Click these links to find out how YOU can help:
http://www.moldvideos.blogspot.com
http://ricklandrymoldyslumlord.blogspot.com
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tavp9T49eAI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6rmmZHFgWKs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5gvfGuo7Ffw
http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=toxic+mold+supertramp+1&aq=f
The CDC, ADA, Health Department, ALL look the other way as mothers, babies, college students die & suffer while living….. All out of greed, fear & the almighty dollar.
I’m an example of a life ruined by mold, a root canal, a bug bite carrying lyme & a system that
covers up for hospitals, doctors, dentists, land owners & insurance mobsters. You can believe what I say, or smirk like Dr. Gill of CVPH Hospital mocked me; my mold samples & refused to watch the video of the moldy shower when I passed out in their lobby & briefly came to with a cop jabbing his finger in my eye & a nurse using her knuckle laden hands to grate on my chest like a cheese grater.
You can not discount the hairline fracture down my #30 that was soaking in microbes by the billions that over four dentists including Richard Foreman DDS fought me on pulling, nor did they even seem alarmed Richard told me I had cured my own trench mouth; refused to consider my #30 theory. It took me calling a 14 hour round trip radius; 20 phone calls a day by myself & advocates for months to find a dental surgeon that took Fidelis Medicaid. And going through dentist to dentist spanning multiple 600 mile trip desperation trips back to Eastman Dental caused a deadly tooth to continue to rot in my mouth from March to July 09 even though I had referrals, etc. Five months to find someone to save my life. Each time getting the door slammed in my face. All as my body suffered more.
Doctors refusing to run further lyme tests after the most error ridden one that my death option Medicaid covered proved nothing. The doctors at Spencerport Family Medicine are tied with the Unity Health Umbrella of silence due to their connection with St. Mary’s Hospital in Rochester, NY. They seemed quick to label me with early onset arthritis due to the swelling in my joints & just put me on pain killers even though my father & others saw the BULLS EYE BLOTCH on my right temple when my drunken mother decided to send the cops over to R-Wing me for writing her a pissy note that got me a one way ticket to lyme. I dumped her beer out for jerking my chain on the drunk & got another nail on my coffin as if the root canal she duped me into was not enough to earn her a trip to purgatory as soon as I felt the poison enter my veins on that nightmare night around April 22, 2008; waking up from a dead sleep with brain shattering pain shooting through my head.
Some might snub their noses at my linking Karma into the mix as this story unfolds. Others still will surely roll their eyes at the possible spiritual elements, not to forget the corporate / super rich connection that might come off too scary to swallow.
I wish this was all a hoax, delusion or figment of someone else’s imagination folks, but what your about to read is truth.
I’ve created films; acted; sang; wrote music; was an avid photographer; videographer & editor; computer geek and free spirit. I try to write a story like your seeing it unfold. This might be a bit long winded for some. It’s my first book, so please have an open mind.
Some of what your about to read has situations that might shock, or offend & language that might not meet Sesame Street. I’m from NY. We tell it like it is. See the truth & movie script behind my story. If I feel taking my word for it is not enough for you; I’ve added links to factual data relation to all scientific topics covered. Many people get turned off by the medical jargon, bio-hazard protocol procedures, basic sub-molecular biology; hence the look I often get when people grill me 20 ?’s for living in a tent. I could have been a doctor, but I lacked the patience.
I’m not claiming to be a saint, perfect, or a mold doctor. I’m just someone who had bad luck multiply from a chain reaction that started 20 some years back in a dentists office & culminated with the ruining of a life of a man with skill & ability that saw what he could have been if he had started the trip to Plattsburgh in his early 20’s & was able to talk an oral surgeon in 2001 into pulling the “Dirty #30”, rather than keep trying to get hired by Kodak (a family employer) in an building not being sold off to Chinese investors. Say that three times fast.
My parents were middle class victims of drunk & or crazy parents. So you can see I was at a dis-advantage at birth. Miles long & eons of drinking, domestic violence to name a few topics were the norms on both sides. If you were me & you pissed my father off a good expectation was getting kicked in the kidneys till you pissed yourself & “Mommy Dearest” told him to stop because I might call CPS in time for them to record the bruises; or for a fun change of pace there was always the throat choke – slam bang my head off the ceiling & drop me down on the carpet spikes barefoot & splat me across the room favorite of his. I think my only prized moment was when I pissed in his mouth for tickling me while I was in diapers. Other than that; 6’2 / 195 lbs of roid like bi-polar rage could scare you into jumping off a cliff, let alone go off to Jerry Cellura’s for a deadly operation.
People see health care providers as all knowing. We rarely question their advice. Our hope is they want to help us, yet in many cases their treatment protocols are profit driven.
Root canals are one of these such procedures. For over 60 years, the ADA has knowingly hid the negative effects of root canals. A dead tooth does not uptake blood which carries microbe fighters that control a tooth’s health. As the calcium diminishes coupled with the fact that microbes can pass freely into said tooth & into ones bloodstream as hidden as Bin Laden has ever been. This deadly tooth now seeps poison into an unsuspecting patient / victim till the tooth is removed. Root Canal Cover-Up Exposed as cited by Dr. Karen Shrimplin states:
http://www.notdoctors.com/crci3.html
“ Dr. Weston Price, a renowned dental research specialist, observed many patients with crippling degenerative diseases who did not respond to treatment. He suspected infected root canal teeth to be the culprit. He developed a testing method that revealed the presence of infection in a tooth. By implanting a root filled tooth from a patient under the skin of a laboratory animal, usually a rabbit, he found that in almost every case the animal would develop the same disease as the patient, lose weight, and often times would die. Later, Dr. Price found he could embed small pieces of the root instead of the entire tooth, or pulverize the teeth and inject the powder and cause the same results. Eventually, he found he could culture the bacteria found in a root filled tooth and inject the toxins from it into the laboratory animal and reproduce the disease from the toxins alone. It is important to note that when he implanted sterile objects or uninfected natural teeth, such as those removed for orthodontic purposes, no adverse health effects resulted.
Dr. Price found many types of degenerative diseases, including endocarditis, other heart diseases, kidney and bladder diseases, arthritis, rheumatism, mental diseases, lung problems and other degenerative diseases could be transferred to laboratory animals. He also found that a large percentage of patients recovered from their illnesses after the root filled teeth were extracted.
The primary bacteria in root canals found by Dr. Price included streptococcus, staphylococcus, and spirochetes. He found 90 percent of bacteria in the teeth that produced the patients' acute diseases in the animals were streptococcus, and 65.5 percent of the time they belonged to the fecalis family. Bacteriologists today have confirmed that Price's discoveries were accurate.”
If this is all true, then how did anyone over the last 60 years get duped into a death trip to the dentist? Why it’s the $1,500 - $2,700 a tooth + $2,500 for the crown. If your still alive when it rots out they can nail you for a $4,000 implant & fund their kids college hopes on your coffin ride. Some would like to THINK dentists don’t know the side effects of root canals. You would hope the ADA would regulate procedures that might harm someone yet the almighty dollar of greed sways the pendulum over to the “By the time someone can prove it their either dead or over the 2 year limit G.W. Bush helped set up to cover their tails with thanks to heavy lobbying by the ADA.
I don’t know about you, but if someone sets a death clock into your body like something out of a Saw flick; that’s attempted murder at the least. The courts cover up for the elite & the poor soul that could have just had the tooth pulled & implanted gets ripped off & dies prematurely.
Don’t even get me going on Chem. Trails yet………. (Here is a link to get you started: http://www.healthymoneyvine.com/supportfiles/chemtrails_photos_information.pdf)
Chapter 1: Serendipitous Back Tracking, Running Scared, Braces & White Lies
“Little Boy Made a Mistake!!! Hey…. Pink Cloud Has Now Turned To Grey.. Ohh Yeah” Angry Chair By Alice In Chains (All Rights Reserved)
Anyone can tell you “Braces Suck”. They hurt, & are hard to brush… You have metal scraping your tongue; wires that stab, poke, pull & prod. It’s torture in my book. Did I mention that braces are bacteria magnets? So the braces I hated & fought for years ended up causing cavities in my molars; especially where the back brackets were cemented in. They formed perfect cavities in both molars; top & bottom. Side cavities from the brackets made a structural weakness in my #30. My teeth always hurt with the braces on. I’m sure my tooth sensitivities were caused by my inability to keep them clean being the 13 year old candy addict caffeine fiend I was bred to be with the excellent media spending of the major sugar pushers. Is it no wonder why I wanted to wait till I was 20 to get my teeth fixed?
I fought tooth & nail to get them off. I pulled them out; broke them; raised hell & protested. My parents got off on pushing something on me that I did not want just because they could. Had I asked for braces, I might have gotten out of the ordeal if you catch my drift. I had this grand idea that if I complained of tooth pain related to the braces it might convince the two braces Nazis that I needed them off. All it did was give Jerry Cellura a reason to put his kid through college to continue killing people with root canals when he decides to hang up his rubber gloves for golf gloves.
I told my parents I made it up…… Still, Emmy dragged me into the dentist kicking. Once I saw the Mid-evil looking tools, needles & devices of pain my inner voice said “Run Pete… This guys going to hurt you more than you could image.” I ran like Thuman Thomas in his prime; spinning away from this butcher & locking myself in the car. This went on for two trips. Then “Mommy Dearest” decided to pull off one of the most harmful lies of her career by stating “We are not going to give you a root canal any longer. You just need to get a checkup.” That got me doped up & duped into the first chapter of my toxin exposure by the hands of incompetent health care providers & alleged do gooders.
Jerry burned my tongue with one of the hot pokers; sending me screaming like a Michael Jackson fan, yet that was just his warm up for the big show. The packing cotton that was placed in the temporary filling abscessed, my throat closed up & I felt like death. Ray took me to a dental ER on a Saturday just so someone could drill off the top so the puss could squirt all over the wall. Crying, pleading & begging my parents not to let this hack hurt me any further only resulted in mockery, threats such as “your going to the next appointment or I’ll beat you in your sleep you little fucker” were persuading tools often used by these control freak tyrants. NICE FOLKS EMMY & RAY HELFRICH… NICE FOLKS INDEED.
I was so doped up, I don’t recall him dropping the cotton in my tooth, yet I remember asking him not to forget to LEAVE IT OUT THIS TIME!
Years passed. In 2001, I had good dental coverage at Kodak. An abscessed set of wisdom teeth were pushing my lower teeth out of wack. A fine oral surgeon was hesitant to pull my #31, yet I talked him into yanking the shanking tooth. He advised me to get a crown on the #30. I wanted it pulled, yet I never chewed on that side so what could go wrong? RIGHT!?!?!?!?
In 2007, I was finishing up my A.A.S. after a somewhat disappointing semester at Suny Oswego in which the technology promised was not provided & the professors failed to impress me, I flipped back on my B.A. to knock out my A.A.S. in Visual Communications: TV, Radio, Audio, Photo, Computer geek extraordinaire & ended up Deans List for the 7th time. All was not well though. I had witnessed the bullying of my grandmother by both my egg donor & her brother Donn (AKA: “Drunk Ol Don”) which gave me the brave idea of staying once again at the 5 story house to play Sheriff. Little did I realize at the time that my grandmother gets off on the drama involved when Don & Emmy fight each other as well as when they start fights with me. Don has attacked me numerous times. He has had numerous restraining orders against him from his wife, myself & others. Emmy likes to pick fights & cry wolf to the police. Most of the cops knew these clowns & their M.O.’s , so when something hit the fan it was usually squashed.
I had found a job in Rochester as a video editor that looked promising & my loyal at the time girlfriend Aviviah was also a motivating factor in being back “home”. At a longer glance this was all a bad idea, but bare with me for the full scoop.
I was bouncing between my father’s 150 year old “Helfrich Homestead”, my grandmothers house, Aunt Liz’s & Hippie Mike’s while enjoying my photography courses & the new job. My attitude started to change for the worse when unknowingly at the time the ceiling tiles started degrading & shredding my eyes up. From summer of 2007 till damn near November it took me to realize what was going on. The roof leaked & I black gooped it after bitter protest from Don & Emmy. They thought my eyes were pussing up, oozing & shredding due to my imagination. Sick twisted drunks these two.
My job ran out; my promised raise after 6 months was just 6 months buying time for them. I had to fight for my unemployment for about that amount of time + because Theo Wheeler of Wheeler Communications was paying me with company checks & keeping the taxes away from the IRS. My personality was shifting towards the dark & gray. A long haul from who I was in Oswego. V’s mom was driving her nuts so my dad allowed her to stay at his house. She spent $300 + a month + my $200 on food for my dad. I was advised of my great teeth & gums during my tooth cleaning at Monroe Community College. I was even asked if my techniques could be shared with the students professor so as to help future dental students. I had lost .5 mm of gum line since 2005. I bought a softer tooth brush. Boy was I in for a surprise.
Aviviah’s mother Ruth seemed to me like a controlling, obsessive mental case. She would run right up to me as soon as I walked into her house, get right in my face & yammer orders to me that I was supposed to order V into doing. She was bizarre. Her moods were all over the place. The woman freaked me out & quite honestly I was having a hard enough time with Emmy at Granny’s…. Ruth was the extra straw that this camel liked to avoid.
