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rilenerocks · 4 years

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February 28th, 2015

Michael woke up feeling nauseous and vomited bile. We waited a few hours – then he tried an Ensure and some applesauce. Those came back up so off we went to the ER for dehydration and anorexia evaluations. Neither was found and his blood work was all within normal limits except one liver enzyme which is still recovering. He is still taking oral pain meds-are they the source of the nausea?

We roll into early March, getting ready for the next scans. There are times when the pain abates and Michael experiences occasional hunger which we try to maximize, stuffing food into him to in an attempt to keep him as strong as possible for whatever lies ahead. On these good days, we go out for a meal or try to see a movie. During one of these rare forays into regular life, a romantic song from our very beginning pops up in the film. We both get chills and squeeze each other’s hands tightly, as for a moment, we drift back to that exquisitely innocent time. Meanwhile, our oncologist Dr. Luyun, has decided to have M try a fentanyl patch for pain. Michael is ready to try anything at this point. He experiences immediate relief and feels great for a day or so, but the pain returns fast. We received little information about how long it takes for the drug to build up in the bloodstream so we didn’t realize that he’d need supplemental oral meds until it did. We are so overwrought and frustrated. When he’s hurting and tired, I am as well. He’s tired of reminders about food and drink and I’m tired of feeling impotent. Our personality differences serve us poorly during these stressful times. When I get quiet, to stop being a bother, Michael doesn’t like that personality either. Finding a balance is hard as I am imperfect and certainly not saintly. Neither is he. At night, I lie in our bed, feeling him twitch and have tremors. We never sleep apart – there’s no room for that distance even if we’re both irritable.

March 9th, 2015

I lay here, wondering what the scan results will show, where the cancer is now, if it’s hitting his spinal cord, whether he will have permanent damage, become a quadriplegic, lose control over bladder and bowels. I want to know everything and nothing and I want both to hurry up.

By mid-March, we have scan results that show that the cancer spots are all growing but still reveal no clues about the cause of the intensity of Michael’s pain. We asked for a referral to orthopedics where there’s a very smart doctor out of Harvard. After checking all the scans, he recommends MRIs for the lumbar spine and both hips. He thinks those will provide the best diagnosis which can’t come soon enough. I’m still writing to principal investigators running Merkel cell trials across the country. The idea that you can get into a trial easily is completely false. The bureaucratic aspects are truly maddening, especially when there’s blatant evidence of a terminal disease. If a person is going to die anyway, why not let him have a chance? But that thinking is for another time.

The MRI results are terrible. The cancerous lesion that has been sitting in the disk at T-12 for months has permeated the disk wall and is compressing the lumbar spine. All the nerves in the cauda equina, the nerve bundle in the thoracic spine are being squeezed. Big pain. We are now in a medical emergency and in need of a neurosurgeon. Our radiation oncologist tells us that the disk has to be removed and that an artificial one must be inserted in its place. This would be a lengthy, complex operation. We quickly acquire an appointment with the most experienced neurosurgeon at our facility. He reviews all the MRI images and informs us that in his opinion, this compression is not a medical emergency and that we should return to oncology for radiation and chemo. We sit dumbfounded. There’s no time to go hunting for a different doctor. We realize that his pronouncement is code for either 1) his not being able to perform the procedure, or 2) that there isn’t any point in trying. We head back to Dr. Stanic, our radiation oncologist, who takes a deep breath and designs a radiation plan for the lower thoracic and upper lumbar spine which he warns carries the risk of paralysis. The treatment will be coupled with the chemo drug Topotecan, the second line of defense for MCC. Michael and I are both terrified but he continues to be willing to do whatever what might possibly keep him alive. For me, I bounce between admiration and despair. The appointments are scheduled.

