Our wonderful, witty friend in Canada is in dire straits. I'll let her tell you in her own words which are so much better than mine could ever be...
http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=106549574&blogID=228793459&Mytoken=8DE53AE4-4C51-4172-AF803149E0EAF1E956257099 Why Am I Not Dead?
Category: Life
I have been terribly ill with peunmonia this week....I'm writing fun stories about it and it's been a funny experience for me....I'm keeping the outlook good, I promise...
I also learned something surprising too….I joke about how I live, in poverty….and where I live, on the hooker stroll, across from the homeless shelter, 3 doors down from the methadone clinic….I let the junkies play with my dog and Big Willy an aboriginal homeless man with the biggest smile I've ever seen always rushes to help me carry my groceries home and once he got tangled up in a fire hose inside my building….He also smiled when he stole my son's bike last summer…that's just who he is and what he knows….I'm not proud that I live here…I sometimes walk fast with my eyes down so I don't have to engage with people…I sigh and roll my eyes a lot….I'm not any kind of saint or particularly generous open spirit.
But the care I got in the hospital and from the EMTs on my first visit could have killed me…from who and how the 911 call was responded to…I was wondering why I had almost a dozen people in my little room. They were there in case of "trouble"….They didn't give me privacy or dignity or O2 to go down the flights of stairs….she berated me the whole time…a friend just pointed it out…."They didn't think you were a valuable person" she said, "They thought you are a prostitute/junkie, you weren't sick….you were probably high". They gave my son a bunch of valium without telling him or me what they were or how to administer them to me and sent us home….my blood Oxygen was super-low….the dr. wouldn't actually come and see me…he kept telling them to give me 9 shots of Ventolin every 30 min. and send her home…..for 9 hours….Ventolin can kill you all by itself. I started refusing…then I started pretending to take it….if I had taken it…then gone home and followed up with the Valium (which I did) I probably would have died.
Can you believe that in the Western World…in 2007….that we do this to people still?
On the second 911 call 2 days later….the ambulance came….and one of the drivers saw my book DUMBASS on the table….He said, "I know you….you're Jules Carlysle" I heard you on the radio the other day you were hilarious….I tried to get your book but Chapters is sold out….I gave him the copy off the table….I was the same person I was 48hrs earlier….probably looking and smelling considerably worse …my hair is totally doing a new scarier thing now….
I was suddenly important enough to get oxygen and ice chips….I got a diagnosis and prescriptions. I got a plan of action for the future….
I didn't know that 2 days earlier I was supposed to say something to them so they'd know I should be ..I don't know….not killed...I just assumed that they were asking me all of the important questions.
I guess some of the unspoken questions are actually – "Are you important to anyone?" "Will anybody care if you are gone?" and "What have you done for me lately?"
If I'd known that I needed to be important to warrant actual care, then I would have made certain they knew that I mattered….
I'd like to say I wouldn't do that.
I'd like to say that I would stand on principle and expect emergency care regardless of my social standing….remember I'm writing from Canada here….
I'd like to say that I would make them change their minds or do things differently…..because it's soooooo important to everyone.
From the Strange Ways to Kick Me When I'm Down File
Category: Life
So, I'm sick…
Not "Oh I do declare, I may succumb to a frightful case of the vapors" – kind of sick…
I mean blood in the lungs…call 911 again…aspirating on blood and vomit at the bottom of the stairs – kind of sick.
But this too shall pass….
What has my attention at the moment, is this….
When the EMS responded to the first 911 call, a bunch of firefighters showed up in addition to the ambulances and police…remember it was a colossal over reaction, due to their assumption that given where I live and how I live that I was probably a drug-addicted prostitute ready to make trouble.
Bored I suppose, since we didn't need all 475 EMS respondents to attend to me…the firemen took a walk around my building and the following week brought a surprise inspection by the Fire Marshall.
I live here illegally. It's not an apartment. It's just a room in a commercial building. I'm not here because I want to be. I'm here because we have no other place to be.
I have been assessed several fire code violations and am required to move or have them corrected by February 28.
Not only can I not move my residence by then…I simply have no money to do so…but I can barely move my body. My son has to wheel me the equivalent of ½ a city block to the bathrooms…
Although the chair my son uses to wheel me around is broken in two pieces, the seat comes off the legs entirely…so it has yielded some hysterical material for my writings about this illness….this will wind up being the funniest book I've ever written…if I don't die in the process.
The only hope I have is to do a public appeal to sell off the returned copies of Dumbass and make some money.
But I can't wrap my head around this at the moment…I don't want to be that person…that victim.
I believe in the biggest sense of the idea, that we create our lives….I attract what has come to me. If it's lessons to learn or mistakes to relive…I am ultimately responsible. I say often that if I want different results that I must make different choices….so I refuse most help, opting to find my way through this mess on my own.
My son, however….says that for me….asking for help IS making a different decision so I must learn to do that to move past this trouble…
I know…I should totally send that kid to military school….bastard!
She has a website with a link to buy her book.
http://www.julescarlysle.com/index.htmlPLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE buy as many copies as you can afford, you will not be disappointed and your money will go to a wonderful person. While you are there, take the time to read her stuff, it's wonderful. She's an important asset in our progressive cause. Let's help her.