Insurance, aka legal rip off

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I understand the importance of having insurance. Whether it’s home, auto, health, renters or life.

Having insurance gives you the assurance and peace of mind that things will be okay after and accident or incident. Or so I’d like to believe.

In 2019 I suffered a series of unfortunate auto accidents, of which non were my fault.

First, I was at complete stop, in traffic on the freeway, when the vehicle in front of me stalled and as it’s owner frantically tried to crank the ignition, the vehicle started rolling back. As I observed the vehicle rolling, I sank my hand on my horn to alert the driver. All of those efforts were to no avail, because the vehicle still kept rolling back, stopping only when he slammed into the front my car. To fast track the story, we both moved out vehicles to the shoulder of the freeway, called the police and waited and waited and waited some more for them to show up. When the cop finally showed up, the other driver told the police that I was speeding and slammed into the back of his SUV.

After some back and forth and getting really pissed off and yelling at the police about what exactly happened, I was about to get out of my car to go rip the other driver another asshole, when the police went back to the other driver, who finally admitted that his vehicle did indeed stall, but he stuck to the lie that I ran into his vehicle. The end result was the police issuing me a citation for following to closely. I subsequently went to court and had this ticket thrown out. However, getting my car fixed was challenging because the other drivers insurance company, of course believed their clients lie that he was not at fault for my vehicles damage.

I decided to not call my insurance company because the damage was minor and I knew I’d have to pay a deductible which would cost more than the actual repair needing to be done on the bumper or for that matter cost of replacing it.

Two weeks later, same freeway, a few meters from the first accident spot, stopped in traffic AGAIN, another driver, in a speeding car, slams into the back of my car, pushing me into the car in the front of me.

Again, all three vehicles pulled onto the shoulder. The driver, a young lady, quickly got out of her car, approached my car and impolitely ask, “you want my insurance information?” I said to her “yes, you can bring your documents while I call the police.” Her response was “why you wanna do that for?” and she quickly walked away, go into her car and sped off! This now turned into a high speed chase on the freeway with both me and the driver that I was pushed into, chasing this crazy girl down the freeway to at least get her license plate number for the police. As we played the dangerous game of cat and mouse, bobbing and weaving in and out of slow rush hour traffic, the 911 operator told both me and the other driver to discontinue the chase and pull over safely, she was about to have an officer dispatched to us.

The police office arrived not too long after, took statements from me and the other driver, checked our license and insurance and took all necessary information for the police report, and we were all off to our regularly scheduled programs.

My car is now damaged in both front and back so I have no other choice but to file and uninsured motorist claim in order to fix my car. I contacted my insurance company, provided all necessary details and had a check in my hand in less than a week. I had my car was repaired.

Fast forward to one year later, same month, different date, same spot, opposite side of the freeway, minding my own business driving to work at five eighteen in the morning (5:18am.) It’s Dark, there’s no traffic, and I’m in no rush. I start work at eight o’clock, and had about thirty five minutes more of driving to do to get there. My cruise control is set at 70 as per usual, my Sirius XM Satellite Radio Station set on Kirk Franklin’s Praise, and I am singing my gospel songs, taking my own time, minding my own business…. off to work I go.

As I checked my mirrors as I often do while driving, I noticed a vehicle in the distance behind me approaching my car at a rapid speed. I didn’t let it disturb me because I was driving in one of the middle lanes on a four lane freeway, with no other vehicle on either side of me and no other vehicle close in front of me, so there was several choices of passing lanes.

With the same quick glance I focused forward continuing my merry way on. Then out of no where the cabin of my vehicle started filling with a light that got brighter and brighter as the vehicle behind me approached faster and faster and no sooner than I glanced up to my rearview mirror – BOOM!!!! I was hit from behind. The impact pushed my car forward as if I were in a bumper car. My windshield wipers automatically came on, my horn was blaring, my dashboard lit up with traction, check engine, trunk and door open lights. I let out a scream, with my heart racing fast and hard while I try to keep my car in control. Then BOOM!!!! I was hit yet again. This time I started calling on the name of JESUS! I quickly checked my right side mirror to make sure that it was safe for me to pull off of the freeway and before I could even start switching lanes to the shoulder, BOOM again!!!! Three times this person rammed my car.

I’m now screaming to the top of my lungs and shaking like an earthquake as I scuttle my now waddling car to the shoulder. As I pull over, I’m expecting this driver to pull over also. Nope. He keeps on going about his merry business. Adrenaline kicks in and I start immediately start having flash backs about the last two accidents and how was I going to explain this to my insurance company or for that matter, repair my or get another vehicle. So I immediately dragged my gear into drive, pedal to metal and the chase is on, yet again!

As I raced to catch up with the now “on the run” driver, I saw him pulling over to the shoulder one exit up from the accident where there was more light.

