[NOTE from Modemac: This guy has been posting disgusting text ****
stories to teh Internets since the pre-Web days of the early 1990s,
when Usenet was the place to be cook online. Whatever opinions you
have about the subject matter of "Frank McCoy"'s stories (and I
certainly can't say they were to my taste), it should be noted that he
has been one of the most well-known names on alt.***.stories and
alt.***.stories.moderated since the 1990s. I always assumed the name
"Frank McCoy" was a pseudonym, in the tradition of nearly everyone who
has posted stories to that newsgroup.)
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From: mcc...@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
alt.fan.frank.mccoy
Subject: 15 years ago ...
Date: Sun, 13 Jan 2008 16:07:20 -0800 (PST)
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I posted a story (most of which *I* wrote) to a discussion-group on a
BBS which connected to something I wasn't really familiar with, called
a newsgroup: alt.***.stories, I think it was.
The story, because of the limited access provided by the BBS (less
than 32K at a time, I think, was posted in about 120 truly *horrible
parts; but the *response* was tremendous ... (most people asking for
missing parts; "PLEASE post part # XXX-XXZ ... My newsreader didn't
get those!"
The story was titled, "Her Father's Daughter"; but because of a
mistake in the title, most thought it was something like: Father's
Daugther" instead.
At the time, there was no other story *anywhere* in the world, in
print, on the net, newsgroups, or elsewhere like it: It was (like all
the stories I've posted since, a *LOVE STORY* masquerading as humor
and ***-story ... LOTS of ***! I *tried* to include about every taboo
then existing for *****c stories, including most-especially: *****,
pregnancy, and yes, "pedophilia"; or young people having and enjoying
*** and even full-term pregnancy as a way of expressing that love.
It was a hit, far beyond anything I ever imagined. I got several
*thousand* emails and responses; praising the story for it's
vividness, it's love, its reality, its humor, and yes (most
im****tantly to *me* at least) its value and wonder as a *story*.
However, as explained in both the preamble and afterword of the story,
i *really* expected this story, pure fantasy mind, to have the Police
banging at my door, charging me with "disseminating Child ****ography"
or something equally silly, considering that no real child was
involved or do***ented; and the story was pure *text*!
Still, there are thousands if not millions of blue-noses out there
that *hate* anything having to do with that Devil's Invention: ***!
Still, for year after year I kept posting NEW stories about the same
subject; but never so huge or complete. I also kept expecting the
same "Bang! Bang! Bang!" on the door from the police; but nothing ever
happened. It was actually quite a disappointment in a way; because I
*wanted* the story(s) to be challenged in court on the constitutional
issue.
Also, in newsgroups and other places; particularly assd, I kept
posting a challenge to those who claimed my stories were illegal
"child ****": Put up or shut up. Nobody "put up"
All this time I posted under my own REAL name, not an alias or other
hiding device, using my own real email address which I have paid
through the nose to keep during all these years. I've told people
where I lived; and that I am in the phone-book. I've invited anybody
to correspond with me, or even call me on the phone. So far, in 14
years, only one person ever did.
During the last year or so I've gotten tired. I still *compose* ***-
stories in my mind; and sometimes even enter them on the computer; but
I rarely go to the extra trouble of cleaning them up enough to post
and actually post them. I haven't stopped exactly; I've more like
paused. For the past half dozen months I've been too preocuppied with
my wife being sick with cancer (lymphoma) to actually post *any*
stories at all.
I *have* however, posted comments and opinions to various newsgroups;
often twitting the anti-*** groups; saying my stories are legal.
Last Wednesday, (probably a month or two before that, actully) it
seems somebody decided to "put up" and see what they could do about
this annoying McCoy person. At 10:00 in the morning, while I was
heading (****d) out to the kitchen to get morning medications for my
wife (and myself too) there was that "Bang! Bang! Bang!" on the door
that I had really expected 14 long years before. "Police!" came the
yell: "Open up!"
Not wanting the door broken down, I did ... ****ity and all. Outside
were *SEVEN* huge cops in black outfits, yes really prepared with a
huge steel pole to break the door in! As if I was some fully armed
drug-dealer about to fight it out with my cancer-ridden wife stumbling
out of the bedroom, barely able to stand, while they were chaining me
..... OOPS!