None of her family could understand why Ruth was always tired, having many health issues: chronic fatigue, muscle pains, sleeplessness & headaches. She was having a hard time working even part time. I just thought she was crazy… Crazy like my mom, yet not my mom & not my problem.
Ruth’s birthday celebration came at V’s aunt’s house… A celebration that ended with people asking Ruth if she was drunk (she never drinks), or high. She was just being a loon. Jammering like an auctioneer on meth. I left the party saying “your mom’s fucking nuts, I’m going home”… People started leaving the party as I left due to her behavior.
All of this seems trivial till Ruth’s cancer screening came back. A tumor in her brain stem could very well be the culprit. I apologized to V for my attitude towards her mom, yet the damage was done.
Our relationship was over in a flash. V could not handle me still recovering from the 60 year old ceiling tile nightmare & take care of her mom. The woman I hoped to thank if I decided to go to the graduation ceremony no longer wanted to speak to me understandably.
Eight months of eye agony took their toll on my relationship with Aviviah coupled with the fact that she was jealous of all my female friends that never tried anything with me; it was her friends that needed a scolding. We were incompatible. She was the best girlfriend I ever had to an extent. Very caring, giving, smart, funny. I’ve often regretted how I treated her during those times as much as I regret how we ended up on a bitter note that is mostly my doing. Loss of sleep & intense pain for that long can really knock you down.
Chapter 2:
Well, I've been down so Goddamn long That it looks like up to me Well, I've been down so very damn long That it looks like up to me Yeah, why don't one you people C'mon and set me free
I said, warden, warden, warden Won't you break your lock and key I said, warden, warden, warden Won't ya break your lock and key Yeah, come along here, mister C'mon and let the poor boy be
Baby, baby, baby Won't you get down on your knees Baby, baby, baby Won't you get down on your knees C'mon little darlin' C'mon and give your love to me, oh yeah
Well, I've been down so Goddamn long That it looks like up to me Well, I've been down so very damn long That it looks like up to me Yeah, why don't one you people C'mon, c'mon, c'mon and set me free
BEEN DOWN SO LONG Lyrics
Artist: The Doors
Album: L.A. Woman
Realizing that the woman that helped me graduate… a woman I loved more as a friend than a lover hated my guts for the verbal abuse suffered thanks to me was tough to swallow. I was happy not to be dating her, yet missing her as a friend. The stress from this + looking for work & being under / over qualified (or being turned down all together due to a 10 + year old Misdemeanor {sending a prank post card through the mail}) x’s the court fight for my unemployment insurance was bringing me to my boiling point.
By March, I was cracking. I filed for disability…. My hope for a job in this economy was lost. I felt black listed for a 10 year old error in judgement.
April 17th; a day that relives in my mind like a film loop…. I went down to Emmy’s basement lair for some chicken that I cooked the day before only to be tweaked by Emmy in a rude manner. I took the bait; dumped her beer & rode to Hippie Mikes.
As I puffed the last toke of candy cane chronic & kicked it off in the ash tray, I jokingly said to Mike “It would be just like Emmy to call the cops”….
“KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!!! POUND, POUND, POUND!”
Monroe County Sheriff’s…….
Mike took his time coming down, as did I. He ended up outside with Officer Wiebeld (it could be Weibeld.. his true spelling is not as important as the storyline..) attempting to enter Mikes 86 year old fathers house without a warrant. At the time it was un-known that Emmy told the office I beat her up, threw ketchup packets at her & was going over to Hippies Mikes “To get machine guns, grenades & kill her / blow the house up”… not quite an LOL in my book.
Officer Wiebeld was acting like a Gestapo officer. His Dirty Harry demeanor set me off from the get go.
Mike: “Your not welcome in my fathers house without a warrant. There is no felony in progress; is there a warrant for his arrest?”
Officer Wiebeld: “What are you his fucking lawyer; hippie!!??”
Mike: “His moms a crazy cop calling drunk. She’s filed false charges against Pete, his father & other people.”
Officer Wiebeld: “I’m calling for backup”.
In come the clowns. 7 squad cars over a dumped beer.
Officer Wiebeld: “ You’re my new project. Say hi boys.”
Officer Wiebeld’s Goon Squad: “Hi Pete, your our new project.”
Officer Wiebeld: “I’m gonna get you, motherfucker. I’m going to be seeing you soon.”
Officer Wiebeld’ Goon Squad: “Is that your car, or your girlfriends? We will be following you.”
I gave them the Nazi salute a few times & told them to show me my charges or get a warrant. He called for a warrant & Mike ran in to call his sister. Colleen is married to a musician related to Mafia yet is legit. Coleen knew Officer Wiebeld’s & the Goon Squads bosses boss from church. She came over just in time with her cell phone to tell the boys the party was over… Talk to your boss..
Officer Wiebeld: “Yessss…. Yes sir.. Right away sir…
Ohhh.. you did it this time.. Your fucked… I’ll get you… This is just the beginning!!”
I raised hell from the Governor’s Office on down & our favorite officer & his boss hauled me in to speak to me out of the fear of what I could do to them legally. I was told that they apologize for the error & that it was not up to them as far as the charges. It was up to Emmy to drop them, or show up in court.
Later that week, I got the court appearance date & instead of just standing tall like the many time before; I flipped out over the fear of having a new charge on a long gone record of a petty misdemeanor. My newest stroke of genius was to try to make Emmy feel guilty for filing the false charges.
I wrote her a nasty note to the effect:
“You lying drunken bitch... You’ve done your best to ruin my life & this latest game of yours will cost me the ability to find a job. I just want to die & I hope you live to be 120 to have to live with what you’ve done to me over the years you mental case bitch.”
After I wrote it… I threw so much hate down on the paper that I was shaking. Negative energy, if you believe in such a thing. Some call it “Projection”. Looking back at things, this experience turned me from skeptic to believer. Seeing was always believing to me.
Things just increasingly got worse to the point of living hell on Earth.
I rode off in my 2005 Honda thinking an oil change at my dads house would cool my head off & be therapeutic. Mistake #3. The Sheriff’s came to my dads just about drooling over the fact that they now get to rip on me some more & stick it that much farther up my wazu with a ride to Saint Mary’s booby hatch. Try sleeping in a room with the lights on, crazies yammering & some nut next to me coming in my room to tell me how Red China, the Russians & some aliens were making a new super weapon out of wave frequencies & that HE was locked up here because he was trying to save the world as a double agent set him up for the fall.
I was refused anything to help me sleep. The first gentleman doctor heard my story & was supposedly contemplating letting me out, yet my manacle mother kept speed dialing the ward stating such things as: “don’t ever let him out, he’ll kill me.” The irony is, she put the wack on me with the root canal… The effect of this incarceration proved to be the next nail in the coffin.
They, like the Nazi Sheriff Goon Squad previously; took her words as spoken from God’s mouth. The next doctor was female & she seemed to be taking joy in keeping me there.
I was wheeled into the ward by lunch time. I was stuck there till a lawyer could spring me; my hope was to make the best of it. Joke….. Laugh…. Make friends…. Be positive!!!! I was introduced to my cell mate; Jon. Polite, kind, soft spoken & real. Jon was a great friend to have there. He was suicidal, but not really one of those “Gotta email planet Zoloft about the inter galactic planetary conference & save the Cabbage patch Kids” if you catch my drift.
Before the visit turned tragic (bug bite), it was like a vacation from my asshole uncle & egg donor witch from the East.
The food was not half bad, most (MOST I SAY) of the staff seemed well intended with the exception of the diabolical Dr. Mustafa. You think I’m kidding about the diabolical part… Oh, you naïve readers.. I’ll cross that scarred memory when the time is right.
Jon helped introduce me to people, find my room & all the basic introductory to the mad house rules. When lunch was served, I noticed a exorcist / medusa haired (I’m toying with metaphor, the only snakes she had were in her heart; after later analysis) “just got done with a good head spin, a fight with 5 guards, a good projectile puke, wall crawl & a fart”. Jon made the notice of her outer beauty. I was on this new kick about giving all people the benefit of the doubt & since I just got done with the royal ream job it was only right to try & see if this roughed up beauty was beast or maiden. I could see her brain squirming like a toad. This should have been my first warning, but without trying to sound like a sex machine, I often go where my second brain pushes my ID.
Medicated & under captivity, Jen came off like another victim of circumstance. She painted her mom out in a similar tone as what my experience was. Little did I know, or get the vibe that she was not utterly the most manipulative Black Widow / Devil Woman / Succubus I have ever come in contact with; the girl was a close second. I was sucked in like a school boy. We both had intelligence & vowed to fight to get out of here by using reverse hegemony. We exposed the flaws, safety hazards, etc. that if proven could have landed the hospital in hot water. Our other duality is that we teamed up to spring ourselves out by exposing the fact that Dr. Mustafa had little or no idea of our past medical issues, & that he was handing out pills & dosages much higher that I, or Jen were used to; on top of trying to force drugs on her that were giving her bad reactions.
The flaky yet almost mouse like (as in timid) intake nurse asked me the usual 20 questions while my sarcasm threw her off. This set the tone for an awkward relationship with someone that ended up not being a bad person. Many of the other nurses & staff came to realize that my mother needed to be locked up & I needed to be freed after Emmy’s perpetually incessant drunken rants to the main desk added up as they got to know me as a person. I had two nurses say as much. As it turned out, Emmy was also calling the Sheriff’s stating I escaped from the nut house & was coming to kill her with machine guns. As much as the staff knew I should be free, Dr. Mustafa had obviously been leaning towards following “Mommy Dearests” protocols for locking me up as long as possible with the most amount of corporate dope in my system.
Being in such a place, your credibility becomes a non factor. You lose your rights as a US citizen. You either take their drugs or get hog tied or worse. Some clown from a third world country who came here to bank roll ends up in a place no shrink would be proud of is given the power to drug me up against my will; keep me there longer if I refuse the drugs, & intimidate me with the promise of even a longer stay if I went into court to object to the prolonged stay.
It seemed as if Jen & I were being held longer than most people due to each mother’s energy pushing that concept with all their will. This was going to be a fight. A real team effort. Joining forces, we advocated for others as well as ourselves. I was wondering why a kid can come in with slit wrists for a day or two & someone like me was being held 4-5 days so far with no hope of getting out unless a judge stepped in. I was born to fight for justice. It was in my blood & I came like that straight from the factory. Like a double agent (it just add humor… come on a nut house; attractive woman wanting my help to spring her…LOL) Jen was sucking me in. She dumped her boyfriend & we began a relationship as we filed complaints regarding our care & the care of others. People were averaging 1-3 days stay. Was I just over reacting with the thought we were being made examples of (the rabble rousers getting extra time for sticking up for those who needed avocation)?
There we many funny moments during this hell. None of it makes me laugh anymore. I might share a few of the top 5 in the end of the book for those who care to laugh. All jokes end from here on out.
Act 3: The Bite in the Night from Hell
“I’m not the one who’s so far away
As I feel the snakebite enter my veins
Never did I wanna be here again & I don’t remember why I came”
Godsmack: VOODOO Lyrics (All Rights Reserved)
“Your just a parasite; I feel you in my veins
I lie awake @ night; its driving me insane”
PJ Helfrich’s “Parasite”
I awoke on the night of the 7th day stay with immense pain shooting like ice picks on a steel shore right next door to hell. A bite on my right temple felt like hell fire being injected into my brain. Tic? Spider? Either or is not my choice for want.
On repeated deaf ears, my pleas for medical attention were swept under the rug even as I saw the eyes light up from the staff as if they KNEW what it was yet were afraid if the Genie escaped…. Can anyone say LAWSUIT!? My father was too much of a camera phone cave man to keep the pic of the bulls eye blotch & white puss center that is a classic introductory marker for lyme. Had I been able to videograph the bit & my surroundings, I might have gotten proper care or had at least had enough money to find proper care.
Being ignorant of what lyme can do, I played it off after the headache cleared. Had I known that the equivalent of a nuclear attack on my body was underway, you can bet I would have raised more hell.
There were numerous safety issues being ignored across the board during my experience there. Shower areas had slippery tile floors with no safety mats. I warned them someone was going to fall & two days later two people got hurt. They even used harmful floor stripper in the wing with no safety masks or ventilation! All of this was blown off & our complaints were “lost, missing, could not be found” upon a later request. Hospitals are pros at playing CYA. And yes, I now believe that you can get sicker at a hospital.
As Jen & I filed complaints; they just kept messing up more. Our heat on the system was starting to work; we were making their lives difficult & exposing their neglect which was giving them incentive to release us.
After our court date (approx.. 10 days into my stay), it was clear that Dr. Mustafa was keeping me there longer than average with no factual reason. I was released after 14 days, a tic bite & nightmares I’ll keep with me to the grave. I had two dreams during that time that came to fruition in a sense. One of them I’ll speak of.
I was in a mess hall full of zombies. My grandpa Bob was there with a jammed shot gun. I covered for him. He was laughing like the days of old. We ran out into the desert to avoid these devils. I took the dream to mean that I needed to stick up for an old fellow named Mr. McPhearson, who reminded me of my gramps. Almost a week had gone by & no one bothered to get him batteries for his hearing aid!? Some of the staff seemed confused as to why he was not hearing them. I helped get him his batteries. It did little to reset my karma. The desert connection comes later in the story.