The beginning of April starts with the first of 15 daily rounds of radiation. The chemo will be given once a week. This beautiful spring month will be consumed by treatment. When Michael isn’t too fatigued, we decide we’ll just enjoy spending time with our family. Our world has gotten very small. Michael is inner directed and focused on trying to stay alive. I’m committed to helping him in any way I can. The stress is punishing. On April 6th, the fourth day of radiation, we are entering the Cancer Center when I receive a phone call from one of my nieces, letting me know that my brother was found dead that morning by his wife. The cause was determined to be congestive heart failure. He was a troubled guy and in the previous few months, I’d been so consumed by Michael’s cancer that we’d barely spoken. There was nothing to do but go forward, sitting in the waiting room during the radiation appointment, contemplating life and death and everything in between. My goodbyes to Fred would have to play out as I kept plowing through what was in front of me. No more big brother. The days went by, blending into each other. Every time there was a chemo treatment, Michael would have blood drawn to see if his counts were stable enough to cope with the infusion. When the time for the third one came, his platelet count was so low he was at risk for a stroke. The chemo was withheld and instead he had a platelet infusion. Then he started a course of steroids to try preventing any potential bleeding in the brain. Another stunning blow. April is ending.

We head into May, trying to achieve some stability, physically and psychologically. There are days when Michael feels okay – we head outside to appreciate the weather and the garden. Throughout his entire ordeal we have managed to stay intimate. On May 6th, during the process of running my hands over his familiar body, I find a lump in a new spot near his spine. The next day, I call our oncologist to request a scan and find out that he’s resigned from the clinic. We are now without an oncologist – every original member of Michael’s treatment team is now gone. We go back to Dr. Stanic who quickly orders the scans for the next day. The results show stable disease. I can’t understand it. I remember that PET/CT scans don’t show any masses smaller than a centimeter. Now it is May 11th. Our May 1st wedding anniversary kind of slipped away. After running an errand, I came home and found flowers, anniversary cards and Mother’s Day cards from Michael which make me weep. May 18th. Michael seems to be getting weaker. His appetite is poor and he is deconditioned. Sleeping a lot and getting breathless just walking through the house. I’m reading books for widows. I don’t find them very enlightening. Michael talks about death with dignity, although he says he feels stable. He doesn’t look stable. He is weak but trying to act normal.

What is happening inside me? I feel like pieces of who I am slough off every day. Like silt.

May 24th, 2015

I am lying in my bed on the morning of my 64th birthday. Michael’s hand is on my leg and I’m listening to him breathe. I fear this is the last birthday he’ll be next to me. Forty three birthdays shared. This one feels meaningless. There is a lump on his neck at the base of his skull. Last night I felt one in his left groin. Scan or no scan. These lumps are real. I am walking through this life, feeling mostly dread. My hope is dwindling. I have used myself up.

May 29th, 2015

This morning I found 3 pea-sized lumps on Michael’s head, very close to the site of the excision of his tumor on February 25th. The lump at the back of his neck is a tumor. I just know it. On Monday there will be biopsies of his head. This time, the surgeon is too busy to see him and a physician’s assistant will do the cutting. We know it’s Merkel cell. We’re only going to let him biopsy one growth. Then we’ll finally have the soft tissue requirement that kept him out of the Barnes clinical trial. We are still hanging on, albeit by the proverbial thread. We meet with a palliative care team on Tuesday to see if they can help keep Michael comfortable, both physically and mentally as this all unfolds. So much darkness while we fumble forward.

June 2nd, 2015

I am visiting mom at the nursing home. She has about run out of money and I am trying to get her Medicaid in the midst of my nightmare. She always remembers that Michael is sick. She asks me, “if Michael dies, do you think we should try living together?” I remind her that we already did that. In the midst of her dementia and my grief, we both laugh.

June 5th, 2015

Michael is getting weaker and less hungry. Today is his birthday. We spend a lot of it crying. Michael’s emotional pain is finally bursting out of him. He says he’s never lost anyone before, that the first person he’s losing is himself. The kids come over and we all sit in the yard for awhile. We all act just like ourselves which is both bad and good. The weight of what’s ahead of us is like a massive tsunami getting ready to wash us all away.

June 8th, 2015

SCAN DAY.