Sorry! The Internet Cafe I'm posting this from closes at SIX, not
NINE. I'll have to complete it from someplace else. I understand
there's a local IC closer to home than this one; that's open 'till
nine.
If not, the rest of this saga might have to wait.
Forgive the .sig not being mine.
Please post to assd and perhaps ac.
I've got to go.
(Not having my own computer right now.)
Frank
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From: mcc...@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
alt.fan.frank.mccoy
Subject: Re: 15 years ago ...
Date: Sun, 13 Jan 2008 19:00:30 -0800 (PST)
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.... and ... I'm back; trying to post the rest from another store
that's open later.
Geesh ... I'm told they all have basically the same hours; but the one
I chose first (because another store I tried to find something in) was
nearby, closed *three* hours earlier than most of the rest ... Because
the mall there closed at six. Oh well ....
Anyway, the keyboard *here* is about 1000% better, so ...
So there I am, in my ****d ****it, and the cops cuffing me with belly-
chain, while barely allowing me clothes to get dressed in. I couldn't
get them, they wouldn't get them for me, and the wife being almost too
sick to get them. Luckily, she did.
But ... They wouldn't allow me to take along my wallet with ID, money,
Credit-Cards, etc. This gets *very* im****tant a little while later.
Actually, it turned out to be lucky.
They *did* allow me to wear suspenders (but not belt) so my pants
didn't fall down, wear my watch, and take along my reading-gl*****
(without the case; and the eyepiece fell out; but they bagged it).
THIS turned out to be a big mistake; but not for any reason you might
expect. ;-{
So ... There I am, all trussed up like a goose, and *still* no word of
what it's all about. However, once the cops decided I didn't look
like an armed bank-robber or violent criminal about to go running for
the border in my bare feet and barely able to run at all, even without
the cuffs and chains, somebody relented and told me this was about my
*stories*; with some mention made (but not too specifically) about
"child ****ography" and me perhaps disemminating them.
Oh Geesh ... STORIES ... So why didn't somebody just come by, call, or
*ASK* me? My guess, is a "fi****ng expedition. More about that guess
later.
It seems, while the local police were there (of some kind; I'm not all
that sure) the main person(s) coming to pick me up were Federal
Marshals. It seems somebody in *Georgia* had made out a complaint
about me ... what about, other than stories, wasn't said; but it *was*
about *stories*, not what most people would consider "child ****".
Geesh.
I've always been, am now, and will be *quite* willing to defend my
*stories*, yes even *posting* stories to the net.
A. I don't think it's illegal.
B. If it *is* illegal, I contend the law saying-so is
unconstitutional.
I've always been *quite* willing to defend both of those items in
court.
However, remember it's been *fifteen effing years* (the "public"
connection I'm using won't let me use the f-word) since I first posted
HFD in 114+ awful parts; without even a *hint* of legal shennanigans.
I'm not so prepared physically, mentally, and even legally as I was
even five years ago, long before my wife showed up with cancer. I'll
admit the charge blind-sided me; because I *really* thought the police
had more sense!
(The local police do. About three year ago, when my wife was out of
her head because of a urinary-tract-infection for a day or so until
the doctors gave her propre antibiotics, *she* actually accused me of
writing "child ****". So ... I showed the police the stories I write,
pointing out it's all pure *text*, and showed them also my "library of
child ****" down in the basement where I keep my Science-Fiction and
other paperbacks. I pointed to the CP of perfectly legal TEXT I had
(several hundred paperbacks) that my wife called "child ****ography";
told them my situation, standing, and how I *was* prepared to defend
them in court. The looked, nodded, and agreed essentially that if I
was planning on defending that, I was doing it the right way ... and
left; figuring rightly that text was NOT child-**** no matter what my
wife while out of her head thought. (Another time with another
infection, she thought she was going to Heaven; and was giving away
her watch, ring, and other things like that, because she wouldn't need
them when the Angels took her. If you can't guess, she's quite
religious.) Luckily, when she isn't half or more out of her head,
these religious attitudes don't make her a complete nut. We just
disagree on whether there's a god, if if-so, whether one great enough
to make the Universe would be interested in creatures like US.