Jen had a small apartment in Rochester set to go. She told me I could live there. I arrived 3-4 days ahead of her. After putting her clothes away, I got ready for my hearing with Wheeler Communications. I won a hard battle & got my unemployment.
When Jen arrived, she was still medicated. Within three days, she made the bitch from the Exorcist look like Mother Teresa. One minute she proclaims her love for me, the next second she never wants to have sex with me ever again. It’s rare that someone tweaks me to the point of wanting to gouge their eyes out & stuff them in a dumpster. Imaginary people listening to us from her car speakers; making an argument out of thin air; going to bars to pick fights with drunk guys so that they start shit with me rather than punch her out; & lastly going out & having sex with one of her slew of male friends just to hurt me & piss me off were just some of the things this she devil was capable of when the coo coo meds wore off. It was clear she set me up to spring her & now I was like a tampon in the toilet; time to flush me out & find a new neck to suck on. How I managed to find someone as slick, dangerous & downright wicked as my mother so fast made me feel cursed.
I had night sweats; chills; a hanging cough; flue like issues. Awaking from a dead sleep, I found myself deliriously wrapped up with Jen like a pretzel. She was caressing my face & chanting “I love you Pete, I love you”; over & over like a friggin witch. I was scared & so out of it that I nodded off 2-3 times only to awake to it again. The next day she made it a point to state “we are at the age when our bodies are going to start breaking down”. I was clueless as to why she made this such an issue out of thin air. Was she projecting? It was the way she said it that made me think of a B-Movie storyline “She-Devil From the Funny Farm”! Watch as they seduce men for their personal gain. See them suck the life out of their un-suspecting victims as they sleep! No man is safe from their kiss!
One thing I did know; if there was evil, this bitch was it. I ran out of there the next day like my balls were on fire.
Act 4
Out of the Frying Pan & Into The Mold Pit:
I set off packing to my fathers. I was not happy about living at my dads. He sleeps 3 hours a day if he sleeps at all & has a bi-polar slant that can drop on a dime. I never had any physical issues visiting my dads. No allergies, or anything that would tip me off that there was mold in the house. I was ignorant of what having a virtual pond in the basement could do to people.
Within two weeks, I awoke writhing on the floor like a wounded python. I crawled two hours to the tub & smoked two joints just so I could crawl down the stairs. My ankles, knees, hands, neck, spine, elbows had al swollen up to the point of not even being able to see my ankles. This IS LYME DISEASE I proclaimed!! Damn, if I only had a camera with video in the funny farm.
I immediately called Spencerport Family Medicine. My regular doctor; Patrick McGrath was not available. The doctor that took his place just gave me pain meds. Even though I spoke of the bulls eye blotch, no blood work was taken. I was naïve enough to think that a place I had gone to since I was a teen would have my best interests in mind rather than covering up for St. Mary’s. They are one big conglomerate; joined right down to the insurance provider, lawyers, & other legal goons.
Not seeing any relief, I got a meeting with Dr. McGrath. He ran the standard test (60% failure rate.. See for yourself http://www.canlyme.com/labtests.html or Google; “Lyme Tests 60 % Failure Rate”), which convinced him I was not hit by Lyme & he refused to run any other tests as my insurance did not cover anything but the “Death Panel Option” level of “Care”.
I did my best to fight through the arthritis & set up things to transfer to Suny Plattsburgh for a fresh start 300 miles from my crazy family of drunken maniacs, tics & She Devils. I was convicted of Aggravated Harassment when my first Public Pretender failed to inform me of his leaving his job. If that was not enough, all my records proving Emmy a chronic cop caller & story teller were not given to J.B. Afoh Manin. I was basically given a clown to play dumb & plea to the D.A. which I refused. I was denied the request to postpone the trial by J.B. He refused to even ask my mother if she was drinking, nor did he allow me to ask Emmy question as I wanted to represent myself if this joker was going to botch my case.
Emmy put on a “Emmy Award” winning “poor victim” act, with full boo hoo, bullshit & conflicting answers. “He hit me.. Well, he might have. No, he missed me. She admitted that I was 15 feet away from her in one breath & then flip flopped six ways to Sunday. None of this seemed to matter. The cops needed a guilty verdict to get off of the harassment they shot my way, so they got it. I was given no fine, no punishment. It was a face saving conviction.
I would have smiled over a year in jail rather than pay for what was to come.
Hippie Mike often redundantly yet prophetically pointed out like a stoned Christian Yoda on Chronic: “I never tell anyone my birthday. Because to the wrong ear, your birthday can become your death day”. I thought he was just too ripped off the high test. Turns out the guy should read palms.
A bit late in the game & scrambling for an apartment where I was solo came down to one last open studio. It was either that or live on campus. I hated living on campus in the dorms & would not make my car payment plus the high rent charged for campus living. It was take the shoebox or don’t go to college.
The long drive my father & I took on the 23rd of August 2008 was movie script. We stopped to fire up a Jay and recalled the trip. My grandfather had a shoe store in a town along the way. I was so filled with the hope of a new life. A total transformation. Rebirth.
We got there way late due to my over bearing & stubborn pops demanding to skip the GPS & follow his “back roads” style. It added almost 4 hours to the trip. It was just after 12am on the 24th of August 2008 when I signed my life away on the rental contract. The bathroom was the size of a closet. The shower was a dime store chop job to say the least. It was caulked. I saw no mold at the time, so I just went with it. Rick asked me if I wanted to see another possibility. I should have jumped on it, yet it was all I could afford. The next wave of attack on my body was just warming up the death drums.
We moved in & hit the town. The ladies were dressed to kill & the cool air spoke of hope in the breeze. After eating a sausage with my dad we were like two kids at a strip bar. Totally in awe of the town.
Within weeks, I was feeling weaker. My mouth was dry no matter how much I drank. I was peeing more. My eyes were watering like crazy for no reason? Nose bleeds. Flue like issues. I was getting sick more. Was it just due to a mass population of international student bringing in foreign microbes? It had to be. I mean if it was lyme, I would be swelling up again (?)
I had this positive projection thing going. I was going to make tons of friends, excel in class & try to find a good woman. Walking down Brinkerhoff Street led my the soon to be Oraja Lounge. I introduced myself to James the owner & his red headed chick friend whom I thought was his girl. We instantly had a connection & became friends. Its all coming together, I thought. I’m braking my losing streak. Old Karma out, new in. I was fooling myself.
I made so many dear friends, I had a sore elbow waiving to them all in the halls. The classes were going well. I was honing skills that I enjoyed as a hobby. Getting paid would be even cooler.
The next seemingly un-connected symptom was gum loss. It was slow coming. No pain involved. I just needed a softer toothbrush I thought. This was 1-2 months into this Elm Street story. By the third month, I was crapping 4-7 times a day. It was more foul than normal. What on Earth was going on?
I just ignored these issues & went head strong into my studies, friendships & hobbies. Besides, how bad was Lyme anyway? My immune system was solid, or so I thought.
As my life was becoming Heaven in one aspect, the underlying Hell was whispering to me but I was metaphorically listening to my Ipod. Nothing would stop my new found Nirvana. Or so I thought. The gums kept dwindling. I pleaded for full blood work from the college hospital. I was never given the results. Once again I was brushed off, given pain pills, psych drugs, & more questions than answers.
All my scholastic & personal goals were coming true, but my body was failing. The doctors just went for the easy fix. Treat the pain, dope the brain. I started waking up with spiking pain in my kidneys?? How could all these weird symptoms be happening? Coming & going without notice.
Then in March, I woke up one night with my gums on fire. I ran crying to the bathroom mirror & was shocked to see my gums were eaten away. Bleeding puss was oozing out of every square inch of my gums. Plaque was literally forming as I watched. Scraping it away, it was forming back in minutes!! All I needed next was to hear Rod Sterling talking with the classic Twilight Zone song in the background. It HAD to be that dam root canal tooth. That was the mystery issue! Well, I had 2 out of three. If I could just convince ONE health care provider of it. The overnight rate of gum loss was massive. I’m guessing at 3-4 mm off yesterdays gums. I packed my gums with garlic & cried myself to sleep. I had to see if I had dental coverage with Fidelis.
It took hell & high water to find a basic dentist to even see me. No one wanted Fidelis. It was like calling to inform your soon to be date that you had leprosy & wondering why she never came to the meet spot for a beer. Richard Foreman saw me in May. His determination that I had cured myself of trench mouth. He refused to listen to my rotten #30 hypothesis as well as refusing me a referral to an oral surgeon, or even antibiotics. What threw him off was the super antibiotics I was given for a sinus infection I earned a week before. The pills knocked the infection down just in time to dupe Dr. Foreman.
I had bruises that would not heal. A simple tap, bump, or just by resting my hands on my hips would leave a bruise that stayed for months. This tooth has to go, I thought. It must be harboring the Lyme. Was this my miracle cure? Michelle & Delia of Student Support Services were calling non-stop across a 6+ hour distance just to find me someone to pull the tooth. No one took Fidelis. I was going to die with this thing rotting in my mouth.
It took me driving 14 hours round trip back to Rochester countless times just trying to find someone to save my life. Oral surgeons can pick what they want to make for the most part. They, like many of the higher educated feel entitled to the high life. It’s a profit driven business. No money? No high end insurance? I guess you find a dill & a pair of pliars, or die then.
At last, a receptionist told me to go into Strong / Eastman Dental ER & demand they pull the tooth. I even got a referral from Q-Dental. Anti-biotics, anti-fungals & a referral. I should be all set. Healing at last?
Strong ER is filled with students, & newly graduated dentists. They have this cookie cutter way of seeing you. It takes 4-5 visits just to get them to work on you. I had a wasted appointment for X-Rays when I had them on a flash drive. I had to demand to speak to a supervisor just to get them to realize how serious my issue was.
On the day of the last meeting before the operation, I was waiting to be seen as someone wheeled in a frail-sickly woman into the ER. I did a double take. No… It can’t be!? Emmy? The wicked bitch from the East? What are the odds?! I walked by her like Obi Wan Kenobi attempting not to be seen. She was in this dazed off, drugged up stare at the wall state. My God, it is Emmy! I was lucky she did not fall off the chair, scream “ouch, he’s hitting me! Don’t let him kill me!” We were 1 room away from each other. She was getting a biopsy. I was getting a tooth pulled. We BOTH had root canals from Cellura.
After Emmy’s cat died from a weird seizure out of nowhere, I warned her of the mold issue I faced in 1998 & she arrogantly mocked me just as she did with my ceiling tile hypothesis that was dead on 8 months late. Now she had mouth cancer & I had massive gum loss & two teeth that needed pulling for now. What was the duality? This had to have some higher meaning. What were the odds?
Three + hours of pulling, drilling, blood, & carnage. I stood strong like a solider & watched the blood & bones fly. Dr. Jiwani was a petit woman of possible Indian decent. It was a bear for her to pop the top off that #30. My roots went right to the main nerve. I thought she was going to pop my jaw off, & then finally a snapping sound. As she pulled the top off, rotten black, grey & green cotton came out like clowns out of a VW Rabbit. It smelled like a coffin opening. “Oh my god, what did they do to you?” was all she could say.
After 1.5 hours of drilling Dr. Jiwani was sweating. A student with more experience came by twice to see if she needed a break. By the third visit, she was ready for a break. “You don’t have to worry about bone density that’s for sure” made me smile. They both admired my grit. Advanced necrotization of my sub-ginvinial tissue were two key words I picked up on. They thought they were speaking in a code that most people could not decipher. I’m not most people. They also were miffed over the white sloughing of tissue in my mouth. I was in shock. That bastard Cellura went two for two on killing me with cotton. This HAD to be the end of this Hell!?!? It was not even close. Had Dr. Theire come in to see these issues, I might have had more of a clue myself as to the underlying issue of fungal infection. But where was I getting this exposure? I was clueless.
Around this time all my Youtube videos of the mold, doctors / dentists screwing me over, etc. had created a buzz in the mold click. Witzer Law soon peaked an interest in my case. Right up to the end they had me fooled into thinking they were helping me. I was working with Miriam, who answered to Brian Witzer. She told me to get samples, but not where or how. She failed to warn me of the company I had go in to take the samples were working for Rick Landry’s goons. Miriam even told me NOT to have air quality samples taken. Even when I paid for them, the firm kept my money & never took the air samples. Witzer law used Croft for a mold case yet waited till after I paid out the nose for bioptic samples, cloth testing, etc. that Crofts science does not hold up in court. So why did she knowingly let me waste my time, money & chips on a fraud?
It was one of the biggest let downs yet. Witzer was losing mold cases as my case went from a shoe in for them to a dirty tampon in need of a bio-hazard bag.
All the time we worked together, Miriam told me how good of a case I had. We were like a team. I was led to think we were friends. It ended up being an elaborate hoax that just sapped more hope & life out of me. Never trust a lawyer when mold involved. NEVER! They will screw you in your sleep if it means $20 more in their pocket on the insurance industries bill. Believe it. I know people who went through 7 years of court; turning down $150, 000 to hold out for few million (which never buys your health back, nor your sanity) that had a lawyer with a coke & tranny habit the insurance goons held over him to throw out the case. He played her for 7 years. Many lawyers do this. They make it look like they tried. Its all like professional wrestling & politics. They talk smack on screen & play golf after work.