Thanking God, I pulled up in front of him and immediately got out of my car with cell phone in hand, ran to his truck and started snapping pictures like crazy. When I had my fill of photography, I got back into my car and dialed 911 to report the accident.

My Wrecked Car “Maxi”

While on the call, the other driver came to my window presenting me with his documents requesting that I took pictures of them as well.

When I ended the call with the 911 operator I asked the gentleman if he was okay, and what happened to cause him to hit me not once, not twice but three times. He simply replied “I’m not sure, but I may have fallen asleep.”

To make this here really long story shorter, the other driver had “good” insurance, and I got paid for my car, therapy and pain.

But the story does not end here. What has now ensued, two years after I made a claim for the hit and run accident, when the young lady slammed into the rear of my car and drove away. My current insurance company, STATE FARM send me letters in the mail last week to inform me that as of next month, they will not be renewing my policy them due to “excessive claims”.

Huh? What do you mean by “excessive claims” for coverage that is written into my policy and I’m paying for? Better yet, I’m paying for full comprehensive, which includes collision, towing, uninsured and underinsured coverage among other things.

Yes folks, State Farm is not renewing my coverage because I had two tows and an uninsured motorist claim. All of which my policy covers.

I contacted my insurance agent who contacted State Farm’s underwriting to enquire as to why I’m being dropped because I used the conveniences that I’m paying for. To their and my great surprise, the underwriter informed the agent that if a policy is less than three years old and you make ANY claims, it does not matter what the claim is for, that State Farm has a clause written into the insurance law or contract with the state, that they WILL DROP YOU FROM BEING INSURED WITH THEM.

My question is, why is the government allowing insurance companies to legally rip-off the public? Do you mean to tell me, I just need to be giving you my hard earned money every month, because it’s illegal to operate a vehicle in the state of Georgia without having at least liability coverage, and in the unfortunate event of an accident, if my policy is not three years or older I can’t file a claim to repair or replace my vehicle? So then why am I paying for insurance? Why doesn’t the insurance companies tell customers this in advance? To make matters even worst, the insurance companies have what they call a “clue box” which is accessible to all other insurance companies, and they put information about your claims and driving record in said clue box for other insurance companies to access, which then makes the other insurance companies not want to provide you with insurance coverage or jack their rates up really high to make your shit shiver.

In these tough times when the cost of living is high, prices are going up everywhere and for everything, and salaries are NOT increasing with the times, the government needs to step-in more than ever and regulate these BIG insurance companies from “legally” ripping people off!

Trini ol’ wives tales

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Almost everywhere in the world people believe if you break a mirror you’d have seven years of bad luck. But I honestly don’t think there is anything more compelling than trini ol’ wives tales!

In Trinidad the older folks seemed to believe the strangest, most weird things and sayings, or ol’ wives tales as we know it.

As a child growing up, adults would tell us of stories that their parents and grand parents told them about Papa Bois, La Diablesse, Douen, and Soucouyant. As a matter of fact, we had even had text books in elementary school with stories on these fabled/mythical beings.

But anyways, the weirdest ol’ wives tales would really make you question the foolishness of it all!

For example, don’t whistle in the house. What do you mean by don’t whistle in the house Ma? Response: Snakes will come in the house! What? Yes folks, I kid you not. The old folks back home still do believe that if you whistle while you’re in the house, snakes that are lurking in their imagination, mind, in the yard or somewhere in the neighborhood, will hear you calling them via said whistle, and come into the house. Huh? Is this a pipe piper situation here? Mind you we’ve all whistled in the house a billion times, individually and collectively and have never seen or found a snake in the yard, much less in the house.

Another tale was to not sweep the house after 6pm. What? Yeah – don’t sweep after six in the evening, because you would hypothetically sweep away any money that’s in the atmosphere coming to you in the near future. Huh?

Also, don’t gave a hot pepper or bottle of pepper sauce to your neighbor over the fence. You have to put it on a table or counter top and let the person pick it up for themselves. Why? If you hand it off to the person, you and that person would become bitter enemies. Huh?

Don’t pay a debt or gave money to a stranger after 8pm and before 6am. Wait, what? By paying a debt or giving money to a stranger after 8pm or before 6am, you are giving away your riches. This has something to do with not giving out money while it’s still dark. Huh?

Whenever you attend a funeral, especially if you went to the cemetery, you need to wash your hands and the soles of your shoes in the yard, as well as to throw three handfuls of water with your right hand over your left shoulder and do not enter the house with the shoes on your feet. Wait, run that by me again? Huh? This “ritual” had to be done to prevent death from following you into the house.

If you come in the house after 10pm, you have enter the door backwards. What? Come again….. yeah, backwards, so that spirits don’t follow you in. Huh?

