Wednesday Morning Update: 11/13/24

There is a lot to consider this morning. I chose Willie Nelson’s ‘Stardust’ album to serenade me this morning, and the words of “September Song” seem all too fitting, “Oh, it’s a long long while/From May to December/But the days grow short/When you reach September/When the autumn weather/Turns leaves to flame/One hasn’t got time/For the waiting game/Oh, the days dwindle down/To a precious few
September, November/And these few precious days/I’ll spend with you.”

I’m not sure where to start. Kat had yesterday off and spent it resting up at Brandon’s, away from the cats. I miss having her here, but again, she’s doing what’s best for her. We don’t talk about how close we came to losing her. She has to put herself first. That’s not going to change in the foreseeable future. Her clients have been understanding and supportive. She’s off again today, the only “appointment” being taking G to violin lessons this afternoon. I’ll make potato soup for dinner, which I hope at least feels good going down. The time with her is precious.

G came home from school yesterday determined to be impressive, and he was. Without a pattern, he made an absolutely lovely scarf for a friend, using a soft fabric with a Southwestern design. He measured carefully, sewed magnificently, and finished it off beautifully. I never thought of G as a fashion designer until recently, but if he wants I’m sure he could pull it off with fantastic results.

On the other hand, Tipper came in from school, ate a bowl of cereal, and then retreated to her room, leaving only to use the bathroom. Something is going wrong, but she’s not talking. That is, she’s not talking to me. I have a feeling she’s talking to someone, I’m just not sure that person is giving her the best advice. I have no idea what the appropriate response should be. Each morning, as she leaves early for the bus stop, I tell her that we love her. I wonder on mornings like this if those words fall on deaf ears.

The tightness in my chest won’t go away. Don’t worry, it’s just anxiety. There’s no immediate danger. The pill I take for anxiety is huge, so I doubt that I should ask for anything stronger; it might leave me comatose. There’s little comfort, though. My bones ache terribly. The chemo and changes in the weather work together to make sure the pain never goes away. The fog in my head seems particularly strong this morning.

I have to contact the insurance company today. When I sent them a message last Wednesday, I was told that a case manager would call me within 48 hours. That call never came. I gave them some grace since it was a “holiday” weekend for some. Still, no call. I need to be in an Assisted Living facility so that Kat can address structural issues in the house. I also think that having a nurse handy 24/7 isn’t a bad thing. I’m afraid to take a shower because there’s no one here to even call for help if I fall. I find it interesting that United Healthcare, which is the insurance to which I’m assigned, is trying to buy Amedisys, a large home health company. The Justice Department and four states’ Attorneys General filed an antitrust lawsuit against the insurance giant yesterday in an attempt to stop the deal. How the fuck am I supposed to trust a company knowing full well that they’re far more interested in controlling healthcare and taking the profit than they are concerned over my or anyone else’s legitimate health needs?

I just went to the kitchen to refill my coffee mug, and friends, I don’t feel well. Sitting back down helps, but I’m struggling to stay conscious. Alerts from the bank are constantly reminding me how broke I am. I look at G’s birthday on the 26th and Thanksgiving the day after and wonder how in the world I’m supposed to pull off a major birthday celebration one day and the whole turkey, dressing, and pie thing the next. I’m not asking Kat for help. All we need from her is for her to stay alive. That’s it. I have to do everything else myself. I don’t mind doing it, either, I just don’t know at this juncture how I’m going to do it. I don’t know how I’m going to fix lunch, either. I’m trying to get it together, but my body is fighting back pretty damn hard.

Looking at the news this morning is not helping. A fucking Faux News anchor is the felon’s choice for Defense Secretary. That’s right, let’s put a complete novice in charge of the world’s most powerful military. Please, someone fucking explain to me how that makes a lick of sense. The Pentagon’s most senior officials are right to be concerned. For that matter, every country in the world should be concerned.

Then, the felon went and nominated South Dakota Gov. Kristi Noem as Secretary of Homeland Security. This is the same bitch that put down her dog for no good reason. South Dakota’s indigenous tribes won’t let her even set foot on any of their lands. Noem’s daughter got preferential treatment while applying for her Real Estate license, an application that was initially turned down. There is so much corruption following this bitch that it’s going to take an extra moving van just to transport all her conspiracies to D.C.

The nomination that simultaneously scares me and makes my blood boil is Mike Huckabee as Ambassador to Isreal. Why? The former Arkansas governor has long called himself a Zionist, but he’s really a pre-millennialist Southern Baptist convinced that a war with Isreal at the forefront will bring about Armageddon and the mythical Rapture of believers. Ambassadors normally don’t have all that much influence. In fact, it’s generally considered a cushy do-nothing job. Huckabee won’t be content to just sit in some office, though. He’ll be in Netanyahu’s ear, putting money in Israel’s pocket, and pushing for greater war. This idiot cannot be trusted.

Finally, there’s the appointment of fucking Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy to head a new “advisory” Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE). While this new agency is not an actual government agency with any authority, their whole purpose is to dismantle everything these two idiots consider “Bureaucracy.” Say goodbye to safety regulations, environmental controls, OSHA, and all the things that the government does to protect us from the ruthless and careless greed of corporations. How will this work? Easy. DOGE advises Congress to make changes. The felon’s stooges, Mike Johnson as speaker, and Rick Scott as the Senate’s GOP leader, then turn that advice into legislation that the Republican-controlled Congress passes without question, and the felon then signs it into law. Just that quickly, all our protections are gone.

What can be done to stop this madness? On one hand, Democratic Governors are banding together to stop the felon’s changes from taking effect. Don’t dismiss this effort. Since most of the changes the felon wants to make are implemented at the state level, Governors have the power to “just say no.” The ACLU and other organizations are gearing up to file lawsuits against offending laws as well.

However, Trans people are experiencing a mental health crisis, overwhelming call centers, as they fear that the felon will make good on his threat to roll back protections for the Trans community. We don’t know the extent to which this unhinged administration might attack the broader LGBTQIA+ community as well. No one feels safe.

Justice will take a hit as Jack Smith plans to step down from the Special Counsel’s office before the inauguration. The felon complained all through the second half of his first administration that he didn’t think the Special Counsel’s office was legitimate. Don’t be surprised when he attempts to completely eliminate the office, making it damn near impossible to investigate any government official over any wrongdoing.

To everyone who has said that our fears about the felon’s second administration were premature and unfounded, fuck you. The felon isn’t even trying to hide what he’s planning. He’s proud of his efforts to destroy the country. This is pure Fascism 2025. 52% of you have learned absolutely nothing over the past 90 years. Don’t expect me to cry for you when you are affected by this nonsense just as much as the rest of us.

Meanwhile, John Krasinski was named People magazine’s 2024 Sexiest Man Alive, Thailand’s baby pygmy hippo Moo Deng has an official song released in 4 languages, and the escaped monkeys apparently like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Oh, don’t forget that Robotaxis are now open to anyone who wants a driverless ride in Los Angeles. I can’t think of a more terrifying city to have cars zipping around without a driver. Also, you’re spending too much time on the toilet.

I’ve listened to both sides of four albums while typing this update. Okay, I did stop a few times to sing along. The dogs don’t seem to mind. Barry Manilow is pushing us toward the end. I feel worse now than I did when I started. I need to force some food down my throat and take my meds.

If my coffee cup is empty, you’ll know I died.