So it took summer classes passing by and a wait from March to July just for a tooth extraction. I was stoked Woodstock was soon to be. August 14th baby. I met a 19 year old super hot hippy friend with tats on her legs on up to party with. We had sex for hours. But I could not climax, nor could I keep it going for more than an hour which was weird. I could go 1-3 hours no issues just a while back. I knew that things were serious. But the mystery was still an open case & hidden clues.
September 7th, 2009. A day that replays in my mind like an endless loop. I had prayed the night before for an end to the pain. I pleaded for truth or death. My mouth was burning in agony. My nose was bleeding. A morning shower revealed the clue. My shampoo bottle fell & the black mold hiding behind it revealed the killer behind the shower. If it was Norman Bates, I stood a chance. I had the grand idea to take samples & videograph the evidence. Little did I know that NY law stands behind mold being an allergy. The rules that “prove” a mold case are so ridiculous that you would not imagine what it takes to win a case.
I became so sick for the added exposure that I stumbled to CVPH Hospital like a delirious zombie. Mold videos & samples in hand I passed out in the front lobby only to come to briefly thanks to a cop jamming his finger in my eye while some nurse grated on my chest with her ring laden hands.
I came too once on the elevator ride up. I was very much out of it; the toxins were ravaging my body. They took my ID, treated me like some doped up junkie & rolled their eyes when I showed them the mold & the video CD. As soon as it was mentioned WHERE I got molded, I could tell that the 20 minute group huddle was to try to make this issue go away with Property Management of Plattsburgh smelling like a rose & me looking like an idiot. To top it off, they send in this decked out blond with the longest legs along with the shortest skirt or Earth to “Wonder Woman” me into the looney bin. I was basically told I was crazy to think mold hurts people. My gum issue was explained as: “you need to change your tooth brush every 90 days. I wanted to smash their heads on some concrete & shove some statchy up their anuses to turn them into believers. My pain, frustration & toxin load had me ready to snap. I yanked out the IV’s, called them all a bunch of idiots.
“I might be crazy, but your stupid & I can get counseling. You will always be stupid.” I walked back to the death box on Clinton Street in total shock. The hospital covering up for the biggest tax cow in P-Town? How could. This is when I really started to see how big this cover up was. It was the first big sign that the norm of the medical community capitulates to the almighty dollar as opposed to the health of the sick. Even an orderly knew toxic mold was harmful as I spoke to him before leaving that den of hyenas. I was wondering how Dr. gill got his degree (Cracker Jack Box, or an on-line college)?
(Insert Youtube Link: CVPH Hospital)
Wandering back in utter disbelief, I spent one last night in the death box. Little did I realize the far reaching aspects of this debilitating curse from Hell. I was learning behind the 8 ball & the room for error was measured in microns.
I had this blind faith that truth & justice would prevail. I had yet to even talk to another moldie.
My research began & has yet to stop since. Facebook had a few mold victims sites. I had met some good people on there. Looking back now, many of these people gave me bread crumbs rather than hit me over the head with the anvil of reality all at once. I wish I had gotten the full education instantly… To know what I know now might have changed MANY of my future actions.
Many of the moldies had varying concepts of advice. I had hope that someone had a cure, or a way to end this madness. Homeopathic concepts, avoidance, etc. I was told all my things were now toxic!? PLEASE; not my super computer!? Not my music!? Not my favorite outfit!!! I could not FEEL these things hurting me. No one told me about detoxing, the herximer effect, or how the hypersensitivity curse comes ONLY after total avoidance of approximately 3-6 months. No; for now I was fooling myself into thinking all would be well if I got out of the apartment. I actually felt ok after I got out. No pains to speak of. Some woman in her late 40’s that was in my class with Dr. Dann told me I could sleep on her floor. Three days of that & getting hit up in my sleep for money to support her crack habit was one more baseball bat to my groin. It was like the town was turning on me overnight & eating me alive.
I had an offer from a disability advocate for free safe housing. I prayed for it to work out. The woman in (INSERT COMPANY NAME HERE) charge assured me that anything regarding my last land lord would be ignored due to the circumstances. Three days later, she was a completed *360 from her previous demeanor. Rick Landry & his goon squad got to her. I have the audio of the conversation on tape.
(Insert Link)
Cheated & beaten at every turn with my wits questioning reality. How could such pure greed be able to get away with murder? I was only scratching the surface of the evil at work. The entire system in NY is designed to cover up for land owners while victims get black listed from safe housing for speaking up.
Complaints to the Health Department, CDC, Attorney General, Governor’s Office right on up to The White House all basically played “it’s not my problem. There is no law that makes any government agency test for mold in a building”. There is no proof mold harms people. How perfect the design of this new age genocide by turning a blind eye. Good ol Al Einstein said it best: “its not the evil of the world that scares me. Its those that know what to do yet do nothing.” What a sad truth Al. Say it ain’t so. Its as if mold victims are the new Jews of the world & they found a way around spending money on bleach & ammonia to knock down the population through hegemony. I new about greed, corruption & evil yet this was like walking through an alternate reality that changed my outlook on the human race forever. It makes me sick to be human. I regret being born, let alone being labeled with such a mass of self serving devil worshipping ass clowns as those that collectively worked towards making sure people like me die before we see justice. I recanted my “give peace a chance persona” for the Charles Bronson / Bruce Willis option from that time on. Knowing the full scope of this experience now, I would send a birthday card with a thank you to anyone suffering from this who decided to locate the owner of the property that ruined their life to go out like Joan Of Ark rather than pull their pants up & crawl in a hole as most people do. If you have 6 months to live or less why not go out a hero sending a message to these evil bastards rather than just die a victim? Many people get offended with my opinion on this topic. I hope you can set aside our differences in opinion & still get the essence of why I feel this way. You can’t imagine how I feel unless you’ve been through 2-3 years of this plus living outside like an animal for a year. Show me Rick Landry’s CEO & give me a month in a Homer Simpson suite with air tanks to go SAW 4 on that bastard to give him a crash course on mycotoxicosis. Rick deserves to be skinned alive & dipped in honey for the fire ant colony that I would bury him head sticking out next to. Hey, if he cried for water, I would gladly urinate in his mouth. I did one better. I sent him a voodoo doll that was created on Halloween! Go ahead & laugh, but half of projecting / manifesting anything at someone is getting into their head & rattling their psyche. Kind of like what happens when I see, smell, or know mold is around. I just go ape. Can you blame me?
Judges, lawyers, witnesses, labs, & even doctors have been bribed, intimidated & threatened into tossing a victory over to the insurance mafia that would rather kill than admit molds best kept secret. If your just the average person that either is not being affected, or your still in the dark about being sick from a biotoxin this might sound rash. Don’t give up on me yet. As much as I spit out a dash of venom at the opposition, this story needs to be told if only to convince one person how unjust, unacceptable & unreal this injustice is. It’s your choice on how to handle your own experience. Lay down & die, give justice a chance, or otherwise. But don’t let your voice go unheard. Don’t die in vain.
Ok, enough soap box vigilante for now. I’ve probably lost 35% of my audience by now, but that’s the price of freedom of speech. We might not agree on the solution. Just don’t hate me for my opinion & don’t let it lessen this story.
Act 5
From National Honors to Public Enema #2… How fast they turn on you.
I ended up thinking dropping my classes was the best idea. It’s a regrettable concept as I sit here typing & wondering how it got any worse than this from here on out. From October till now I have been a car or tent dweller. People just can’t imagine why. Explain it to them & watch them look at you like your from planet Uranus. My, how the corporate media had sheepified the masses. BAHHHH.. Indeed…..
Thinking dads house was safe, I stayed in the House of A Billion Mold Spores from September 09 till October 20th. I only started to realize what the house was doing to me by seeing what it was doing to my friends. I had a female friend that would come by & watch movies. After about an hour she would get a debilitating headache, faintness. She would apologize for feeling ill & leave like the cops were on the way. I started to see the light. She was like me.
Sujei was living in the basement of a friends house. She spoke of tooth loss, some gum issues, the flu like sickness & even admitted that the walls dripped water at times. Like myself & most others the truth was too much for her. She could be dying down there as I type. So many people are dying like this & just letting the doctors hand them corporate dope rather than expose the root cause. Sujei was just the beginning.
During this time, my friend Mark was back from Georgia I believe because he & his brother had a falling out. Mark got molded at his brothers house & was having similar issues. Since Mark moved in with Hippie Mike out of desperation he was getting sick too!? Mike fought the issue as if I was just projecting this whole nonsense & now Mark was mimicking my issues. Mark had some of my issues & many of his own. Mike was just playing the ignorant stoned hippy to the max. He finally admitted his dad’s house had a leak in the basement, but “how did we know that”!? as if we snuck down there with a bunch of mold detecting devices. Our bodies where the alarms. You just need to listen to the sound & make the connection yourself.
Emmy died in the middle of October 2009. To think of all the years of harassment, belittling, verbal & physical abuse I put up with only to snap over her usual sour words just made me furious. “you mean if I only stuck it out there another year & pulled that rotten tooth I might have a life worth living!?!?” It was like her final knife jab to my soul. She died in that moldy basement from possibly the root canaled teeth fostering the mold like a petry dish on roids. I grew to hate her for what she had done to me. The lie that got me the toxic tooth plus the lie that got me the tic bite mixed with getting tossed out of Grannys over her lies which thrust me to my fathers death pit, only to run 300 miles to another toxic hell hole. It was like a chain reaction that would not end from the instant I wrote the letter that projected this insanity.
My father & I celebrated her death by agreeing that she can’t mind fuck either of us anymore & her “evil” died with her. Now I’m almost sure that was another false hope along this Boulevard of Broken Dreams.
I was so revved up to get justice that I was over looking the obvious. From July to the middle of October living at my fathers was killing me. All my things were contaminated partly BEFORE the move to Plattsburgh. The summer I spent in 08 + the July to October stay was pounding my life force away as well as my gum line, organs & spirit. My gums were not healing right from the extractions. The anti fungals stopped ceasing the pain. I had no idea the toxin was separate from the infection. Realizing the toxin was causing the damage was tough to imagine at first. Trust me, I get it now. The next hurdle was realizing not only was the toxin eternal, but I had to make my cave man stoner father realize he needed to burn that house to the ground & sell the land before the house kills again. It was like convincing a monkey that bananas were bad. Actually, it was worse than that. He is the most thick skulled mycotoxinated mush brain I’ve met other than my aunt who is still slowly dying in her own mold hell & denying every symptom to be anything other than a common flu, cold or old age.
Of couse no one but Mark even believed me. My father obsessively tried to intimidate, mock & harass me into coming into the house for another dose of death like a dying man looking for someone to hold hand with on a cliff jump into a volcano. He would call me, wake me up early only to tell me “The heats on in the shower room. Hurry up & wash cus electric ain’t cheap.” OVER & OVER & OVER no matter how many times I explained to the idiot. Then he started pulling crap like placing items I needed in the alien mold slime basement from a sick B-Movie only to call me a pussy, faggot, bitch, faker, over reactor when I asked him if he was trying to kill me or get me mad enough to kill him for his mental case harassment. 2-7 times a day till around the time I left that jerk spent trying to drag me into that basement. I had dreams of bashing his brains in with a tire checker for what he was doing to me. My own father seeing me piss blood, lose teeth, gums, was going out of his way to expose me to more death. I’ve grown to hate him as much as Emmy. It’s as if I would have been smart to have blasted them both into the other world at the age of ten so as to avoid the brace that led to the root canal with magnified the power of the tic bite, thus complementing the mold that was always an underlying issue.
The abuse taken from them growing up was bad enough. It took me to 28 to realize they were the idiots, not me. And now they’ve managed to ruin my life out of spite, stupidity & ignorance.
The tent got ruined in late November. I ended up getting a bad chest cold & landed in the ER again only to have to deal with another mold incompetent who at first refused me medications only to give me (as Strong did when Sujei took me to the ER over my gum issues) a sugar based, non-systemic anti fungal that just made things worse. My aunt Liz took me in for a few weeks. I felt better up till the third week. That’s when I realized her house was a death mold farm as well.
Liz is the kind of person that initially thought oil replaced & checked itself. She ruined a new car once by running it put of oil. She does not make enough to afford it when a house breaks down. She will also take any big issue, put her head in the sand & thumb up her fart hole only to displace the issue by obsessing over something as stupid as two forks in the sick that need to be washed before sundown. So the mold just kept brewing even though she knew she had a leak. She hired some idiots with a three hour mold course from a mold testing place only to hear what she wanted, which was: “Its not the black mold stuff, so don’t worry!” Over 100,000 species of mold & this joker convinces my aunt not to sweat it. To this day she brings up that damn report. Slapping people into reality should be admired under certain circumstances. Sooner or later she will end up like me or worse. Basically, every house that was once a sanctuary became my sure death. I could net seem to escape this nightmare. No place was home. Even my cherrie Honda Element; my pride & joy was making me sick from the mold filled HEPA filter that got over run with spores from me running in & put of toxic hell holes unknowingly over the years.
If all this was not enough, I was hoping to switch my disability case over to Rochester from the agency (Sullivan & Associated) so as to not get looted out of $5,000 + because in Rochester you get free advocation for SSI/SSD. In Plattsburgh you get robbed. All the paperwork for a change of venue / change of representative was filed & ignored by the court in P-Town. The case went on without me & SSA paid mark Sullivan with my money even after I relieved him from his duties. All he did was mail paperwork that I gave him.