June 16th, 2015

The week has been madness. The scan of the 8th showed widespread disease including a pleural effusion which is one of the reasons Michael’s breathing is so labored. Dr. Stanic soberly tells us that malignant infusions are virtually impossible to get rid of so that we should be prepared. Lumps are pushing out everywhere, neck, collarbone, both rib cages. I have no idea how Michael is still breathing. We now have a new oncologist, Dr. Zhang, who we’d seen a few times when Dr. Luyun was unavailable. He is smart and aggressive. We go to see him the day after the scan. Michael is so weak he’s in a wheelchair, but eventually has to lie on a bed in the infusion suite for his appointment. Miraculously his recovered platelets, plus the soft tissue disease finally qualify him for the trial at Barnes. Dr. Zhang goes to call those awful people in St. Louis to clear a path for us. Now all we have to do is gather up all the records, forward the scans and move into the trial. At last. Michael is resting at home while I run around gathering all the information. Again, I’m communicating with Dr. Linette and his nurse. A few days pass and there is no action from Barnes. When I call in again, I’m told that Michael isn’t in the trial, but rather that we have to come back so they can do their own scans. I am enraged and feel like I’m going to have a breakdown. I vow that when this ends, I will eviscerate Dr. Linette and his harsh nurse Joanne. Meanwhile we are to see Dr. Zhang tomorrow.

June 17th, 2015

Dr. Zhang is infuriated to hear that we are not in the trial. He asks us to sit and wait for awhile. When he returns, he tells us that he has managed to order pembrolizumab (Keytruda) off-trial for Michael and that he will receive an infusion immediately. This drug is in the same immunological family as the trial drug at Barnes and has been used for melanoma patients. This is an outside the box move. We are grateful for anything as we get ready to leap into this unknown, untried space. Unless this drug is a miracle, we have to face Michael’s death. Can we find a way to walk this path without crashing into a thousand pieces? Michael has suffered agonies. I am as close to him as anyone can get to another human being. Off to the infusion suite.

June 20th, 2015

I am lying in bed with Michael while I still can. The days are the same. I wake thinking of his death and the horror it will bring. I go away to the park in the morning and cry. Then I run errands and on good days, I swim for awhile. Then I go home and wait for him to come downstairs so we can begin the endless battle over food and protein. He sleeps a lot. We are next to each other, often in silence.

June 18th, 2015

Although it seems crazy, the day after the Keytruda infusion, the visible tumors on Michael’s body seem inflamed. The immunological drugs are supposed to remove blockades from the body’s killer immune cells, releasing them to kill your cancer. This sudden release produces an inflammatory response. Michael’s fatigue is profound. But I decide to start measuring what I can see to track the potential progress. Within two weeks, the tumors which initially looked worse, are visibly shrinking.

Michael is dragging himself through this process. Even though his style is so different than mine, I am awed by his stubborn courage. The Keytruda has impacted his pleural effusion. Twice in July, he has had to be “tapped,” to have fluid drawn from between his lungs and body wall. This is done by inserting a needle into his back. Dr. Zhang doesn’t want to chance having any tubing inserted permanently to stave off the risk of infection. The first tapping fills a 2 and a half liter container. The fluid is blood-red and is 100% Merkel cell lymph fluid. The second tapping fills 3 liters – as I look at it, I think half of it looks more amber colored than red. It appears the drug may be having a positive effect. July 12th, 2015

Mom has fallen in the middle of the night at the nursing home and has broken her hip. I run to the hospital where she tells me that she doesn’t think she can “make it through this one.” I an worried about surgery for her but the orthopedic surgeon says the pain without intervention would be intolerable. What he doesn’t talk about is the hospital delirium that accompanies dementia patients after general anesthetics. Mom survives the procedure but is in a dreadful mental state in addition to having post-surgical pain. For eight days, I run back and forth between her and Michael – finally I request hospice for her and a return to the nursing home before she forgets it altogether. I have to fight for hospice but she actually recognizes my conflict with the staff and supports me. Four days after she’d been returned to the home, I receive a call from a staff member saying that she’s asking for me, just as I’m walking Michael into the cancer center. My daughter swaps places with me. My sister joins us on that July 24th afternoon and we sit with our mother, watching her slip away.