If you and a person would simultaneously say the exact words at the same time, you had to try to quickly get it out first, to tap or pinch the person and “say you die first.” Huh?

Needless to say, I’ve never found any of these tales to necessarily be true or false. But it is definitely true, that children learn what they live. I don’t necessarily believe in these things, but I definitely try my hardest to not pay bills/debts after 8pm or before 6am.

Caring for Daddy

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It’s been a while since I’ve posted a blog due to my now hectic schedules. Nevertheless, I’m here and will try to be present more often than not.

For the past few years, my life has been going through lots of changes. Some that are for the better and some that I just straight-up hate. The one that I hate most is that I now have a parent who is unable to care for himself. He’s here, yet not here.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I DO NOT have an issue with taking care of my father. Because, that’s who he is. MY FATHER. What I hate, is the fact that he’s not living the life that he wanted to live, which was to grow old being healthy and independent.

My dad, as I know him, was always a strong individual. A powerhouse. Dominant. Unafraid. Smart. Unapologetic. Wise….just all that! About three years ago, I received a call from a new job that he started, stating that he was taken to the hospital because he seemed dazed, confused and non communicative. As I rushed to the hospital to see him, he was already triaged, hooked up to all the machines, awake and aware of where he was. After doing all the necessary scans and tests, it was determined by the doctors that daddy suffered an acute stroke. He remained hospitalized for a week or so and was then transferred to a care facility for the necessary rehab treatments for speech and mobility therapy. It was a difficult few months for him, because he was strong minded even through therapy and wanted out! Daddy just wanted to go home, so he spent every minute of the time he was in the facility trying to make his way to every door he could find to escape to his house. Anyways, the day finally came when he was discharged and he was extremely excited and ready to go home.

Once home, it was quite obvious that daddy was different. He didn’t talk at all and whenever he did speak, his tone was low and the words were few. His legs were unstable. He slept all day and roamed the house all night.

Shortly after he returned home, he had another appointment with neurology and it was determined that he had several more stroke activities to his brain and that he now had dementia. Stage 4.

Through it all, daddy has been a trooper. He has good days and bad days. I would say he has more good days than bad days. I call the bad days “lights on, nobody home” days. Those are the days when dementia takes over and he acts like a rebellious child who refuses to listen or respond to anything or anyone.

Daddy is at home, where he wants to be. He is in my and my sisters care. We all have different responsibilities as it pertains to his care and wellbeing.

As the eldest child, I am charged with handling his financial obligations and decision making. I’m also responsible for giving daddy his showers and ensuring that his hygiene is on point! I’m actually just getting the hang of giving him showers while he sits on the shower bench, rather than making him stand. I also take care of shaving his face at least once per week, my husbands does the hair cuts when necessary. Daddy walks on his own, but slow and tends to loose coordination and drift at times, resulting in a few falls. So, for safety reasons, he was given a walker – which I call his Rolls Royce. (it’s really sturdy and fancy). He has an adjustable bed, of which he is well verse in it’s operations and settings for his comfort. He has a television in his room so that he can watch his favorite evening show – the news – and or whatever else he desires to watch.

As care givers, my sisters and I don’t always see eye to eye. In my opinion, they are not as attentive as they should be, ALWAYS! But, none of us are perfect, we are doing what we have to do given the circumstance to ensure that he is clean, fed and comfortable, daily.

I thank God everyday that he is still here. He hears and understands me. He answers my questions in few words. And occasionally he’d even ask question if he remembers something or someone. There are moments when he is defiant and will not cooperate with my sisters, but he will comply when I speak to him. I just hate and get frustrated on the days when that evil dementia steps forward and cuts off his communication. “Lights off days!” Mind you, he’s still sharp as a tack! He can still read, he knows his name, he knows our names, he know his birth date, his address, where he was born, his parents names, he still knows and remembers people when their names are mentioned. He even playfully counts his every step on some days when he is walking from the shower to his bedroom. “1, 2, 3…..look at me!” (I always get a good laugh when he does this.)

I miss his voice. I miss his laughter. I miss his straight-forwardness. I miss taking about the news and politics with him. I miss his sarcasms. I miss the powerhouse that he was. I miss his opinions. I miss those moments when he frustrated me, in a good way – well, even the bad ways too – (never thought I’d miss him frustrating me).

Now, my joy is to see him smile. And NOTHING is more satisfying and to LIVE FOR, than when I actually get him to laugh about something…..ANYTHING!