Certainly an anthromophic (sp?) god looking, acting, and being like
most ancient people's idea of what a great King was, has little appeal
to me as making the slightest bit of sense.
Back to me and LEA:
So ... They wanted my *stories*?
Geesh, why didn't they just *ask*?
And, if they wanted *me*, why not just ask me to come along?
Idiots.
So, to keep them from tearing the house apart, I said, "There's *my*
computer. Anything and everything you want is on THERE. They asked
if they could take the computer to Georgia. I refused to give
permission to THAT; but I did say they could take it down to
Minneapolis (or locally). I did *NOT* give them permission to search
the computer, to search my house, or anything else. In fact, I loudly
and verbally objected to the *entire* warrant, search, and siezure of
anything. They didn't seem to be listening; and later, in court,
alledged that I gave permission to search both house and computer(s).
I did not. Thankfully, my lawyer corrected *that*. I just pointed
out where the material they were looking for WAS. I did not give them
permission to search anything.
I *did* say, "If it's my *STORIES* you're interested in, then THEY are
right there, in that bookcase. Every light-brown cardboard "binder"
is one of my stories; and I *think* that's about all of them." So,
they collected those, actually with my grace.
I *did* make a mistake (not a *legal* mistake; but a practical one;
which I've since regretted enormously) I also pointed out the big blue
binder of *current* stories I'm working on; and said, "Those are my
stories too." So they collected that, as well. Damn. Why Damn?
Because, with the computer gone, those are the *only* record I have of
what I've been currently writing. Stuff almost all mainly for *me*
alone, and nothing I'd really been even contemplating posting to the
net. They don't need that for their idiotic and illegal "case" about
me putting stuff on the net. I don't think even they are dumb enough
to try and arrest me for what I *think* or put down about my private
thoughts, unless perhaps it was evidence of illegal plans ... which
they were not. Since they left a similar binder I didn't point out
(not containing anything interesting or im****tant to them; but still
containing stories of other kinds ... which I didn't think *would*
interest them); I feel like a fool for suggesting my *only* copy
(without the disk backups) of what I currently was thinking and
writing. Ah well: Water under the dam and over the bridge. ;-|
Anyway, while I didn't exactly get a reciept, the Marshal showed me a
list of what he was collecting (later, downtown) showing it was my
computer and the wife's ("two towers") my laptop, a loose hard-drive
(broken, BTW ... Lots of luck with that) and "a thumb-drive" WTF?
"Thumb Drive"????
Days later, I figured what the "thumb drive" was: I have an old ATI
"All In Wonder" card, that has (had) TV in/out on it. As part of
that, there was a round *antenna* used to connect to the remote-
control, with a USB ****t. I *hope* the hell that LEA won't ruin that
good antenna trying to access it as a disk-drive. With the rest of
the idiocy, I don't have much hope; though I'm going to *try* and have
my lawyer point out the mistake before they start operating on it with
a screwdriver and completely ruin it for its original use. ;-{
BTW: There actually *was* a completely broken and useless "thumb-
drive" (actually a memory-stick) right nearby ... and they didn't take
that. I finally tossed the thing. It was empty and useless; and
should have tossed the crap about a year or so ago when I accidentally
bumped my foot on the thing and it wouldn't read or write any more.
BIG hole in my computer room now.
So ... Down to Minneapolis, belly-chained and wondering how badly they
were going to tear my house apart looking for something that didn't
exist. (It's *always* worse when LEA go looking for something and not
finding it ... They keep tearing the house apart on the idea that if
they destroy the thing, maybe they *will* find at least something
illegal: guns, money, drugs, ... ANYTHING. That's *why* I pointed out
where anything and everything they wanted *was*. That way the house
isn't trashed beyond repair. NOT giving consent to the search mind;
just trying to save my house.
Of course, they misread that. ;-{
So ... 10:00 in the morning; with a judge to see at 3:00 in the
afternoon. Five *hours* staring at a wall in the "tank". I did tell
them I can't afford a lawyer (I can't.) I listed my financial
situation: I have *just* enough money to pay my bills and not get into
debt. I *don't* have any extra. In fact, to keep from encurring
illegal debts, for the past three months I've had to drop my health-
insurance and *hope* I survive the next ten months until I turn 65 and
am able to get medicare ... and hopefully "supplemental insurance"
like my wife has. If not ... I guess I'll just have to die. I try
*not* to run up bills I cannot afford to pay off. Unlike most people
with credit-card debt up to their eyebrows. Thankfully, they seemed
to appreciate that.