She died on July 25th. We had a rapid funeral with those of her family who lived in town. The heat was blistering and I was terrified that Michael would keel over at the cemetery.

Four days later, our beautiful dog Flash, who’d developed a cough, had me very worried. I took him to the vet and asked her to diagnose him before I left. I didn’t think I could stand to bring him back there again. Bloodwork showed nothing but then she X-rayed his chest. Poor Flash had lung cancer and a pleural effusion, just like Michael’s. I held him as he was euthanized, went home and sobbed with the whole family. What an impossible time.August, 2015

Michael was still fatigued but slowly improving. The physical part was challenging but so was the mental exhaustion. I was utterly spent too, but continued to push forward. Day by day, he began to recover in teeny increments. We went out to eat. He worked in the yard. We tried a staycation at a hotel where he sat bundled up and wasted, but was grimly happy to be out of our house. We went to a rock concert at our local sweetcorn festival.

September, 2015

Scan month. Living between scans may be the hardest challenges we faced those many months. As time went by we got smarter about them, scheduling the follow up appointment for the day after the scan so we wouldn’t have too much time to worry. The early September scan was no exception – we went in for it one morning and by the next were getting the results. Which were spectacular. Between June and September, 80% of Michael’s cancer had vanished, including the pleural effusion. Dr. Zhang brought a colleague in to see the results as he was so excited he was barely contained. Michael was one of the exceptional responders to this new class of drugs, one of the 30-40 % whose bodies were just waiting for help in unleashing their cancer-killing cells. We were thrilled but still cautious. Every three weeks, there would be more treatment, more blood tests. But Michael was almost over the precipice and now, was back in his life. And mine.

Cancer Drops the Hammer – Part 2 – Chapter 10 – Be 278 February 28th, 2015 Michael woke up feeling nauseous and vomited bile. We waited a few hours - then he tried an Ensure and some applesauce.

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xottzot · 7 years

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2017-4(APR)-20-Thursday.

This is what it's like for an ordinary trypical day in this hellhole....

Yesterday, (Wednesday) I was so exhausted, and in pain, that I went to bed. And when I got sleepy, I went to sleep because I have ben not having hardly any proper sleep....for well over a year now. (and for THAT I was actually accused of it all not being much of anything important.)

I went to bed exhausted.

But I woke up 1.5 hours later. I awoke from a nightmare, and into the nightmare reality of this shitty hellhole. I don't know what woke me, but often it's a shithead on a motorbike tearing about, registered, legal or not, it doesn't matter to them. And they go thru the pedestraian walkway then violentally and delineratly put on bursts of speed and fly loudly along the roads. -- Whenever they return this way, and they do so often to evade Police who canot get past the barriers put there to stop vehicles from going thru), they go thru the pedestrian walkway again and roar off.

Or it could have been poor Sam & Max. Both dogs also had bad nightmares. Sam was whining and upset in his slep a LOT. I tried to gently wake him but couldn't for quite some time. I always try to rescue them from nightmares. When he did awake, he sighed then breathed as if he had been running hard. He kept getting too hot and would constantly try sleeping in new sleeping positions on his back to cool off.

Then, later, it was Max who was having nightmares. He too was making a lot of noise in his sleep. And when he wasn't doing that, he has now developed a massively noisy 'snoring' for a dog. It's so loud that it almost sounds like growling. He's having a lot of trouble breathing.

But awake I was, and despite everything, I could NOT go back to sleep no matter what I did. -- And so I was laying there trying to get to sleep which I did not, and could not, achieve until the NEXT day (today) on Thursday sometime not long before dawn.

All overnight and well into Thursday it had been too-warm (despite a fan blowing straight upon me). It was too hot to get under the covers, then (later), still hot but too-cool not to be under some light cootton ones.