I tried to find something I could sleep in. Once the disability kicked in I bought a 2010 Ford Transit on December 24th, 2009. What a mistake. First off, the dealer sent me off with 20-25 pounds of air when I needed 40-45. I almost died driving home from my uncles home on Christmas over this issue. Then the knobs fell off of it. Next was the bumper. It was snapped in like a Leggo. I spent the next 1,000 miles & three weeks trying to pawn it off at a loss.
I hate thr new Honda Elements. They went from a cool looking black & gray water / spill proof seats to God ugly baby food show all dirt brown seats that have those stupid tiny arm rests & air bag seats. I hate air bag as it is. Air bag seat just sounds like over kill. You can’t even put seat covers on it. The rear Honda seat covers don’t even fit it. They removed the moon roof. They even went show all dirt baby food brown on the interior plastic. The new stability system forces you to shut it off every time you start the car. It is dangerous when carrying a cargo box while using this feature. They even switched the headlight on switch to three clicks rather than the old two which threw me off till I killed the battery leaving the running light on by mistake. Everything liked was gone. Even the lower change pocket. I should have just waited to sell my 05. I ended up tying a noose around my neck. Why would fate do this to me? I almost had my 05 paid for! I loved it & it was making me sick. I began to understand the high suicide rate of mold victims. Make this end or let me die became a nightly mantra as I cried myself to sleep in pain as I do to this day. The only thing keeping me going right now is finishing this story.
I was also in constant contact with Spring (mold victim of a moldy job & later to be proven a moldy house like my dads). A woman by the name of Stacey offered to let us stay on her 30 + acres to seek treatment.as it turns out she was trying to sucker us into renting a moldy trailer. Spring backed out of the trip & I cut my ties with her. For all I know she died in that house.
Stacey strung me along. Filled me full of lies & hope only to back out of her offer & try to make it look like I backed out. I called the doctor she claimed would hand me any meds I needed after only one visit only to be told that Stacey was a liar, as the receptionist put it.
I was forced to go see Shoemaker. I was told by Erik Johnson of the book “Mold Warriors” I was better off just skipping the Shoemaker autograph session for a nice Yucca tree in the desert. He was half right.
I got to see how self centered, uncaring & inhumane most of my family was towards me & my innless that seemingly no one had the pee brains to grasp whatsoever. It was like something out of the bible. Jobe + mold. Just add water.
As I was nearing the time to set up a date to see Shoe, I needed to borrow a grand from y aunt just to take off. She flip flopped between giving it to me & holding it over my head even though I explained that I will not get an appointment unless I paid the ridiculous (being indigent) records review fee (in which no effort was made by their office to obtain the records doctors were refusing me. I began to learn that dentists & doctors like to dodge moldies in regards to medical records for fear of malpractice or possibly being forced to testify), not to mention a donation to his research fund. $250 that insurance won’t cover.
The drive was one of hope. My hope was to prove the apartment just about killed me. It was bad enough St. Mary’s got away with covering up the Lyme bite. Even worse that a toxic tooth caught early could have saved my life & gotten me justice. I had to prove what Apartment #10 did to me.
I spent the night in a Walmart parking lot & arrived early to see Dr. Shoemaker. It was strange that he made a point to NOT have me take a nasal swab staph test even though his book demands it. The interview was more like me being on trial for raping baby apes & working for Osama than a quest for healing me.
Such comments as “Aren’t you a little old to be in school?” “Oh, it sounds like your riding the poor victim card!” “There is no medical proof mold exposure erodes gums.” He was sounding like the other 30 jerk offs in lab coats before I could blink. I was shocked at his half assed lazy attempt to figure out what was wrong with me by ignoring Dr. Croft & Dr. Pollen’s bioptic samples that I managed to muscle Strong Hospital into extracting after I wrote a letter to the CEO of the hospital in complaint to how the head of their Infectious Disease Unit rolled her eyes & tried to talk to me like a 5 year old with Downs Syndrome for even thinking mold could kill. She refused to even take any blood work from me. Her secretary knew more about mold than this doctor was admitting to. And after all that work Shoe went on a Dr. Croft is incompetent speal. His work does not hold up in court after one investigation 20 years + ago. Shoe was convinced it was Lyme, not mold & he discounted the rotten root canal 20 years brewing in my mouth to boot. He dismissed the mold samples. Refused to watch the videos of the shower mold. He ignored my pleas to personally request other medical records that many dentist & doctors were refusing to provide me personally. He even wanted more money if he was to prove a case. Some advocate for the sick indeed. It was as if I was in my own Wizard of Oz meets Into the Wild with a bit of Nightmare on Elm Street mixed in with a dash of Rod Sterling. I just could not win. Some more useless CSM & a superantibiotic were all I got. No LDN. No evidence supporting the damage from Clinton Street. I was devastated. I cried on & off through the rest of the trip to Slab City. Meeting Leonard Night from the film “Into The Wild”. Doctors, lawyers, dentists all failed me. Hopefully Leonard’s God had some answers. If only I listened. If only I kept faith.
I met some great people along the way. My car signs: Toxic Mold Silently Kills Over 500,000 people a year! Don’t Be The Next Victim. http://www.moldvideos.blogspot.com/ !” caught the attention of many. I’ve talked to so many people who had mold in the basement of their house & health issues that it was scary. Even some saleswoman who called me during this time wanted to know why her husband was so sick. Was it the mold I thought? You bet. Everywhere I go, more people pop out like me. Most want to avoid the truth & not the mold.
The long hard road to Slab City left me hungry & tired. I ended up in a small supermarket in Niland after 9pm. A gentleman by the name of Alan Hill introduced himself. He could tell I was not from the area. I spoke of my ills & reason for coming. He convinced me that night time was not a good time to roll into the Slabs. There were good people & cons. He invited me to cook my steak & have tacos with he, his wife & his cousin. It was a wonderful time. He gave me two special stones for good luck. I had one of them wrapped by a friend named Chance at the Slabs.
The next morning was coffee, a joint & the hope of a new life. Had I only been able to get past the burning smell of trash without being sickened.
I made quick friends with Texas Tom, & his side kick John. Old Tom lost his wife to cancer & now he had it. He helped look after me & show me the ropes. A young black boy of 16 became like my little brother. He needed a brotherly figure that was not a bad influence. He was a good kid but he just would follow me around from sunrise to sunset when I needed alone time due to my illness.
There is a coffee club called The Oasis that ended up being a neat place to hang out, smoke medical grade grass & get shade. I’ll try to cover some of the character during this part of the tale as far as their descriptions more in depth at the end of the story.
Moth: Drunken ADD hippie jester & frequent coffee shop hound. Moth hovers over the grass. He’s a hemp GPS tracker. Funny at times & annoying AT OTHERS.
“Michigan”: Nickname for Moths sidekick. As drunk as moth. There like Laurel & Hardy on hemp. Michigan keeps moth in line and has been known to punch him out when needed.
Texan Tom: A tough as nails cancer victim who’s wife just died of it. Tom looks like Uncle Jesse & he’s a shot gun toting Texan with a heart of gold.
John: Friend of Tom’s. Another good old true grit cowboy & displaced worker. John cuts wood, drink Thunderbird & puffs down. A good egg.
“Lil Brother”: Tom’s “adopted” grandson. Looks up to the Supertramp as a brother figure & follows him like a shadow. Street wise yet good at heart.
Hiere: A rocking hippy musician that dug my lyrics. We were going to write music but I feel I left prematurely.
Ron: A victim of abusive parents, Ron’s moods swing & he is a loner.
What I remember most is the big sun rising up to scorch out in your tracks. I found out bandanas under hats work well for ear protection. I was eating right but it was tough being around so many people. Many of them were great people. Wounded animals need their space.
I’d wake up; wash up, eat & get my meds come sunrise so I could make my way to the Oasis for coffee. There was this foxy volunteer with a sexy Russian accent that I loved to flirt with. The usual crew of 8-10 long timers were usually cracking jokes & smoking dope. It was a fun time. Many deep conversations had. Many brothers & sisters were made.
I enjoyed the concerts & wish I could have stayed there. The film could not do justice to the real experience of the Slabs. It is a special place.
I remember Lil Brother getting me all ripped one night & he had me convinced that Leonard smoked chronic off the bong & we had to pop by his crib to catch him a buzz. We wlked up the back of Salvation Mountain & rolled a joint for Leonard & made our way down to his truck house. When Lil Brother knocked on the door Leonard came out & said he was tired but we could hang out by the table. LB offered the J to Leonard, & he said “not tonight, It’s been a long day”. I was tying my shoe when a jacked up Toyota truck rolled up on me with his hi beams. He was Leonard’s security, helper around the mountain, so to speak. He was furious that we were possibly robbers, or worse. The kid duped me into thinking it was ok to be out there & I apologized to (I wish I Remembered names) ?Bob?.... As it turns out ?Bob? was from Rochester, NY (my home town) & he knew Mark Marianetti (a personal friend) when he worked to help the homeless in Rochester. Small world for sure. Who could have scripted this?
Getting to know Leonard was a special experience. He is a higher spiritual being than most can even pick up on. He was over my head & I thought I had some Mr. Mojo Risin’ at one time.
I was just scared, restless & bitter. I lost faith. Believing even Leonard was an obstacle soon to be realized. Time & time again Leonard warned me of the ills of toxic paint. Shouting like a preacher at a sermon “I never use TOXIC PAINT!!! It’s of the Devil!! Resist it! I only use non-toxic paint & so should you!” I was like …..RECORD SCRATCH……. Where is he going with this? Why is he telling me this? I had to convince Leonard that my car signs were concerning toxic mold & not paint. He needed Bob to help him understand that I was educating people about the evils of toxic mold. He then warmed up to me & we became good friends. I was prayed for many times.
“Lord Jesus, damn this mold back to hell & take the wicked that foster it with the in the name of Christ Almighty & bless this child.. Make him well. Heal his heat Lord. I beg!!!”
It was fun meeting all the people that pass through as tourists. I learned a great deal about this living legend just hanging out.
I was feeling a bit better, but growing restless. Missing Plattsburgh, my friends & loved ones. It was kind of scary being alone in a crowd. I loved the people there. It sucks that the pollution & wind deterred me from staying. I was also resisting the heat index. My ability to adjust to high heat, cold or quick changes in temperature have been bothersome.
I was so afraid of mold & toxins that I was too chicken to dip in the hot spring. This curse had taken the kid out of me. I was afraid to dip in some water, by God. I needed to just live & let live.
I kept up with people on Facebook. CB as I’ll call her was an elderly van dweller who got sick from mold & has been living in a van ever since. She invited me to Nevada on BLM land with her group the Van Dwellers. It sounded like a change of pace. I was so bored, restless & edgy that it seemed like a plan. I could always come back to Niland, I thought.
Texas Tom’s take on it was: “If you got running with her & that crowd you’ll lose everything. Don’t go son.” I scoffed at the thought. How could he know that? It seemed too over reactive of a response. After a month at the Slabs, I was ready for a new adventure.
As I turned right off the main road to the Slabs, something urged me…. That little voice we have…. The one that told me to run when Jerry Cellura was trying to kill me with the joy of cotton. It told me to PULL OVER & CALL NICOLE… The Hawaiian, Italian I fell head over heels for in 2001 while attending acting classes at Monroe Community College. I’ll never forget my first glance of her in the hall. That smile… Her spirit; it shown in her eyes. Loyal, giving, I saw it all in one glance. She caught me checking her out & said hi.
The next big hint to grow some gonads & ask her out came when she ended up in my acting class with my friend & director, Dave Smith. There were quite a bunch of characters in that class. My first skit was with some weird gay guy & it blew. I then did my own skit; reenacting me waking up in my underwear on a cold day up on the 5th floor or Grannies house. My wild & crazy black friend Rob went apeshit for the balls I had to do it & Nicole looked over & smiled. When I really like a woman, I seem to go too slow. She asked ME to do a scene with her?!? I was speechless that such a beautiful & gifted creature would ask me first. I was to chicken to ask her, that was for sure. We picked “A Streetcar Named Desire”… It was the scene with Blanche teasing Brandow’s character; the part where Marlin calls her on it & gets rough.
I can remember just about every time we were supposed to hang out, her dad would put here to work… We finally got to watch the movie & see the scene. Our chemistry was at a high level. If I only knew she was not serious with some guy she was dating that worked at a gas station, I would have pursued her more. I was afraid of the possible let down, like past experience. Nicole invited me out dancing, but I was not into dancing at the time & I could not figure out if she was asking me out or trying to set me up which was the usual case. I should have taken the hint.
I got discouraged over the many times our meet ups ended up not connecting. Things came up; she’d miss getting to my rehearsal after I waited around 45 + minutes. Her father would schedule her to work at his cleaning business at the last second. Part of me thought she was blowing me off.
I tried out for the play “Room Service” & landed the part of Dr. Glass; a German doctor that was hired by the hotel to oust a group of scam artists who were living at the hotel for free. It was a wonderful experience to work with Rob, Chris Hogan (a career student at 39) & many of the others in the play. Nicole came down to the lower dressing rooms to hang out. I was not fully aware that she was there to see me. Out of all those people? I was clueless.