My court-appointed attorney points out that the Marshals have the
*right* to hold me for up to three days without even charging me. ;-
{
However, she's going to *try* and get me released ASAP ... Which sadly
wouldn *not* be that day. That's just to set up "an appearance" a few
days later. The Feds *might* want me held in custody until court
appearance in Georgia! ****. But she's going to *try* and get me out
the coming Friday.
This is what happens; they do hold me for 2 1/2 days in the *local*
pokey (near where I live) like I was a truly horrid child-rapist and
murderer. (OTOH, they treat *everybody* being held there in the same
way; from violent criminal to bad-check-passer; so I can't really
complain.) In fact, they saw to my health (Diabetes, Hypertension,
Cholesterol) likely *better* than I had been at home; missing many of
my meds while trying to ensure my wife got hers. In fact, my blood-
sugar *dropped* from a horrid high of 236 when taken in, to only 127
shortly before getting out. Wow. I *really* need to watch my meds!
It doesn't make sense to worry about the wife, when *I* die.
Oh ... The wife ... SHE wasn't in any condition to take care of
herself; half out of her mind from the chemotherapy; and *I* wouldn't
be there to take care of her ... So the police (local) packed her and
her meds up and took her to a friends to stay until the next day when
a person we'd been planning on taking care of her if it got too much
for me could take her in. I was *still* worried sick about not being
able to care for her; but at least *somebody* would. Not the same;
and not as good; but care.
Now ... Three days later: arraignment and hearing:
The officer getting me back into my "street clothes" asks me if I
wanted to wear my jacket down to the hearing. Coming *up* in the
prisoner-van had been stifling hot; and I figured I'd be either in the
van or inside a building all the way down and all the way back; so why
bother? Why swelter? So I said I didn't ned it; and would get it
back when they released me. The booking-officer seemed to agree.
Surprisingly, my court-appointed attorney (who agrees that the whold
case is bogus and probably a fi****ng expedition) doesn't have to even
*ask* for me to be released on my own (signature) bond. The people in
Georgia seem to realize I am *not* a "danger to the community"; nor
even a "flight risk". They're agreeable to my being released. (But
who knows what goes when I get down to Georgia; though just *going*
there and not violating bond will [I think] be good evidence for me
not being held down there. Of course, like no money for a lawyer, I
have even *less* money for traveling down to Georgia and back; nor
indeed especially for *staying* down there. That last *might*
actually make it easier for *me* to just say, "Hold me in custody"
rather than being out on my own. Hell, if things are bad, I might
even *request* it. They have agreed to fund my travel; though the
specifics have yet to be worked out.
So .... (HERE comes the FUN part ... I wonder what a newspaper would
make of this; and I'm *almost* tempted to call the local press and
tell them all the juicy details!)
There I am; The judge agrees I'm not a risk; and just a "signature
bond" is all I need; saying I *will* appear in Georgia at the
specified time. Now I *really* expected (and wouldn't anybody else
reading this think so too?) that they would then pack me up with all
the *other* prisoners and take me back home ... or at least the jail
*near* home where I've spent the last two days.
About an hours wait in a "holding cell" (but at least with a blanket
to use as a pillow this time) and I'm taken upstairs (still in
handcuffs until I sign my bond) told the conditions of my release (to
appear in Georgia on-time; and *not* to be posting any ***-stories or
links to any on the net.
Then: I'm told, "You're free to go ... Leave."
Oh yeah ... they *finally* give me a copy of the charges *and* (at my
very specific request) a copy of the law I've supposedly broken. Get
this:
I'm charged with: "transmitting obscene material".
Specifically, with *posting links* (No, NOT posting the material on
those links!) to three ***-stories websites: Specifically the *three*
websites where my stories *are* but *not* for posting the stories
themselves!!!! Go figure!