The only time the temperature became tolerable was when the cool-before-the-dawn period arrived. And that period has become shorter and shorted and closer and closer to actual dawn of each day.

Thunderstorms are (crystal ball gazing predicted) by the weather department for this area which they previously claimed were starting in a day or two. Then they changed them. Sorry no rain! But already the forecasts they published are already being changed again. The days of (maybe rain percentages) have diminished greatly, and some of the days they forecasted would have rain now are NOT going to have rain. This is common now for them and has been for quite some years. Nobody knows when it's ever going to actually rain until it actually really does rain. And then they have no idea how much rain is going to fall. - If they predict a LOT, then nothing can fall, if they predict fine weather, then it's liable to rain. But that's all completely unreliable too. You cannot just expect the reverse of any official forecast occuring in this hellhole. You cannot expect anything to be normal. - It's VERY dry here. Deathly dry. Plant life that's green is unusual. Quite often anything that's green is the result of residents responsibly and reservedly pouring on water to keep everything alive. Or at least upon things they cannot have dying, such as trees that supply desperate shade and slightly cooler air in more hotter periods.

And do you know what? - The official water department was on a crusade being very vicious upon anyone using water 'unwisely' in their views. - Somebody just decided by looking on a map, who should have what amount of water to have. And somebody decided purely by flat geographics, that this area should be using just as little water as wealthy places situated in more cooler areas of the local West Australian metropolitan areas. Just crazy. Ignoring the fact this hellhole is always hotter than even the town of Midland just 3kms away which they hold up as saying, "Hey, THEY use less water, so should you!"

Over the years Midland has progressd to being built-up and a sea of concrete and brick and roads nowadays, and it STILL is cooler than this helhole.

But it's useless trying to have them acknowledge fact. Blanket rules and blanket decisions are common. It's all almost deing proclaimed as being holy writ now to be obeyed or be sent to hell.

So despite the weather department previoulsy stating it was going to rain for several days in amounts that would have had Noah scurrying into his Ark, now the amounts are getting lower, and lower, and upon lesser and lesser days.

Some readers reading my plaintives, this may puff their chest up and bluster, "Hey, it's just weather! - You have to expect that!"

But honestly, weather forecasts have been for many years getting less and less accurate at the same time as more and more louldy shireking declaring that they ARE accurate.

It's hard to live when you expect rain, when rain has been declared definitely going to pour down and you should batten down the hatches, but then despite a dark cloud that might go by, or the sky becomng overcast with a lot of clouds, nothing of consequence rains down. Everything stays dry, is dead and dying.

AND......also, there are times when it DOES rain. And when it does rain, it can sometimes be crazily a helluva lot. Then there are NEWS stories about that as if covering a lottery winner. And everyone who suffers from that is told, "We need all the rain we can get, so stop your complaining!"

There is no certainty.

It's all the things that climate-disruption advocates have been stating long before it all became reality but they were not only ignored but also denigrated, ridiculed, and ostracised.

And crazily yet again, then comes along 'official' sanctioned measures admitting it 'might' be true, so its best to squeeze as much money out of any and everyone to pay for it all. Always money......never enough money they want......

And for those who are NOT rich, it becomes just another burden to carry for the sake of all including the filthy rich, who are constantly being portrayed as if everyone lived like them. Just more lies.

-------------------------------------------------------

Now.......getting back to myself in this hellhole......

I was awoken time and again VERY early in the morning by all manner of shit.

First up was the very loud resonating BANG! like somebody hitting the side of a metal truck with a sledgehammer. (I challenge anyone to sleep against THAT). - It sounded like it was a big metal tailgate banged of a big dumptruck going past my window, and as always, as so happens so consantly over the years on the small urban streets, it was moving fast so as to avoid being slowed down or stopped by children going to the nearby Koongamia School, of which they put in a manned road-crossing attendant carrying flags to stop traffic to let children (inlcuding small ones) to cross to the school.