Stuck in the latrine

I had to be no older than three or four years old.
At the back of my grandparents house was this ‘tiny, little house’ that I would usually see only my grandpa (who we lovingly called Bobup), and my uncle Anson go to, with toilet tissue in hand.  This ‘tiny little’ house was neatly built with wood and a few sheets of galvanize represented its roof.  Mind you, there was a full bathroom and toilet inside of the house, but for some reason or the other Bobup and my uncle Anson would not let go of the pit latrine.
I remember being left sitting under the mango tree in the front of the house and being told “don’t move, ah coming back, ah going in de latrine”.  While sitting there I would keep constant watch over the latrine wondering what on earth Bobup and my uncle do when they went in that thing. (they went on separate occasions of course).
Anyway, one day I was finally left alone and curiosity got the better of me, and I was off to the races.  After scoping out the scene and making sure the coast was clear, I quickly made my way over to the latrine, and as I got my hand on the door, I took one last look to make sure that nobody was watching.   I stuck my little hand under the space in the door and pulled to open it.  But there as a little latch keeping the door locked.  I pulled on the door a few more times but was still unable to get it open.  Without relenting I decided to stoop down and peep under the door.  As I did that I realized that my arm and shoulder could fit under the space.  I moved my hand back and forth on the cold damp dirty concrete floor, but neither could I see or feel anything.  In my own wisdom, I thought if my hand could fit, then my feet could.  So I held on carefully stuck one foot under the door and was in the process of trying to stick the other in when I heard somebody yell “look at what this little big head girl trying to do”!
I was startled and fell to the floor.  A few slaps, a stern warning and a bath later, I was sitting under the mango tree with Bobup with only thoughts of getting into that latrine on my mind.
Fast forward to about three years later, both Bobup and my mother were now deceased.   My mother died first, and Bobup went a few months later via a massive heart attack.  Many said he died of a broken heart after she passed.  Mind you, my mother was his daughter-in-law.  Not his daughter.  But like everyone else, he loved, loved, loved my mother!  But anyway, I digress, back to the real story, before I get weepy.
After my first adventure of trying to get into the latrine by crawling under the door, the slaps were hot enough to keep me away until I was tall enough to open the latch on my own.
With Bobup gone, that left my uncle Anson as the only one in the family using the latrine.  All this time, still no one ever told me the purpose of the latrine, and seeing my uncle go in there a few times per day, only ripened my curiosity.
One day while my aunt and grandmother was entertaining guests in the house, I had the perfect opportunity to find out what treasures were beyond the latrine door!
As kids, we were not allowed anywhere near the living-room when adults were having discussions, much-less when there were visitors in the house.  We were allowed to come outside, acknowledge the person(s) and disappear!  This was my perfect opportunity to really disappear.
I sneaked through the side door, and into the back yard and headed directly to the latrine.  I had to tiptoe just a bit to reach the latch, but I reached it, opened the door and quickly slipped inside.  As the door closed behind me,  I could feel the intense heat of the small room with unsealed galvanize and the sun beaming down on it.   My lungs were filled with the most horrific scents!!  Did I run out?  Noooooo!!  I was still curious.  As I covered my nose to mask the foul scent I looked down into the pit of the latrine.   It was deep and dark.  I could see nothing.   What was my next move?  (shaking my head)
My next move was to climb into the pit of the latrine!!!!  As I carefully placed one foot at a time into the pit, I was now holding on for dare life onto the seat of the thing, while my feet just hung in mid air.  When I realized that there was no ground under my feet, neither did it seem to be anywhere close, I decide that it was time to get the hell out of there.  That proved to be much easier said than done.
As I tried to pull myself up, nothing happened.  I couldn’t figure out how to use my upper body strength to get out of the hole.  After a few futile attempts, I started to cry desperately.  I was literally in deep trouble.   I knew that if I fell in, I was going to die.  I also knew that if I held on and kept screaming for help, someone would eventually hear and come get me.  I also knew that after being rescued from my hell hole, I was going to get a good whipping!   Which do I choose?  Let go and die or hold on, get rescued and get a whipping?
Of course, I was smart enough to choose the latter.
HELP!!!  HELP!!!  HELP!!!  HELP!!!  I started screaming.   For what felt like an eternity, I was not letting go of that wooden seat for all the gold in Fort Knox.  The stench was overwhelming, I was exhausted, but I kept on screaming!!   Help!!  Help!!  Help!!  All of a sudden I heard my grandmother’s voice saying “what happen, who in the latrine getting on like that?”  I yelled “ma, help me, I in de hole!”  All I heard was “Oh God!”  Then the door flew open, there was light, and my grandmother grabbed my hands and pulled me out, and the slaps immediately began to fly!!    (LOL!!!!)   With every slap it was like a song “little (slap)- girl (slap)- yuh (slap) – want (slap)- to (slap) – get (slap) – some (slap) – body (slap) – in (slap) – trouble (slap) – for (slap)-  you (slap)- or (slap) – what? (slap)  Yuh (slap) – poor (slap) – mudder (slap) – eh (slap)- even (slap) –  cold (slap) – in (slap)- she (slap) – grave (slap) – as (slap) – yet (slap)- and (slap) – you (slap) – want (slap) – to (slap) – put (slap) – big (slap) – people (slap)- in (slap)- trouble (slap)!”  With every slap, came a word!   I was slapped from the latrine straight to the stand-pipe in front of the house, where I was made to take off my clothes so that I can get a proper scrubbing.  While my grandmother was bathing me, she fussed all the time, and every time she remembered what I did, I got another slap!  (LOL!!)
After that faithful day, that latrine became totally invisible to me.  It was there, yet in my mind it wasn’t.  It stayed there for a few years later and when my grandmother renovated the house, the latrine was broken down and the hole was filled with dirt.
LOL…….why don’t I have kids again?……LOL, (sigh) what a memory!!!