No, (to meet the terms of my release and what I agreed-to) I am *not*
going to name the three websites; except to say that ONE of the three
no longer exists, and the other two are Mr. D's spot carrying my
stories; along with the main repository for all *****c stories. Most
people will know *exactly* what websites (or, actually just pages)
that I'm talking about. I just won't be more specific here. Don't
want to violate my promise even indirectly. NO posted links; NOR any
***-stories.
So ... "You're released: Go home, and appear in court in Georgia in a
little over a week." Yeah ... Right!
I'm standing there in the local US Court House ... In my effing-T-
****RT! I have *no* jacket, *no* ID (they took my DL, remember), *no*
money, *no* wallet, not even a friend to call. (All of *my* friends
are here; thousands of miles away; and I don't even have Internet
access to post a cry for help! Nor money to do so.) It's *30 MILES
from downtown to home (or the jail I was in for two days) the weather
is like *20 degrees out* and the temperature dropping fast. I'm
supposed to *walk* 30 miles to home in my ****rt-sleeves, in
well-below-
freezing weather, with no money nor even ID to show who I am to the
cops if they pull me over for a "ped check" ... and find me without
ID, moneyless, and *walking* home. So, immediately I guess they'd
arrest me for vagrancy or something; thus violating my release! Or,
what if I *do* start the long treck with it getting down to close to
Zero F that night? There are many stories of people out in that kind
of cold, freezing to death in only an hour or so. That, of course, is
none of their concern!
Not *quite* as bad as that; but almost.
Desperate, I walk around to the Public Defender's Office where my
lawyer was (luckily) still there. They get me a "free" telephone to
talk into ... But I've nobody to call; and I *don't* remember
telephone-numbers worth ****. Besides, who do I call anyway? The PD
however, is a nice guy. He calls around; and there *is* a local bus
(about five to ten blocks away in sub-freezing weather). He says the
bus-fare out to my town (about three miles from home) is $5.50; and
he's willing to give me *that* out of his own pocket; as the goverment
won't. It's also getting very close to closing-time and everybody's
going home on Friday Afternoon.
Now *really* desperate, I call the one person I have a number for, the
person who was taking my wife in for the night, two nights earlier,
and explain my predicament. I OWE them big time! Her husband drives
*all thirty miles* downtown, picks me up, takes me to the jail to get
my stuff, over to where my wife is staying in an "assisted living"
home of a person who's a nurse to pick up keys so I can get into the
house, and finally back to my own house to be *home*!
Only: The wife *is* now too sick to come home; having deteriorated a
*lot* in the three days now I've been gone; so it's me alone. ;-{
You think *that* is all fun and funny?
In a year or so, it might even be to me. I can grin at it now
already.
Like the commercial though:
"But wait! There's MORE!"
Remember my coat, gl*****, watch, medicine, suspenders, Driver's
Licence, etc., all taken from/with me when I was picked up? (Also
some money which was gotten to me through other people; but that
wasn't a problem.)
Well, the booking officer at the local jail comes out with a big brown
paper-bag; and I'm delighted to see my big jacket (it;s STILL cold
out) ... and down in the bottom my medicine. NO gl*****, NO, Drivers'
Licence, NO suspenders, NO watch ... NOTHING else.
So ... How am I supposed to drive a car legally without a DL, how do I
read without my reading-gl*****, hold my pants up without suspenders,
or get to appointments without my watch?
The booking officer doesn't know. One of the women there in the
booking section *remembers* my reading-gl***** because I wanted them
with me; but they only allow *one* pair of gl***** per-person in the
jail. So, yes, they agree my stuff is missing; but nobody knows where
it is! I understand they've been *looking* for it ever since; doing
more and more intensive searches; but ....
So ... Saturday I call the local sherrif to see if it's legal to drive
down to the local licence-bureau (which luckily *is* open on Saturday)
to get a duplicate. They tell me to just tell an officer what
happened (and preferably not get pulled over). I find my wallet in
the bedroom, find my *previous* (but now expired) licence in a drawer,
and drive down and get "legal" to drive. I go over to Wal-Mart and
buy a new watch. (The original cost $79 a few years earlier. The
*exact replacement* now costs me only $44.) I find replacement
suspenders in the closet. (The others were getting old anyway.) The
reading gl***** however ... I can't AFFORD another $100 to buy a
prescription pair of gl***** with good frames and anti-reflective
coating.