What actually occurs is that there are a multitude of workers going to work and they do NOT want to be stopped at all by that. And as an addition, they also go to the Koongamia shops to get whatever they want for the day, even trifling stuff that so many ordinary people take with them to work such as lunch.

So BANG!, goes the truck, like two metal trucks reversing into each other at speed.

I'm smashed awake.

I try to lay and regain sleep. But it's impossible.

Next (as happens everyday), as if diesel big truck fumes aren't bad enough coming off of traffic and blanketting the area and into houses, along starts coming 4WD vehicles, diesel and petrol ones. More noise, more fumes.

And because people have been in SO much of a rush in the morning to get to the shop and buy their 'absolutely necessary' shit before rushing off to work, vehicle engines aren't even warmed-up.

They churn out terrible fumes. The vehicles (and drivers) sputter and cough. And the drivers do what they always do. They push the vehicles even harder to get them going causing it all to be louder and worse.

The truck going past earlier may have been going at such speed as it rounded corners, that whatever it had in the metal tray of its back, slid across and smashed into the metal side of the tray causing the loud BANG!. - Imagine standing next to a church bell with your ear close to it as a single hard strike is made upon the bell. It's THAT loud. But it's not a 'ring' but a massive BANG! - Like a sledgehammer hiting the side of a truck. - And the driver doesn't care.

Then it's the turn of 'responsible' vehicle owners, who have sedans or whatever. They are REALLY in a hurry because it's closer to them starting work and they would never-ever even leave 15 minutes earlier if it was to save their life, so they do what they always do, drive harder and faster so they can get to work and perhaps other travel connections (rail) further on.

Vehicles go thru their gears as if they're in a Grand Prix race making each gear peak at it's highest revs before changing to another gear. They drive manual vehicles you see for whatever reasons, and they love imagining themsleves in a race.

More noise, more fumes, more stink.

I'm forced to get up and out of bed. I'm in a LOT of pain.

As soon as I'm awake, Sam wakes up, shakes himself, and that wakes Max up. Then both Sam & Max are desperate to go outside despite only having been outside for ablutions a couple of hours before in total darkness before dawn. I did that so I might get some more sleep. But of course I am denied sleep.

I go outside into the backyard with them for safety, (theirs and mine). When finished, we returned back inside and they were fed their regular dry dog food. It's been later than they wanted to be fed, but I tried to achive some sleep and was penalised for trying to sleep, not by Sam & Max.

I went with Sam & Max outside again, carefully made sure all was well. Sam is limping. Max is frightened a LOT. Max came up to me and was trembling and shaking. Sam thought it was a game and he rushed over. Max started growling. I consoled Max and he was trembling a lot.

I took Sam & Max inside this hovel, left them safely there, and prepared to clean up their ablutions as usual. Responsibly.

The time was now around 9am, anyone who mormally would go to school, would go to school, but aboriginals NEVER GO TO SCHOOL. And today is no different to them.

A filthy (as always) barefoot aboriginal boy was standing by himself on the street corner. I think it's the one who goes around picking his nose and making a meal out of it.

He doesn't like to be seen, so he walks off to the usual escape route and highway for countless criminals, the pedestrian walkway. He lingers there and keeps looking all about, and behind him. It's as if there is a physical inertia of being watched and observed that directs him onward and he slinks away.

Quite often, Sam & Max detect these shitheads wandering about (at any time of the day or night they wander all about), and they often are doing shit in the streets, throwing stuff around, smashing stuff, yelling out, arguing, threatening, acting wildly crazy, and it upsets Sam & Max a great deal seeing or hearing shitheads that they want to tear apart. It's why I can never let dear Sam & Max out there anymore as dear Fliss and myself once always did and passersby would be happy to meet them and vice versa. - But no more, not since a year or so ago when aboriginal crime leapt up faster than a skyrocket in intensity here.

Since then this morning, others have been walking all about on the streets.