To vax or not to vax

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So you’d think after me having and surviving covid-19, I’d be the first to jump on the band wagon to get the vaccine.

To be honest, I was most excited when it was announced that the vaccine was available for all. I said I was going to wait until the “rush” was over and simply do a quick walk-in somewhere, or simply go to KP (my health care provider), to get the shot when they had it available for members.

When the J&J vaccine became available I was even more excited and decided, “one shot, that’s the one for me!” KP eventually sent out emails that vaccines were now available, and that members can now schedule an appointment via their app to get a vaccine. So, I did that and had about a two and a half week wait. I was happy about the wait because that provided me with the time I needed to do more research, watch and listen to the news for more info. and yes, to procrastinate!

As the days passed, the news came about the first issue with the J&J vaccine, and in steps further hesitation. A few more days, and news came in about yet another side effect, and again, some more hesitation steps in. The only thing left for me to do was to cancel my appointment. And indeed I did.

I’m still on the lamb about getting the vaccine. Everyday since, there has been more and more news about a different side effect or the possible need for a booster shot in the near future and the fact that people who had both shots are still getting the virus. Then it seems like every other week there is a new variant which seems to be worst than the one before.

I’m most definitely not with the conspiracy theorist and their foolery! But it seems like a “damn if you do, damn if you don’t” situation. I want to get the vaccine or anything for that matter which will prevent me from getting this virus again. I thank God everyday that I was not at all sick nor do I have side effects from the first bout, and I sure don’t want to tempt fate. And yes, I also see on the news everyday, people just like me regretting that they and or a loved ones hesitation to get vaccinated, and ended up on their death bed in hospital or even dying from said virus.

But, based on the reported side effects, I’m skeptical. Scared. Confused. Worried. Hesitant….just outright not wanting to put this vaccine into my body until they work out kinks.

There is no doubt that I AM GOING TO GET THE VACCINE. When? is the question. I really hate that I know that I sound ignorant. But in the mean time, I’ll stay praying and procrastinating, while I continue to follow the 2020 Covid protocols, as well as keeping my immune system stronger than ever.

(SMH – deep sigh)

My covid-19 experience

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Last November I was stricken with the dreaded covid-19 virus. Being A-symptomatic, I didn’t even have a clue that I was infected, and thank God, was not sick for a minute. My covid-19 symptom came as a clogged-up nasal passage, and only at night. For a few weeks prior to me accidentally discovering that I had the virus, I would experience one clogged nasal passage, (the right side) only as I lay down to sleep at nights.

One evening, I decided to purchase a Vicks inhaler to help relieve the nightly congestion only to realize to my great surprise that I had totally lost my sense of smell in both nostrils. Knowing that the loss of smell was a tell-tale symptom of covid-19, I ran to my pantry, where I took a pinch of sugar, put it on my tongue, NO TASTE! I took a pinch of salt, did the same – NO TASTE! Realizing what I might be facing, I hurried back to the bedroom, closed the door and began talking to God, asking for mercy and that He would heal and deliver me from this horrid virus. After talking to God, I decided to go gently break the news to my husband. Like me, he was also in denial. But I made the decision that I needed to know for sure if I was infected, due to the fact that I have been in constant contact with my elderly and already ailing father.

The next morning I woke up early and contacted my insurance provided, Kaiser, to schedule an appointment for a Covid test. I arrived before 7am and was second in the drive-up testing line. Testing started just after 8am. They did the “swab in the throat” test. I gagged a bit and my eyes watered from the swab being in my throat, but the test was quickly and efficiently done. I was informed that results will be emailed within 48 hours.

Bright and early the next morning, I woke up to an email confirming that I was positive for covid-19. As I closed the email, I said another prayer and decided to get busy making phone calls, first to my sisters informing them that I was infected and that they should all, including my dad, get tested. My other calls were to the prayer warriors in my life.