That's Saturday. I only got to visit with my wife for about half an
hour. ;-{
She's *way* too weak to make it up and down the stairs for our house.
In fact, when I got back, I was afraid she was dying on me.
However, she *did* look a tiny bit better; having finally slept
through the night for the first time since I was gone.
Sunday she was taken to church, and I met her there.
More on the wife, later, and in a separate post.
So, after that, I've been working on the checkbook and ... writing
this *huge* message telling the (actually rather humorous) account of
my (so-far) brush with the law. At least NEXT time, when going down
to Georgia, I'll be somewhat prepared and *expecting* to be away.
Except for missing the wife (horribly), being in custody doesn't
bother me all that much. Boring as hell; But Federal jails aren't
nearly the hell-houses I understand some local jails are.
Yeah, I know; I *expect* to get out.
Still (worst case scenario): If my wife dies, I *won't* have much will
to live ... or even fight a completely bogus charge. If she *did*
die, I might even plead "Nolo Contendre", meaning I won't fight the
charges ... Because in THAT case perpaps Federal Prison might be the
*safest* place I could be. Because, if they set me free without my
wife to come back to ... I'd probably be dead within two days. No,
not from suicide; I'm not the type. I'd just be walking aimlessly,
probably down the highway in the general direction of Oregon, over the
mountains, in the middle of Winter, without a *reason* to live; and be
found dead in a ditch, frozen sometime next Spring.
I'm *trying* not to think about that: The wife dying.
Still, every time I see her and how weak she is ....
I wonder if she'll make it through the rest of the chemotherapy.
If she does; then it *will* be a hell of a battle.
Love, Frank.
Sorry about not having my regular .sig
I've got to close now ... This place is closing.
Could somebody please copy this to the other appropriate places?
Without a real computer, this is the best I could do: My own froup.
Frank.
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alt.callahans
Subject: And so it ends ... (Thankfully *NOT*): Update: My wife
Date: Wed, 16 Jan 2008 18:59:36 -0800 (PST)
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I came home Friday night to an empty house. Well, *that* was
expected; as when I left the wife was looking *bad* and getting
worse. Thankfully, we had made arrangements for her to stay in an
"assisted living" home a week or two earlier, if things got too hard
to make it up and down the back (7 steps) stairs. So, I figured she
would be in good hands. These were religious people; my wife is
religious; it seemed like (pardon the expression): "A match made in
Heaven."
From my veiwpoint Saturday night, a match made in Hell.
For years, my wife had expressed objections to my "****" ... No, not
so much what I write; but what I *read*. Still, that has not been her
*real* objection to my reading-material. What she doesn't like is my
Science-Fiction library; and in-particular my fantasy books. Uhuh.
As she's gotten older and "learned to know God"; she's objected more
and more to my "Demonic Books about the Occult".
Once, when out of her head with a urinary-tract-infection, she started
throwing my entire SF and Fantasy collection out in the trash ...
pretty much (I figured) throwing *me* out with the trash as well. ;-
{
Thankfully, the kid rescued both of us by calling me up at work before
I started walking down the road away from her. (I've always said, "If
you ever really *want* me to go: Just say so, and I will." I thought
she had.) The kid told me, "Dad, Mom's gone *crazy*; and I picked her
up, took her to the doctor, who had her committed for a week while
they found out the UTI was what was the problem; and got her on a
course of antibiotics that got her close to normal in only a day or
two (but they wouldn't *release* her for over a week). Ever since
then, whenever she's started acting *really* strange, I have the
medics check for another infection; and almost always that's it.
Only: Now, with the chemotherapy, her immune system is shot to pieces;
and ... Well, things aren't good.
Talking to her "caretaker" Friday though:
It seems that somehow the question of my "Demonic and Occult Books"
came up; and (being religious) somebody decided my wife needed
protection from me ... and the house I live in, and such things. That
"because she's vulnerable" I cannot be around her alone, only
supervised, that she won't be able to come back to me, even if she
gets well, etc. That I'm some sourt of *danger* to her or something;
and they (she) was forbidding me from being with my wife! Then I find
out they're using my wife's vulnerable position to *convince* her to
leave me! That, since "She's with God"; and I'm not, that it's bad
for her to be even near me.
Worse yet, SHE seemed to be swallowing this!
