have to get up to get your snacks.

Madigan my cockapoo physiotherapist has been walking me four times a day.  

I imagine my desire to be female is a reaction of resentment to the heavy lifting I did au drab.  All that life saving work and all that manly years of provider and protector and now our PM rewards criminals by taking the guns of non criminals and gives our pensions to his cronies and welfare recipients transferring to rewards of long hard work to the non workers.  Laura and I know people who never work always complain work the system live in apartments and on social media and do volunteer work for political parties that say ‘give to the poor, ie themselves’ and I’m seeing inflation and savings being attacked. Trudeau actually froze bank accounts of his political enemies and stole their money.  Nothing is safe in Canada under this tyrant.  

I read a promise, “fear of economic insecurity will leave us’.  Yet here I am again not turning it over to God, not surrendering. Fearing when I should have faith.  

My back hurts. I can’t be a soldier. I can’t stand through a surgery. I hear daily so many people hurting so much worse than me and I don’t have any answer because the theft and betrayal is by a government I have never supported.  The socialism communism is not my idea of the meritocracy I believe in.  

Meanwhile I resist retirement partly because I’m enjoying my life though you’d never know it with my whining and complaining but there’s the fear that when I can’t work the government will make me homeless.  I imagine that a woman can survive better than a man because I can’t fight any more and men are attracted more than old ladies. Old ladies seem to be left alone. I feel no lone will care for me and I feel my dog still needs me.  I cant’ save because any money I put in the bank could be taken by Trudeau or Krause. I have hidden gold but know I don’t trade and barter. I served my life saving lives and even know I’m being beat up and bullied by Frazerway RV who clearly have sharp business practices and take advantages of people. I imagine if I was a Hell’s Angel or someone like them I’d not be bullied now. But I’ve been a doctor and given equal care who have come my way whereas I’d refuse to treat Frazerway RV if I was like them spiritually, narcissists and soul suckers.  I imagine that I want to be a woman because my ex partner so often lay dead for ever when I licked their clitoris pleasuring them and they demanded worship and never said thank you’ll

I don’t find much graciousness in the world.  That’s communism.  The godless lack manners and couth. I’ve been too long among the uncivilized and wish I could be where work and contribution gained respect and unethical little girl abuser bastards whose brains are mush didn’t get to rule. I’d like to see the rot in Denmark removed. I ‘d like to see the old treated better .  

I’m actually rather blessed.  I’ve got sufficient resources . Today is sunny.  Practicing the Presence of God.  This is the day of my life.  Nothing is certain about tomorrow or the next minute. Gratitude. An attitude of gratitude is necessary.  Graciousness begins here. I’m thankful to God for the sun, for the air, for the Cadillac problems for the pain that says I’m alive, for the possibilities, tor the future for the countless blessings. Thank you Lord for Madigan. Thank you for Laura. Thank you for my colleagues. Thank you for my neighbors. Thank you for my friends. Thank you for all the blessings. Thank you for clothes and tech. Thank you for the flowers of spring. Thank you for the little dogs. Thank you for the novels and stories and internet and Netflix.Thank you for work. Thank you for all the positives I take for granted. Thank you for my nephews and great nephews and the god kids. Thank you for piercings and tattoos.  

Thank you Lord Jesus. Guide me and help me find my purpose and meaning again. Show me what it is you want of me at this age.

Spreading the ashes of Gilbert George and Tiffany 

Walking with Laura and Madigan