And there was an anonynous vehicle observing what was going on from a short distance. whomever was sitting observing in that vehicle, saw what they saw. - Just because there wasn't a riot in the streets (yes that's happend too in the past), doesn't mean anything.

More aboriginals started coming out of the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD like a linked-sausage-making-machine, on foot or on bicycles and they start ranging all about just like they do every day especially on school days because they never ever go to any school.

And they start gravitating towards the shops areas. The car drives off and goes up to follow them at the shops area.......

Just another day.

Since then......a car ducks into the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD, just after a group of aboriginal adults walking on the roads has ambled back inside, and just as a group of wandering aboriginal criminal kids from there goes wandering about near the school area also sees the vehicle from their own vantage point. The criminal kids all pause, chatter amongst themselves, decide not to return there, and wander off elsewhere again. The car doesn't stay long. More vehicles have come and gone from there since, none of them staying long. It's like a bus station. More criminal abo kids sprout out on pushbikes and go off roaming. Now it's endless roamings times.....back and forth and thru and all around......

No yellings in the streets (yet)......but the next (almost like a printed schedule) will have those from the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD wandering all out and going back and forth and forth and back to the shops area soon enough......

Just another day.

This all happens on school days or not. Whether schools are on holiday periods or not. It makes no difference to the aboriginals. There are no designated 'holiday days', not when there there is no going to school days at all. - Ever. - Every day is just another 'holiday'.

Every day is spent wandering all about.

There is none of the bullshit 'watching over them', as was a "West Australian" online news story bleated goes on about. --- No, these ones just forever wander about at will and are under no control. -- Just like the aboriginal toddler the other day sitting in the middle of the road.....all feral...all defiantly always feral......

I pity the newest neighbours (of 2 households) seeing and experiencing it all for themselves and having to put up with all of it. Never knowing who is going to be invading your property day or night at any time.

'tis nearly midday noon........

Now I must lay down and suffer in great pain. Sam & Max need consoling and reassuring, but what they want is denied them, not by me.

As I write this, Sam has been having MANY nightmares in another room of this hovel. He will return and will settle down once he is laying next to me as we both suffer. Max chooses to remain by himself but Max gets so lonely he eventually joins us, but is terribly frightened and his whole body shakes terribly in fear, and he growls in fear. I pat him and he growls louder and harder. He can't help it. - Max and Sam are abandoned dogs. - Max too might eventually calm a bit and be silent as he lays down where he knows Fliss was, and Max grieves incredibly, as does Sam, as do I.

P@11:47am---20_April-2017----I love you Fliss and want to be with you.---and just as I am about to post this...at 27 mins past noon, along comes shitheads on an illegal unlicensed unlicensable for the road motorbike, and it came loudly out of the criminals pedestrian walkway and rode all along the roads towards the Koongamia shops area of which is a liquor store too. There is no law these shitheads follow. - Those of us that follow the law are seen as weak and should be dead, so they can run ramnpant more than they already do, and are allowed to. -- Now (later) there is an emergency. There is NO WATER AT ALL in this area. How coincidental....because yesterday at the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD a plumbers vehicle pulled up there. A man got out, and went in there then returned to the street verge there with him following and a criminal kid. The plumber guy went to his utility, took a tool out, then opened up a watermains valve control and used it. Water in the area still was okay after that when he left. But now.....-- and just rememeber that the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD is exactly the the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD for a reason......such as when they ran a power cord lead ACROSS THE ROAD SURFACE from the house-under-construction being built across from them, and the bare power cord lead straight across the road back into their place so they could have power and not pay for it. If anyone else did that, there would be mighty repercussions. There would be mighty repercussions because of actively endangering public safety too. But nothing happened to the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD as always. They are invulnerable. -- There is no water even now at 13:33. Sam & Max at least have a LITTLE bit of water but not much. -- Other innocent neighbours have also come out and checked their own mains water tap controller seeking why there is no water. There has been times before when aboriginals from the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD has criminally turned that residents water mains off, as well as other neighbours. Everyone has legitimate concerns about the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD.

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