I was about to call the Feds, tell them to get me because I wasn't
sane any more; and put me away in Federal Prison on a "Nolo Contendre"
charge, because I had no fight left in me without her; and I figured
*she* would be dead in less than a month without me to look after
her ... and I would likely be dead from not wanting to live a week or
so later.
At this time I *thought* the local County Social Worker had put my
wife in the charge of this woman; and that she was in that woman's
custody, care, and supervision. That the CSW had somehow decided that
my wife was too weak to make her own decisions; and without ever
speaking to me had decided that this was what was best for my wife.
Sunday I had made plans (*agreed* upon plans!) to take my wife to
Sunday Services about ten miles away, like I usually did every Sunday
morning; and I'd then bring her back. Not only *that* but I'd invited
one of the wife's religious friends along; mainly with the idea that
the wife *wanted* that friend to meet her other friends at church
(Catholic vs Lutheran) and also as a witness that I wasn't doing
anything obscene with my own wife. ;-{
So ... They're supposed to be at my house Sunday Morning at about 20
to Ten. Nobody. It's potluck; so I put the hot pot of beans out in
the car. Back inside to wait.
Check voicemail: "We're about ready to leave."
Rats ... OK, we'll be a little late.
Out to the car to warm it up and get it out of the garage so whoever
drives in won't block it from exit. Back inside.
Check voicemail: "Frank ... We're ... You cant go there!" "But I was
going to go to church with Frank!" <Click!>
Voicemail while I was listening to previous message:
"Your wife says we'll meet you at Church."
About this time I figured they were telling her she *couldn't* go to
church with me; not even in my care with somebody else! I was about
to tear the place down, call the cops for them kidnapping my wife and
holding her against her will, and worse!
Get to Church, ask my wife three *very* short little questions; and
all the steam goes out of me like a punctured innertube.
The wife is a bit dizzy and always wants to sleep ... even when in the
middle of doing something she likes. The chemo takes a *lot* out of
her. The friend was dressing her for Church ... And while on the
phone to me telling me they're on the way, the *wife* goes around the
counter and back to bed!!!
Thus the "You can't go THERE!" message I completely misunderstood.
Anyway: We had time together.
Monday I talked to the Social Worker who had mad *NO* such rules or
restrictions. My wife is her *own* guardian, not me, not the people
who she's staying with, herself. SHE decides who she sees, where she
wants to go, what she wants to do, and whether she wants to be with
me ... AND SHE DOES!!!
I'm Alive!
However, I still think the woman who is taking care of her hates my
guts. I'm not allowed even to drive on her property to pick up my
wife. SHE has to deliver the wife to a "neutral location" ... Where I
suppose I won't contaminate it with my "devil wor****p" or something.
Another friend of hers, because I was mentioning how Karl Marx made a
*huge* mistake as an example of how good intentions can cause horrid
results, got the idea that I'm a Marxist somehow.
Religion: GOD, please protect me from your bigotted followers!
The wife thinks "Demon Slayer" is a book about wor****pping demons,
because it has the word "Demon" in the title. THESE people are far
worse. ;-{
Today I picked up the wife for some time to be with her ... Only I
looked in her eye and she has some kind of *horrid* greasy, *****
infection in the lower left eyelid. (The woman taking care of her is
supposed to be a nurse.) I *immediately* called the local clinic and
got a reservation to see her doctor that afternoon.
Only: Her caretaker/nurse seemed to think that because the wife was
already taking eyedrops (for over two weeks now) that such would be
all she needed ... The wife didn't *need* to see the doctor!
WTF??
I'm looking at *infection* eating a *hole* in her lower eyelid!
If she didn't get care that night, I was about to call the cops and
get her taken down to the ER. Eileen agreed with me that she *needed*
to see the doctor.
Well ... I picked her up, got her to the doctor appointment, he
prescribed cleaning, eyedrops (of a *different* sort than the
original' since that obviously wasn't working) and some Oral
Antibiotics as well. Geesh.
If this sort of thing goes on, I'm thinking the wife herself, instead
of thinking where she's at is a "safe" place because it's religious,
might want to be moved to someplace secular where she really *will*
have her body at least looked after, not just her soul.
Gotta go now. The Internet Cafe is closeing (9:00).
--
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