I like to run after a show. Coming down from the high of being on stage is tough for me. Nicole stayed after the show & was hoping to see me. Bad timing has been my forte in this life. As the semester wore down, As Nicole & I walked around campus, I gave her a flower I’d picked. She spoke of visiting Hawaii for the summer & promised to be back for school in the fall. I was devastated. I had wanted so bad to tell her how I felt; yet would it matter? I’d probably get let down like all those times before. Deep down I was heartbroken. Hoping that she would in fact be back.
I ended up going over to Emmy’s trailer one night soon after only to get tweaked into dumping her vodka out which got me another false charge over her love of booze. I was hiding out from the cops at my dads house till things cooled. I did not return to college. Neither did Nicole. No word from her for six months & then an email. It was a long letter. She spoke of how wonderful this man she was friends with for years was. He told her everything she wanted to hear. He was very talented, funny, smart. “He reminds me much of you” was her wording. She married him at 19. I just about hit the floor. Devastated does not even describe it. I would have gotten down on one knee before she left & begged her to stay or take me with her. So much for second thought afterwards.
I never really connected with a woman like that. She was so easygoing. One in a million.
(Insert “10 Years In The Wind Lyrics”)
Here I was again. Older, wiser. I made the call. She answered. She was getting ready to move back to Hawaii soon. Her husband went back first to find work. He was drummer, & apparently she had been supporting him most of the marriage as he would not hold down a job. It seemed like more than that, but I left it alone. We planned on hanging out Saturday. I was going to leave the Slabs, hit Pahrump for a few days & then make the drive Friday for Orange County.
I planned to have a weekend for the movie script. And it was that & much more.
Act 6:
CB’ OCD, Made Me LSD 25
The Weekend To Remember
Set Up For A Let Down.
Vulcan Toxinal Mind Fuck.
To Hell With Salvation. It’s All A Lie!
Here Comes MY 19th Nervous Breakdown.
Toxic Paint Strikes Back
This chapter is a tall order. The further I get, the more this hurts like a scab that’s being ripped slowly.
It was a very scenic & windy ride to Parhump, Nevada. I loved the mountain view. Emailing Back & forth, CB & I met at the Walmart. We exchanged hugs & headed up Basin Ave. The Vandwellers were a mixed group. Some were sick & needed to heal. Others were recovering from cancer & needed open space. Others needed solitude. I was the extreme case of all of the above & was fooling myself if I thought I could handle the constant load of being in a group think tank. I had been alone in my car or tent for 6-7 months now. I had a routine that I was on. I needed the privacy I had on my dads 3 acres as the Slabs was too crowded for me. People sticking their nose in what I do, how I do it just irks me.
CB was the prime well meaning offender. The others mostly did their own thing & offered advice if I asked. Much of this was a good experience. But dealing with people so close in proximity when your this sick is a set up for disaster. People can’t be expected to understand this illness. They can’t imagine 2-3 years of weapons grade toxin does permanent damage & the extent of that damage is uncompreheseable. And by now I’ve heard every do gooder show their love & ignorance so well meaning that any new faces with the same lines drove me crackers.
So when CB started obsessively picking out things she thought I needed to do; like “Organize my already organized SUV”, it was more like do things like she would do them as if she was an authority on my life & what worked best for me. Little did she know I had reasons for having it set up like that which trying to explain it to her in a 45 minute lecture was more energy than I had with my frayed nerves. She kept nagging me 3-5 times a day & my walking away from her every time to drive to town to cool off never sunk into her head that she was sticking her nose & opinions where they did not belong. She seemed used to getting her way like my Grams & egg donor = just hound him, hop on his back like a monkey till he either leaves or gives in just to shut you up. By the 5th day of this I took some things out EVEN though my heart said leave now! Drive to the SLABS NOW! Heal up, go back to NY in May & finish those two semesters. She’s only going to get worse.
Ignoring my inner voice, I took some things out just to get her off my ass. Even though in three days I was going to the Slabs for a night which got me closer to Orange County. Even though it was completely dysfunctional & a waste of time to un pack just to re pack for no other reason than to get someone off your case. Even though I wanted the option to have my things with me so if I wanted to go on another trip I did not have to come back to Pahrump just to appease CB’s compulsion to micromanage.
After she got her way, the next thing was to obsess over wind direction. See, the tent she set up to bully me into unloading my car was getting wind whipped. CB decided my next round of orders was to move my SUV 6 directions to Sunday. The wind was blowing 360 degrees!!! She was nuts & driving me batty. I just wanted to spazz out & peel out, yet I held it in to be friends & keep the peace but she was really bothering me. I was too sick to deal with much more that eating sleeping & keeping clean.
Bob, Brian, Old Brian, Wayne, Katie & I had a wonderful meal the night before I left. I must pause to correct the average thought which might lean you to think this was a bad time. I was having a great time in many aspect meeting such great people. A wounded animal I was & many could not grasp the depth of it. I was seen with no limitations in a sense other than the mold.
Walking with Bob & Brian was cool. The both had cool dogs. Brian’s dog was a turtle assassin. He would flip them over & leave em’ for dead. It was kind of funny. Stella attacked 2-3 turtles in a day. Some were even attacked three times in a day!
I’ll run down the character list after this next beat in the storyline.
Act 6, Beat Two: The Weekend To Remember
It was another beautiful drive to the Slabs. I arrived by nightfall. Lil Brother popped out of thin air to say hi, just as some bully jumped out to wrestle him. It was like the desert version of the Christmas Story scene where the two bullies picked on the kids in the snow. This goons little brother was egging him on. “go get em Jed! Give him the sweaty arm pit! Make him lick your pit! You little pit lickin’ nigger! Lick that stink!!! Part of me wanted to stay out of it. The other part wanted no horseshit by my sleeping pod. I jumped out of the Element as Texas Tom slipped out of his trailer with a loaded shot gun ready to rock.
“Listen here you fat fucker & you little piss ant. I want you the fuck off my slab; the fuck away from my grandson & if I ever catch you stealing shit again. Don’t even give me your shit about denying it. You stole my sleeping bags you little pricks. I would have given them to you if you’d asked. Either way, if you want some of this then come get it. If not, kick rocks & never let me catch you.”
I chimed in: “Don’t shoot me Tom, it’s PJ.” I shook his hand & hugged him. “I’ve got a machete in my car & the next time this shit goes down I’m chopping heads! I’m half dead; certified crazy & the next motherfucker that comes by looking for trouble is going to get a close shave!”
They took off running like two rabbits in a hound hunt. “Where you boys going; we ain’t done talkin’ to you!?” Yelled Tom. A big laugh & a reunion of sorts. It was good to be home.
A good nights sleep followed by an early rise. Coffee, a few puffs, a few laughs at the Oasis & I was off the have the time of my life. Another road warrior drive led me to Orange County & Walmart. I found out not all Walmarts are the same. No parking over night in Orange County. This was going to be an issue because I was dead tired from the ride. I called Nicole to apologize for the issue. She was out on the town with friends, & wanted an excuse to leave anyways. It took her longer than expected. When she finally arrived I was shocked that she was prettier than before. How could it be? I was eager to get back to the place she was staying at; her husbands ex bandmates family had a split house setup. It was beautiful. I kicked back, did a few shots of Tequila & tried to rest. Nicole went to shower in the other section of the house. When she came back, it was my turn to shower. I needed it. Baby wipe baths work, but as much as showers scare me now, I miss a hot shower.
We hung out & talked for hours. It was late by the time we went to bed. I could not sleep. The booze kept me up as did the oddity of sleeping in a house again. It was like I was keeping post for when the mold colony tried to hop out & fuck me one more time. Call me crazy till you live it.
By the time I dragged myself out of bed Nicole was making breakfast. She was such a home maker. She asked me how I slept & I told her not so good. The booze kept me up as well as the shock of sleeping indoors after so long. She shown a look as if she was thinking: “Oh my God Pete, what has this done to you?” More than you could imagine… More than anyone could know.
We kinda lolly gagged. Got coffee & hit the grocery store. I felt domesticated overnight all over again. It was like we were right on with this plan on the fly. Fruit, scallops, shrimp, spinach, mixed veggies. We thought alike. I thought to myself: “This is so effortless. I could have been in bliss the past 9 years with this woman. What a cool chick.” We were off. Rocking to a set list of The Who, Zep, Sabbbath, G ‘n’ R, Some of my songs, Journey, Ozzy, VR, just scratched the surface of the 20+ songs I sang to her dead on with all my spirit. I sang to her like no other. I never in my life had sung like that to anyone. The ride to Niland was a rocking tour de force of good music, great vibes & unconditional love. I had fallen smack dab in love of the moment.
Arriving at some hot spa, we decided to skip it for the Slabs. The next stop was the Salton Sea. One of the most polluted seas I’ve seen. The water is green; dead fish wash up on the shore to tell a tale of greeds grip on the ecosystem. I was getting a reaction to the air.
We took some great pics & bounced off to Slab City. Parking in my old spot to see Li Brother running up was a cool feeling. I introduced them. LB was grinning at her beauty. We looked at each other & agreed without words on her spirit & beauty. Guys do that from time to time.
We made our way to Leonard’s Mountain. Hopping & skipping like kids, we held hands long enough to help her over some of the terrain. Snapping pics & taking video all the way.
“All ya need is love, love. Love is all you need.” She sang as we skipped down the yellow brick road.
I was eager to introduce my two friends to each other for the first time. As soon as Leonard saw me, he stopped his whole tour. He apologized, but he just had to speak with the Toxic Mold Supertramp, as he put it.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come back so I could talk to you.” We had a heart to heart of proportions that blew the doors off his role in the movie. Nicole was speechless. I had to motion her to record the rest of it on this windy day.
We got our own special tour. Most of the pics are on my facebook. We had our fun, but it was a longer ride than expected. Heading out I had forgotten to fill up. Having skipped the Slabs hot spring due to nudity before heading out, we pulled over to the road that the spa was on because I realized I was running on E. Nicole called triple A for a 7 gallon fill up. I told her we needed to eat. She was kind of wonder how I was going to pull it off. A tailgate chef I was. It was one of the best spreads I’ve cooked. “I’d make someone a good little bitch if I was healthy.”, was returned with “I’d snag you up in a heartbeat if I was single.”; shot back with me saying “keep my resume on file.”
The driver came & we had some good conversation. He thought we were married & made a great pair. “Don’t I wish. But I missed the bus ten years ago.” I joked.
Wore out from the day, I slept in the drive way. Her friends mother was back home so there would be no sleeping in the house for me which meant good sleep. I got up & the lady of the house invited me in. Another great breakfast, & as I was ready to leave she asked me to stay for
church. I gave it a shot.
I came to the realization of why coyotes howl before dawn. They woke up cold & alone.
http://www.moldvideos.blogspot.com
http://ricklandrymoldyslumlord.blogspot.com
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tavp9T49eAI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6rmmZHFgWKs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5gvfGuo7Ffw
http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=toxic+mold+supertramp+1&aq=f
Introduction:
The hardest part of writing this all down onto page for me is where to begin (?)…. Being a victim of Lyme, Toxic Mold / Bacteria not to mention having been lied & tricked into a root canal from hell in which the packing cotton was left in both the temporary & permanent filling EVEN after the temporary packing cotton got infected & nearly killed me the first round of Jerry Cellura DDS put the first wack on me.
The next hardest thing is reliving it in my mind & soul. It’s been a roller coaster trip to hell for going on 4 years now.
Then, as if the above listed hurdles are not enough to make me go 19th Nervous Breakdown….. Well, who in the world would want to believe this to be real? Who could fathom doctors & dentists alike bowing to the almighty insurance companies when it comes to covering up the truth about mold, lyme & many other ailments derived from biotoxin exposure. It goes as deep as the pockets behind funding medical students & dentists alike. Big Pharm can’t see profit in $200 of CSM, total avoidance & nutritional methods of therapy. They have yet to make a magic pill because proving so would turn this Urban Legend into reality & then liability from the means of exposure comes into play & many times they who pay the highest taxes & get the iron clad insurance goons would be forced to fork over billions in damages world wide from el cheapo construction that could have been done right the safe way.
Once you go broke proving your illness, you’re an outcast from society in more ways than you could imagine. If getting mocked, the eye roll, complete patronization from doctors, dentists, immunologists, etc. Is that not enough to make you want to slap the taste out of some ones mouth? Then feel free to enlighten me. People judge you for living outside when all I want is a safe apartment in Plattsbugh, or Vermont; possibly California. I could explain to the sheep people of the world all day in an attempt to explain to them why I live like this yet it’s science over the average I.Q. & people never want to think of how mind blowing the parameters of biotoxin illnesses grip on your life once it’s sucked you in with the help of the global propaganda set in place to de-educate the populous into ignoring the signs & the greed behind the perfect crime. It’s like killing without a human physically doing it. Reminiscent of the Darth Vader scene where he uses the Force to choke out an under performing general by merely thinking of it.
Our world leaders, elected officials, greedy elite have all set the pawns in place so cleverly that it’s tough to hammer down on one thing so change might arrive. It’s such a social & legal boondoggle to navigate possible solutions that your stuck in the mud from day one. Almost no one is going to try to help you. Mold victims get so wrapped up in their own nightmare that dealing with people, let alone rationally helping is nearly impossible on an economic & physical level.