Needless to say, everyone was as astonished as I was, to hear that “super cautious, germophobic, follow the rules, ALWAYS at home” me, had contracted the virus. I was strictly following every protocol and guideline. I was working from home, as was most of the world. I wore a mask in public. My routine was to Walmart, Sam’s Club, daddy’s house, the gas station, the car wash and the occasional fast food drive-tru. I kept, and still do have a bottle of hand sanitizer and Clorox wipes in my car and made sure to cleanse my hands before I got into my car.

As I called everyone, we spoke and prayed and of course everyone had their own remedy of what I should take to get the virus quickly and safely out if my system. Of all the the advise I was given, the only one that I heeded was to go to Sprouts and get Oregano Oil, pineapple, orange (for the peel) and ginger. The Oregano oil I took by putting directly under my tongue and quickly swallow with a mouthful of water, trying my best to swallow without letting the oil get on my taste pallets so that I would not have to experience the awfulness of the taste. That, I did twice per day. I drank only hot liquids. The ginger and the orange peel were boiled and was ingested as well with no sugar or milk, three times per day. Raw garlic was also ingested twice per day, together with steam inhalation treatments three times per day. I had absolutely no pains or shortness of breath, difficulty breathing or any ill feelings what-so-ever.

While I self medicated, I waited for the test results of the other family members to come in. Within a few days, results came in for everyone else and it was absolutely mind boggling. My husband and I live together (of course), and he insisted that I kept doors open and not quarantine or self isolate from him. His result – NEGATIVE! My dad – POSITIVE! My sister who lives upstairs with my dad and was not isolating or in quarantine – NEGATIVE!!! My 8yr old nephew who lives downstairs my dads house with his mother/ my sister – POSITIVE!!! My sister/his mother – NEGATIVE!!! Mind you, none of us quarantined or isolated from each other even after the results due to the fact that the negative person in each household had to tend to the positive one.

My husband, who I must say is and was the BEST CARE GIVER! He made sure that I stayed fed with all the elixirs and potions and kept a steady eye on me to ensure that I was comfortable and getting better. Against my every plea, he insisted that I not isolate from him, including threats to remove the hinges from the bedroom door. He actually said he didn’t care if I infected him, he needed to see and hear me all the time! (no, don’t say it was sweet – it was stupid!)

In two weeks, my doctor called for a virtual visit to check-up on me, and informed that the virus had basically already made it’s way through my system by the time I realized I had it, therefore, I only caught on at the tail end of it.

I thank the Lord above everyday, that my dad, my nephew and I are on the survivors list. None of us had any complications and don’t feel anyway strange or seem to have any side effects of this dreaded virus.

To this day, my dad and nephew still do not know that they were infected with the virus.

Tough decisions

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Over this past 4th of July weekend. I visited my fathers house as I usually do to gave him a shower.

I got there and daddy was laying in bed, as usual. He was awake, gazing at the ceiling. I playfully called out him addressed by his last name. He raised his head off of the pillow, looked at me and said, “yeah.” in his now low and humbled tone. As I approached the bed, I asked him if he was okay, and he again replied, “yeah.”

I said to him, “it’s shower time, let’s get the ball rolling.” As I said that to him, he remained silent and gazing at the ceiling. I started getting his clothes and toiletries together for when he came out of the shower. I swept, the floor of his bedroom, replenished his drinks cart with water, protein shakes and napkins. I also replenished his bedside table with bathroom tissue, wet wipes, diapers and other necessary items to keep him and his bed clean. When I completed those task I set-up the shower bench in the bathroom, and it was now time to get him up and out of the bed.

I removed the blanket, took his socks off and proceeded to assisting him to sit up. As he sat up, his legs seemed swollen and tight. I began to undress him, t-shirt first. As I was done with that and started assisting him to stand so that we could walk to the bathroom, it became crystal clear to me that this was going to be one of those difficult days with daddy.

I put his walker in front of him and started assisting him to his feet and daddy simply could not stand. His legs kept sliding and he kept going down instead of up. By myself, I know that could not get daddy off the floor if he had fallen. So I quickly pushed his towards the bed, to avoid him hitting the floor. After several periods of rest, bottles of water and failed attempts, I still could not get daddy on his feet to be able to get him on his walker so that I can push him to the shower, much less to get him to stand or walk there.

After about 45 minutes and 45 attempts to get him on the walker, I was now drenched in sweat from head to toes and he was not thrilled in the least. However, I was able to pull a few stunts to get him seated on his walker for the ride to the bathroom. Needless to say, the struggle was just about to same to get him from the walker to the shower bench. But I did it. I was determined to gave him that shower.

See, I made a promise to my father that as long as I have the strength and will-power, I will not let him stink!

