Then the social worker says, "we care about you...and had to look at the fucking chart to remember my name. I've been with them 18 months. She hit the trigger and I went from sad to mad in a smaller unit than Planck Time. I told them where to put their "care" and took my stuff.

I leave the building going to my car and walking away from the Holy Medical Industrial Complex who just want to cut me up and will not feed me despite over 120lbs of weight loss while in their "care." SHE FOLLOWED ME!!! Into the parking lot. WRONG. I lost it like Norma Rae!

So there's this idiot of a social worker just covering her ass cuz she cares about...hang on let me find your name...me in a parking lot following me. Recommendation: Don't follow the traumatized pissed off lady out the door to cover your ass. I turned around "Liars, thieves!"

"You care about no one. Every dying patient in there just takes your crap and your death drugs and your knives and your radiation literally lying down. NO MORE DEATH FOR PROFIT!" Oh boy did that lady back the fuck off of me and fast. I went home and killed every last insect left.

Next morning I go to my therapist. She's actually told me outright I did the best thing in her opinion by taking my power back from these idiots. I was living like a victim, holed up waiting for the next organ they want to take out of me, or a drug now FDA approved for use. Nope.

So that gets us to Tuesday, when I woke up and saw my own rib bones were showing and bruising my skin. Enough. I sat down in my newly bleached everything apartment and started forcing down my liquid food supplements. I vomited most of it up, but then one stayed down. And another.

My house in Tucson finally closed. I started crying over that. Kept forcing down nutritional shakes. Thought I would die I was so shaky and weak and sad. Thought I would die in my beautiful, now gone forever Tucson home. Gutted my soul. I made 0 money but am debt and house free.

I had 1k left in the charity account, exactly enough to bring the Mitsubishi home. It had been sitting with the mechanic for almost 2 years in Tucson, they restored her bit by bit whenever I could find some money to give them, and she arrived on the truck Thursday! I cried a lot.

Friday found more calm as I hydrated and began solid food. Avocado. Hummus. Yogurt. By Saturday I wasn't rib bruised and I was walking without my cane which I had come to have to use due to debilitating weakness from years of clinical cachexia unresolved.

Lesson: Eating and good hydration are a faster way for me to feel strong and clear-headed. Avoiding oncology suites and most medical asshats is the first step to my freedom. I lift a cockroach-free coffee in #gratitude for my freedom from the chains of greed.

All the emergency backup is gone but for one extra patrol car. The maintenance and service people where I live are heroes, night patrol lady Dee makes me feel safe. She's protecting and serving debilitated humans against the US Death Machine. I eat, I feel stronger and stronger.

The only death here is roaches. I eat, I drink coffee from a new, clean coffee mug. I will never go back to the Death Doctors. I will continue my nutritional practice. I will walk. I will strengthen myself with nutrition and love and honest, cockroach-free living. No more victim.