The CDC, ADA, Health Department, ALL look the other way as mothers, babies, college students die & suffer while living….. All out of greed, fear & the almighty dollar.
I’m an example of a life ruined by mold, a root canal, a bug bite carrying lyme & a system that
covers up for hospitals, doctors, dentists, land owners & insurance mobsters. You can believe what I say, or smirk like Dr. Gill of CVPH Hospital mocked me; my mold samples & refused to watch the video of the moldy shower when I passed out in their lobby & briefly came to with a cop jabbing his finger in my eye & a nurse using her knuckle laden hands to grate on my chest like a cheese grater.
You can not discount the hairline fracture down my #30 that was soaking in microbes by the billions that over four dentists including Richard Foreman DDS fought me on pulling, nor did they even seem alarmed Richard told me I had cured my own trench mouth; refused to consider my #30 theory. It took me calling a 14 hour round trip radius; 20 phone calls a day by myself & advocates for months to find a dental surgeon that took Fidelis Medicaid. And going through dentist to dentist spanning multiple 600 mile trip desperation trips back to Eastman Dental caused a deadly tooth to continue to rot in my mouth from March to July 09 even though I had referrals, etc. Five months to find someone to save my life. Each time getting the door slammed in my face. All as my body suffered more.
Doctors refusing to run further lyme tests after the most error ridden one that my death option Medicaid covered proved nothing. The doctors at Spencerport Family Medicine are tied with the Unity Health Umbrella of silence due to their connection with St. Mary’s Hospital in Rochester, NY. They seemed quick to label me with early onset arthritis due to the swelling in my joints & just put me on pain killers even though my father & others saw the BULLS EYE BLOTCH on my right temple when my drunken mother decided to send the cops over to R-Wing me for writing her a pissy note that got me a one way ticket to lyme. I dumped her beer out for jerking my chain on the drunk & got another nail on my coffin as if the root canal she duped me into was not enough to earn her a trip to purgatory as soon as I felt the poison enter my veins on that nightmare night around April 22, 2008; waking up from a dead sleep with brain shattering pain shooting through my head.
Some might snub their noses at my linking Karma into the mix as this story unfolds. Others still will surely roll their eyes at the possible spiritual elements, not to forget the corporate / super rich connection that might come off too scary to swallow.
I wish this was all a hoax, delusion or figment of someone else’s imagination folks, but what your about to read is truth.
I’ve created films; acted; sang; wrote music; was an avid photographer; videographer & editor; computer geek and free spirit. I try to write a story like your seeing it unfold. This might be a bit long winded for some. It’s my first book, so please have an open mind.
Some of what your about to read has situations that might shock, or offend & language that might not meet Sesame Street. I’m from NY. We tell it like it is. See the truth & movie script behind my story. If I feel taking my word for it is not enough for you; I’ve added links to factual data relation to all scientific topics covered. Many people get turned off by the medical jargon, bio-hazard protocol procedures, basic sub-molecular biology; hence the look I often get when people grill me 20 ?’s for living in a tent. I could have been a doctor, but I lacked the patience.
I’m not claiming to be a saint, perfect, or a mold doctor. I’m just someone who had bad luck multiply from a chain reaction that started 20 some years back in a dentists office & culminated with the ruining of a life of a man with skill & ability that saw what he could have been if he had started the trip to Plattsburgh in his early 20’s & was able to talk an oral surgeon in 2001 into pulling the “Dirty #30”, rather than keep trying to get hired by Kodak (a family employer) in an building not being sold off to Chinese investors. Say that three times fast.
My parents were middle class victims of drunk & or crazy parents. So you can see I was at a dis-advantage at birth. Miles long & eons of drinking, domestic violence to name a few topics were the norms on both sides. If you were me & you pissed my father off a good expectation was getting kicked in the kidneys till you pissed yourself & “Mommy Dearest” told him to stop because I might call CPS in time for them to record the bruises; or for a fun change of pace there was always the throat choke – slam bang my head off the ceiling & drop me down on the carpet spikes barefoot & splat me across the room favorite of his. I think my only prized moment was when I pissed in his mouth for tickling me while I was in diapers. Other than that; 6’2 / 195 lbs of roid like bi-polar rage could scare you into jumping off a cliff, let alone go off to Jerry Cellura’s for a deadly operation.
People see health care providers as all knowing. We rarely question their advice. Our hope is they want to help us, yet in many cases their treatment protocols are profit driven.
Root canals are one of these such procedures. For over 60 years, the ADA has knowingly hid the negative effects of root canals. A dead tooth does not uptake blood which carries microbe fighters that control a tooth’s health. As the calcium diminishes coupled with the fact that microbes can pass freely into said tooth & into ones bloodstream as hidden as Bin Laden has ever been. This deadly tooth now seeps poison into an unsuspecting patient / victim till the tooth is removed. Root Canal Cover-Up Exposed as cited by Dr. Karen Shrimplin states:
http://www.notdoctors.com/crci3.html
“ Dr. Weston Price, a renowned dental research specialist, observed many patients with crippling degenerative diseases who did not respond to treatment. He suspected infected root canal teeth to be the culprit. He developed a testing method that revealed the presence of infection in a tooth. By implanting a root filled tooth from a patient under the skin of a laboratory animal, usually a rabbit, he found that in almost every case the animal would develop the same disease as the patient, lose weight, and often times would die. Later, Dr. Price found he could embed small pieces of the root instead of the entire tooth, or pulverize the teeth and inject the powder and cause the same results. Eventually, he found he could culture the bacteria found in a root filled tooth and inject the toxins from it into the laboratory animal and reproduce the disease from the toxins alone. It is important to note that when he implanted sterile objects or uninfected natural teeth, such as those removed for orthodontic purposes, no adverse health effects resulted.
Dr. Price found many types of degenerative diseases, including endocarditis, other heart diseases, kidney and bladder diseases, arthritis, rheumatism, mental diseases, lung problems and other degenerative diseases could be transferred to laboratory animals. He also found that a large percentage of patients recovered from their illnesses after the root filled teeth were extracted.
The primary bacteria in root canals found by Dr. Price included streptococcus, staphylococcus, and spirochetes. He found 90 percent of bacteria in the teeth that produced the patients' acute diseases in the animals were streptococcus, and 65.5 percent of the time they belonged to the fecalis family. Bacteriologists today have confirmed that Price's discoveries were accurate.”
If this is all true, then how did anyone over the last 60 years get duped into a death trip to the dentist? Why it’s the $1,500 - $2,700 a tooth + $2,500 for the crown. If your still alive when it rots out they can nail you for a $4,000 implant & fund their kids college hopes on your coffin ride. Some would like to THINK dentists don’t know the side effects of root canals. You would hope the ADA would regulate procedures that might harm someone yet the almighty dollar of greed sways the pendulum over to the “By the time someone can prove it their either dead or over the 2 year limit G.W. Bush helped set up to cover their tails with thanks to heavy lobbying by the ADA.
I don’t know about you, but if someone sets a death clock into your body like something out of a Saw flick; that’s attempted murder at the least. The courts cover up for the elite & the poor soul that could have just had the tooth pulled & implanted gets ripped off & dies prematurely.
Don’t even get me going on Chem. Trails yet………. (Here is a link to get you started: http://www.healthymoneyvine.com/supportfiles/chemtrails_photos_information.pdf)
Chapter 1: Serendipitous Back Tracking, Running Scared, Braces & White Lies
“Little Boy Made a Mistake!!! Hey…. Pink Cloud Has Now Turned To Grey.. Ohh Yeah” Angry Chair By Alice In Chains (All Rights Reserved)
Anyone can tell you “Braces Suck”. They hurt, & are hard to brush… You have metal scraping your tongue; wires that stab, poke, pull & prod. It’s torture in my book. Did I mention that braces are bacteria magnets? So the braces I hated & fought for years ended up causing cavities in my molars; especially where the back brackets were cemented in. They formed perfect cavities in both molars; top & bottom. Side cavities from the brackets made a structural weakness in my #30. My teeth always hurt with the braces on. I’m sure my tooth sensitivities were caused by my inability to keep them clean being the 13 year old candy addict caffeine fiend I was bred to be with the excellent media spending of the major sugar pushers. Is it no wonder why I wanted to wait till I was 20 to get my teeth fixed?
I fought tooth & nail to get them off. I pulled them out; broke them; raised hell & protested. My parents got off on pushing something on me that I did not want just because they could. Had I asked for braces, I might have gotten out of the ordeal if you catch my drift. I had this grand idea that if I complained of tooth pain related to the braces it might convince the two braces Nazis that I needed them off. All it did was give Jerry Cellura a reason to put his kid through college to continue killing people with root canals when he decides to hang up his rubber gloves for golf gloves.
I told my parents I made it up…… Still, Emmy dragged me into the dentist kicking. Once I saw the Mid-evil looking tools, needles & devices of pain my inner voice said “Run Pete… This guys going to hurt you more than you could image.” I ran like Thuman Thomas in his prime; spinning away from this butcher & locking myself in the car. This went on for two trips. Then “Mommy Dearest” decided to pull off one of the most harmful lies of her career by stating “We are not going to give you a root canal any longer. You just need to get a checkup.” That got me doped up & duped into the first chapter of my toxin exposure by the hands of incompetent health care providers & alleged do gooders.
Jerry burned my tongue with one of the hot pokers; sending me screaming like a Michael Jackson fan, yet that was just his warm up for the big show. The packing cotton that was placed in the temporary filling abscessed, my throat closed up & I felt like death. Ray took me to a dental ER on a Saturday just so someone could drill off the top so the puss could squirt all over the wall. Crying, pleading & begging my parents not to let this hack hurt me any further only resulted in mockery, threats such as “your going to the next appointment or I’ll beat you in your sleep you little fucker” were persuading tools often used by these control freak tyrants. NICE FOLKS EMMY & RAY HELFRICH… NICE FOLKS INDEED.
I was so doped up, I don’t recall him dropping the cotton in my tooth, yet I remember asking him not to forget to LEAVE IT OUT THIS TIME!
Years passed. In 2001, I had good dental coverage at Kodak. An abscessed set of wisdom teeth were pushing my lower teeth out of wack. A fine oral surgeon was hesitant to pull my #31, yet I talked him into yanking the shanking tooth. He advised me to get a crown on the #30. I wanted it pulled, yet I never chewed on that side so what could go wrong? RIGHT!?!?!?!?
In 2007, I was finishing up my A.A.S. after a somewhat disappointing semester at Suny Oswego in which the technology promised was not provided & the professors failed to impress me, I flipped back on my B.A. to knock out my A.A.S. in Visual Communications: TV, Radio, Audio, Photo, Computer geek extraordinaire & ended up Deans List for the 7th time. All was not well though. I had witnessed the bullying of my grandmother by both my egg donor & her brother Donn (AKA: “Drunk Ol Don”) which gave me the brave idea of staying once again at the 5 story house to play Sheriff. Little did I realize at the time that my grandmother gets off on the drama involved when Don & Emmy fight each other as well as when they start fights with me. Don has attacked me numerous times. He has had numerous restraining orders against him from his wife, myself & others. Emmy likes to pick fights & cry wolf to the police. Most of the cops knew these clowns & their M.O.’s , so when something hit the fan it was usually squashed.
I had found a job in Rochester as a video editor that looked promising & my loyal at the time girlfriend Aviviah was also a motivating factor in being back “home”. At a longer glance this was all a bad idea, but bare with me for the full scoop.
I was bouncing between my father’s 150 year old “Helfrich Homestead”, my grandmothers house, Aunt Liz’s & Hippie Mike’s while enjoying my photography courses & the new job. My attitude started to change for the worse when unknowingly at the time the ceiling tiles started degrading & shredding my eyes up. From summer of 2007 till damn near November it took me to realize what was going on. The roof leaked & I black gooped it after bitter protest from Don & Emmy. They thought my eyes were pussing up, oozing & shredding due to my imagination. Sick twisted drunks these two.
My job ran out; my promised raise after 6 months was just 6 months buying time for them. I had to fight for my unemployment for about that amount of time + because Theo Wheeler of Wheeler Communications was paying me with company checks & keeping the taxes away from the IRS. My personality was shifting towards the dark & gray. A long haul from who I was in Oswego. V’s mom was driving her nuts so my dad allowed her to stay at his house. She spent $300 + a month + my $200 on food for my dad. I was advised of my great teeth & gums during my tooth cleaning at Monroe Community College. I was even asked if my techniques could be shared with the students professor so as to help future dental students. I had lost .5 mm of gum line since 2005. I bought a softer tooth brush. Boy was I in for a surprise.
Aviviah’s mother Ruth seemed to me like a controlling, obsessive mental case. She would run right up to me as soon as I walked into her house, get right in my face & yammer orders to me that I was supposed to order V into doing. She was bizarre. Her moods were all over the place. The woman freaked me out & quite honestly I was having a hard enough time with Emmy at Granny’s…. Ruth was the extra straw that this camel liked to avoid.
None of her family could understand why Ruth was always tired, having many health issues: chronic fatigue, muscle pains, sleeplessness & headaches. She was having a hard time working even part time. I just thought she was crazy… Crazy like my mom, yet not my mom & not my problem.