So, I got him on the shower bench, got one leg in the tub, slid across so that it’d be in the tub, got the other foot in, took a few deep breaths, mustered up the courage and strength to go on, opened up the faucets and made it rain that cool water on him.

After the shower, the task started all over again. Same scenario to get him out of the tub and back to be bedroom. This time we were both wet! He was wet from the shower and I was wet with sweat. This time I propped him up on the bedroom wall, held him there with one hand, while I tried my best to quickly dry him off with the other, seat him on the walker and pushed him back to be bed so that I can put lotion on his body and dress him.

It has become clear to me for the past few weeks that daddy seems to be getting weaker on his legs and we can no longer care for him at home. After all that I went through yesterday, I’ve decided to explore the options of putting daddy in a nursing home, where he will be able to be cared for by people who are better trained to care for him.

With all my heart, this not what I want to do. I also know that this is not what daddy wants either. But daddy’s health seems to be diminishing and he needs constant and around the clock attention which my sisters and I cannot provide with him being at home.

This is a tough decision. One that I was hoping and praying that I would NEVER have to make. On one hand, I want to keep daddy at home, in his house, where he is most comfortable. On the other hand, I want daddy to get the best possible care and attention that he needs at this critical time in his life. I’m well aware that putting him in a nursing facility is not going to solve this problem, because no one is going to be totally assigned to him or to just sit with and watch him all day. As a matter of fact, the situation could get worst instead of better. But I am willing to take that chance on better care for his overall health and wellbeing.

The wicked wizard is dead

Photo by RODNAE Productions on

This morning while getting ready for work, this crazy memory of my childhood came back to my mind and I couldn’t help but to shake my head….

Living back home in Trinidad, we had a crazy neighbor who was just evil, for no apparent reason.

This neighbor, may God rest his wretched soul, would be awake during the most ungodly hours of the morning just making all manner of noises, cleaning his yard, gardening, sweeping and washing the street, cleaning his car, feeding his dogs and all sorts of weird things which would disturb the entire neighborhood. But he was more of a menace to my family because our house was closest to his from the other neighbors.

He had a coconut tree in the front of his yard with very low hanging branches which connected with the city’s electric wires and subsequently our gate. Now the issue is, whenever it rained, we were trapped on our property because we couldn’t leave because the wet coconut tree branches that made contact with electric wires then our gate, would become charged and carried that high voltage from the power wires above, making it impossible for us to touch our gate to get in or out, without getting juiced or and fried to death by the electric charge.

For years, my dad and other relatives pleaded with this man to cut the branches, that were making contact with wires – not the tree, just the branches. It was explained to this man in every possible tone that we cannot come in contact with our gate once it rains. The gate would be super charged with high voltage electricity. If we were out, we couldn’t get in, and if we were in, we couldn’t get out until the sun comes out and completely dries the tree, its branches and the gate!

His answer was always, “I’m not cutting my tree!” No matter how much it was explained, that we did not want him to cut down the tree, but only the branches that are making contact with the wires, he just didn’t get it and turned a blind eye and a deaf ear and never complied. So we were always on “rain watch” to run out and open the gate so that we would not be trapped inside or outside of our property after the rain.

One day the guy who cleaned our yard called my dad and informed him of what we already knew, which was that this neighbor was not just evil, but he was also doing evil. While cleaning our yard for a significant number of months he came across different relics, symbols and other things that were obviously tossed there by someone trying to cause harm by doing voodoo or evil.

Our yard person, Mr. Fox, was very familiar with these things, because his father was heavily involved in the occult. So he knew these things when he saw them. So for months, he continued cleaning the yard as usual, but he would gathered all of the things he found and removed them from the property. But this particular day, what he found was so startling, that he had to bring this issue to my dad’s attention. To this day, I do not know what he found, but he told my dad, that the neighbor was “nasty handed” and trying to bring harm to the family and he told my dad he needs to buy salt and sprinkle it at the four corners of our property, every other day.

Now back then, my dad was super busy running multiple successful business and did not have the time to be walking the property sprinkling salt every other day like a crazy person. So, he took Mr. Fox’s advise, but just to a whole other level.

What did my dad do? He went to the local wholesale store and purchased a huge sack of salt and waited until it was light out at the evil neighbors house, and he went on a salt throwing spree! My daddy not only salted our entire yard, and not just the four corners as instructed, but the evil neighbors yard as well! He threw salt on his roof, on his car, on his porch, under his house, in his yard, on the street in front of his house, in his garden, on his stairs…..nothing was sacred! Salt was thrown just about everywhere a fistful could have reached.

The next morning we were awoken by the house phone ringing. Our neighbor to the right, called and said to my dad, “so your boy died last night.” Startled, daddy said, “who boy?!” He was then informed that the evil neighbor died sometime during the night, and the “white van” came before sunrise to take his corpse away.

According to Muslim rights, he was six feet under by twelve noon.

The next day, his wife and daughter who NEVER spoke to us a day in their lives, suddenly called my dad and told him he can cut down the coconut tree! They became our friends and wonderful neighbors from then on.

Years later, we found out that he wanted our property, so he was doing evil to try to get us out.

(There is something with salt and my family, because I remember having another salt episode with old aunty Edna)

Hello world!!

Well, where should I start?! From the beginning I guess….So here goes nothing!

I have been blogging for over five years on Microsoft Spaces, (2005 – 2010) then for whatever reason Microsoft decided they couldn’t maintain Spaces, so they migrated us to WordPress. On the final day to do the transfer, after I hit the send button I expected to see my years of writing automatically appear somewhere on WordPress. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen, and for several weeks I tried and cried for hours to locate my work and couldn’t. I kept getting error messages and was unable to find my posts. I send several emails to both Microsoft and WordPress informing them that I cannot find my blogs, no one ever answered. Long story short, I just gave up after weeks of constant checking to see if my space made over to WordPress and just never found it.

But lately with the “Covid-19 shit-uation/plan-demic”, I’ve been longing for an outlet to just get back to writing and ranting or just to loose myself from the stresses of work and life, so I decided that I’d try to making time to start up a blog again. So after talking to my friend Marsha and telling her I need get back into writing so that I can vent and get my intolerance for stupidity and stupid folks under control, and she expressed that she really enjoyed reading my mess back then, so I decided to do a search for a site to restart a blog, and WordPress popped up, then I remembered that’s where my former blog was transferred to! So I followed the instructions and entered my email address and password and got a message stating to check email to confirm who I am. So I checked my email and it literally said, “Just hit the MAGIC button to get started!” So, I hit the button and was literally floored when my ENTIRE BLOG – ALL OF IT popped up!!!! I cried tears of happiness for this discovery, because I thought it was all lost and gone forever!!

So, now that I feel I have a good head start, I’m getting myself acquainted with WordPress and its operations, and it will be off to the races as soon as I possibly can. It’s been ten whole long years since I wrote a blog, and of course I’m older and have less patience and have gotten a bit daft on certain operations and functions of the computer.

Buckle up, it’s going to be a wild ride….boy do I have some rants and crazy stories to tell!

In the mean time, feel free to browse around in my archives.

What is going on?

Just got an email from Chocolate with regards to making the switch from Spaces to WordPress, so I rushed on here to see what on earth is going on, only to be greeted with the official notification that Spaces is going away!
What is going on?  Only recently Whazat was going through her history and stated how much she missed all the friend she used to have.  I can’t help but to think that this is just going to crush us all.  I’m confused.  Then it says we have until March of next year to make the switch.  What if I don’t want to switch?  Does that mean we are going to loose all of our great entries in history?  No mention was made of the history being transfered.   I’m sad.  I’m confused.  I’m…..I don’t know what to say or do at this point.  I hope our history will be making the move too.
I visited a friend (KC from Canada – remember her?) quite a while ago who left Spaces to go to WordPress, and I didn’t like it over there back then, and I’m not sure I’d like it now. 
Chocolate, to answer your question – I have no idea what I’m gonna do right now.  But it seems as though the result is that we have no other choice but to make the switch eventually. 
Anyways, as I always say, change brings noise until it settles.  Let me visit this WordPress again and see what it’s all about, since that’s going to be our new “spaces home” soon.
(Sigh) – Starting over is just as hard a breaking-up!

A few things

Hey y’all!  Just dropping in to leave a note about a few things that’s been happening with and around me lately.
Well, after posting about my new job last week, I have to let you all know that I had to quit that assignment.  Why?  There was too much girlie drama going down.  I was working in the scale house at a recycling plant.  I was training with one individual who had a STINK attitude because she was obviously intimidated me and she started creating problems and I quickly made my exit, because I’m not down with the drama that she creates, I’m not going to have anyone treat me like crap.
So, I’m at home again for a few days waiting on another assignment to come up.  Yes, I know the golden rule is to get one before you quit one – but this situation warranted walking away with my dignity and sanity in tact. 
Anyways, the hot topic as of this past Tuesday is this mess that is going with Bishop Eddie Long being accused of sexual misconduct.
I’m staying mutual in this story, since Bishop Long is “my spirutual granddaddy”.   He just happens to be my current Pastor’s spiritual father – he used to be a Pastor at Bishop Long’s church, before he had his own church.  Bishop Long even preached at our church a few weeks ago at Pastor’s anniversary. 
So I’m staying in faith that none of the allegations are true and all parties involved will do the right thing so that this mess can go away just a quickly as it came up.