Ruth’s birthday celebration came at V’s aunt’s house… A celebration that ended with people asking Ruth if she was drunk (she never drinks), or high. She was just being a loon. Jammering like an auctioneer on meth. I left the party saying “your mom’s fucking nuts, I’m going home”… People started leaving the party as I left due to her behavior.
All of this seems trivial till Ruth’s cancer screening came back. A tumor in her brain stem could very well be the culprit. I apologized to V for my attitude towards her mom, yet the damage was done.
Our relationship was over in a flash. V could not handle me still recovering from the 60 year old ceiling tile nightmare & take care of her mom. The woman I hoped to thank if I decided to go to the graduation ceremony no longer wanted to speak to me understandably.
Eight months of eye agony took their toll on my relationship with Aviviah coupled with the fact that she was jealous of all my female friends that never tried anything with me; it was her friends that needed a scolding. We were incompatible. She was the best girlfriend I ever had to an extent. Very caring, giving, smart, funny. I’ve often regretted how I treated her during those times as much as I regret how we ended up on a bitter note that is mostly my doing. Loss of sleep & intense pain for that long can really knock you down.
Chapter 2:
Well, I've been down so Goddamn long That it looks like up to me Well, I've been down so very damn long That it looks like up to me Yeah, why don't one you people C'mon and set me free
I said, warden, warden, warden Won't you break your lock and key I said, warden, warden, warden Won't ya break your lock and key Yeah, come along here, mister C'mon and let the poor boy be
Baby, baby, baby Won't you get down on your knees Baby, baby, baby Won't you get down on your knees C'mon little darlin' C'mon and give your love to me, oh yeah
Well, I've been down so Goddamn long That it looks like up to me Well, I've been down so very damn long That it looks like up to me Yeah, why don't one you people C'mon, c'mon, c'mon and set me free
BEEN DOWN SO LONG Lyrics
Artist: The Doors
Album: L.A. Woman
Realizing that the woman that helped me graduate… a woman I loved more as a friend than a lover hated my guts for the verbal abuse suffered thanks to me was tough to swallow. I was happy not to be dating her, yet missing her as a friend. The stress from this + looking for work & being under / over qualified (or being turned down all together due to a 10 + year old Misdemeanor {sending a prank post card through the mail}) x’s the court fight for my unemployment insurance was bringing me to my boiling point.
By March, I was cracking. I filed for disability…. My hope for a job in this economy was lost. I felt black listed for a 10 year old error in judgement.
April 17th; a day that relives in my mind like a film loop…. I went down to Emmy’s basement lair for some chicken that I cooked the day before only to be tweaked by Emmy in a rude manner. I took the bait; dumped her beer & rode to Hippie Mikes.
As I puffed the last toke of candy cane chronic & kicked it off in the ash tray, I jokingly said to Mike “It would be just like Emmy to call the cops”….
“KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!!! POUND, POUND, POUND!”
Monroe County Sheriff’s…….
Mike took his time coming down, as did I. He ended up outside with Officer Wiebeld (it could be Weibeld.. his true spelling is not as important as the storyline..) attempting to enter Mikes 86 year old fathers house without a warrant. At the time it was un-known that Emmy told the office I beat her up, threw ketchup packets at her & was going over to Hippies Mikes “To get machine guns, grenades & kill her / blow the house up”… not quite an LOL in my book.
Officer Wiebeld was acting like a Gestapo officer. His Dirty Harry demeanor set me off from the get go.
Mike: “Your not welcome in my fathers house without a warrant. There is no felony in progress; is there a warrant for his arrest?”
Officer Wiebeld: “What are you his fucking lawyer; hippie!!??”
Mike: “His moms a crazy cop calling drunk. She’s filed false charges against Pete, his father & other people.”
Officer Wiebeld: “I’m calling for backup”.
In come the clowns. 7 squad cars over a dumped beer.
Officer Wiebeld: “ You’re my new project. Say hi boys.”
Officer Wiebeld’s Goon Squad: “Hi Pete, your our new project.”
Officer Wiebeld: “I’m gonna get you, motherfucker. I’m going to be seeing you soon.”
Officer Wiebeld’ Goon Squad: “Is that your car, or your girlfriends? We will be following you.”
I gave them the Nazi salute a few times & told them to show me my charges or get a warrant. He called for a warrant & Mike ran in to call his sister. Colleen is married to a musician related to Mafia yet is legit. Coleen knew Officer Wiebeld’s & the Goon Squads bosses boss from church. She came over just in time with her cell phone to tell the boys the party was over… Talk to your boss..
Officer Wiebeld: “Yessss…. Yes sir.. Right away sir…
Ohhh.. you did it this time.. Your fucked… I’ll get you… This is just the beginning!!”
I raised hell from the Governor’s Office on down & our favorite officer & his boss hauled me in to speak to me out of the fear of what I could do to them legally. I was told that they apologize for the error & that it was not up to them as far as the charges. It was up to Emmy to drop them, or show up in court.
Later that week, I got the court appearance date & instead of just standing tall like the many time before; I flipped out over the fear of having a new charge on a long gone record of a petty misdemeanor. My newest stroke of genius was to try to make Emmy feel guilty for filing the false charges.
I wrote her a nasty note to the effect:
“You lying drunken bitch... You’ve done your best to ruin my life & this latest game of yours will cost me the ability to find a job. I just want to die & I hope you live to be 120 to have to live with what you’ve done to me over the years you mental case bitch.”
After I wrote it… I threw so much hate down on the paper that I was shaking. Negative energy, if you believe in such a thing. Some call it “Projection”. Looking back at things, this experience turned me from skeptic to believer. Seeing was always believing to me.
Things just increasingly got worse to the point of living hell on Earth.
I rode off in my 2005 Honda thinking an oil change at my dads house would cool my head off & be therapeutic. Mistake #3. The Sheriff’s came to my dads just about drooling over the fact that they now get to rip on me some more & stick it that much farther up my wazu with a ride to Saint Mary’s booby hatch. Try sleeping in a room with the lights on, crazies yammering & some nut next to me coming in my room to tell me how Red China, the Russians & some aliens were making a new super weapon out of wave frequencies & that HE was locked up here because he was trying to save the world as a double agent set him up for the fall.
I was refused anything to help me sleep. The first gentleman doctor heard my story & was supposedly contemplating letting me out, yet my manacle mother kept speed dialing the ward stating such things as: “don’t ever let him out, he’ll kill me.” The irony is, she put the wack on me with the root canal… The effect of this incarceration proved to be the next nail in the coffin.
They, like the Nazi Sheriff Goon Squad previously; took her words as spoken from God’s mouth. The next doctor was female & she seemed to be taking joy in keeping me there.
I was wheeled into the ward by lunch time. I was stuck there till a lawyer could spring me; my hope was to make the best of it. Joke….. Laugh…. Make friends…. Be positive!!!! I was introduced to my cell mate; Jon. Polite, kind, soft spoken & real. Jon was a great friend to have there. He was suicidal, but not really one of those “Gotta email planet Zoloft about the inter galactic planetary conference & save the Cabbage patch Kids” if you catch my drift.
Before the visit turned tragic (bug bite), it was like a vacation from my asshole uncle & egg donor witch from the East.
The food was not half bad, most (MOST I SAY) of the staff seemed well intended with the exception of the diabolical Dr. Mustafa. You think I’m kidding about the diabolical part… Oh, you naïve readers.. I’ll cross that scarred memory when the time is right.
Jon helped introduce me to people, find my room & all the basic introductory to the mad house rules. When lunch was served, I noticed a exorcist / medusa haired (I’m toying with metaphor, the only snakes she had were in her heart; after later analysis) “just got done with a good head spin, a fight with 5 guards, a good projectile puke, wall crawl & a fart”. Jon made the notice of her outer beauty. I was on this new kick about giving all people the benefit of the doubt & since I just got done with the royal ream job it was only right to try & see if this roughed up beauty was beast or maiden. I could see her brain squirming like a toad. This should have been my first warning, but without trying to sound like a sex machine, I often go where my second brain pushes my ID.
Medicated & under captivity, Jen came off like another victim of circumstance. She painted her mom out in a similar tone as what my experience was. Little did I know, or get the vibe that she was not utterly the most manipulative Black Widow / Devil Woman / Succubus I have ever come in contact with; the girl was a close second. I was sucked in like a school boy. We both had intelligence & vowed to fight to get out of here by using reverse hegemony. We exposed the flaws, safety hazards, etc. that if proven could have landed the hospital in hot water. Our other duality is that we teamed up to spring ourselves out by exposing the fact that Dr. Mustafa had little or no idea of our past medical issues, & that he was handing out pills & dosages much higher that I, or Jen were used to; on top of trying to force drugs on her that were giving her bad reactions.
The flaky yet almost mouse like (as in timid) intake nurse asked me the usual 20 questions while my sarcasm threw her off. This set the tone for an awkward relationship with someone that ended up not being a bad person. Many of the other nurses & staff came to realize that my mother needed to be locked up & I needed to be freed after Emmy’s perpetually incessant drunken rants to the main desk added up as they got to know me as a person. I had two nurses say as much. As it turned out, Emmy was also calling the Sheriff’s stating I escaped from the nut house & was coming to kill her with machine guns. As much as the staff knew I should be free, Dr. Mustafa had obviously been leaning towards following “Mommy Dearests” protocols for locking me up as long as possible with the most amount of corporate dope in my system.
Being in such a place, your credibility becomes a non factor. You lose your rights as a US citizen. You either take their drugs or get hog tied or worse. Some clown from a third world country who came here to bank roll ends up in a place no shrink would be proud of is given the power to drug me up against my will; keep me there longer if I refuse the drugs, & intimidate me with the promise of even a longer stay if I went into court to object to the prolonged stay.
It seemed as if Jen & I were being held longer than most people due to each mother’s energy pushing that concept with all their will. This was going to be a fight. A real team effort. Joining forces, we advocated for others as well as ourselves. I was wondering why a kid can come in with slit wrists for a day or two & someone like me was being held 4-5 days so far with no hope of getting out unless a judge stepped in. I was born to fight for justice. It was in my blood & I came like that straight from the factory. Like a double agent (it just add humor… come on a nut house; attractive woman wanting my help to spring her…LOL) Jen was sucking me in. She dumped her boyfriend & we began a relationship as we filed complaints regarding our care & the care of others. People were averaging 1-3 days stay. Was I just over reacting with the thought we were being made examples of (the rabble rousers getting extra time for sticking up for those who needed avocation)?
There we many funny moments during this hell. None of it makes me laugh anymore. I might share a few of the top 5 in the end of the book for those who care to laugh. All jokes end from here on out.
Act 3: The Bite in the Night from Hell
“I’m not the one who’s so far away
As I feel the snakebite enter my veins
Never did I wanna be here again & I don’t remember why I came”
Godsmack: VOODOO Lyrics (All Rights Reserved)
“Your just a parasite; I feel you in my veins
I lie awake @ night; its driving me insane”
PJ Helfrich’s “Parasite”
I awoke on the night of the 7th day stay with immense pain shooting like ice picks on a steel shore right next door to hell. A bite on my right temple felt like hell fire being injected into my brain. Tic? Spider? Either or is not my choice for want.
On repeated deaf ears, my pleas for medical attention were swept under the rug even as I saw the eyes light up from the staff as if they KNEW what it was yet were afraid if the Genie escaped…. Can anyone say LAWSUIT!? My father was too much of a camera phone cave man to keep the pic of the bulls eye blotch & white puss center that is a classic introductory marker for lyme. Had I been able to videograph the bit & my surroundings, I might have gotten proper care or had at least had enough money to find proper care.
Being ignorant of what lyme can do, I played it off after the headache cleared. Had I known that the equivalent of a nuclear attack on my body was underway, you can bet I would have raised more hell.
There were numerous safety issues being ignored across the board during my experience there. Shower areas had slippery tile floors with no safety mats. I warned them someone was going to fall & two days later two people got hurt. They even used harmful floor stripper in the wing with no safety masks or ventilation! All of this was blown off & our complaints were “lost, missing, could not be found” upon a later request. Hospitals are pros at playing CYA. And yes, I now believe that you can get sicker at a hospital.
As Jen & I filed complaints; they just kept messing up more. Our heat on the system was starting to work; we were making their lives difficult & exposing their neglect which was giving them incentive to release us.
After our court date (approx.. 10 days into my stay), it was clear that Dr. Mustafa was keeping me there longer than average with no factual reason. I was released after 14 days, a tic bite & nightmares I’ll keep with me to the grave. I had two dreams during that time that came to fruition in a sense. One of them I’ll speak of.
I was in a mess hall full of zombies. My grandpa Bob was there with a jammed shot gun. I covered for him. He was laughing like the days of old. We ran out into the desert to avoid these devils. I took the dream to mean that I needed to stick up for an old fellow named Mr. McPhearson, who reminded me of my gramps. Almost a week had gone by & no one bothered to get him batteries for his hearing aid!? Some of the staff seemed confused as to why he was not hearing them. I helped get him his batteries. It did little to reset my karma. The desert connection comes later in the story.
Jen had a small apartment in Rochester set to go. She told me I could live there. I arrived 3-4 days ahead of her. After putting her clothes away, I got ready for my hearing with Wheeler Communications. I won a hard battle & got my unemployment.
When Jen arrived, she was still medicated. Within three days, she made the bitch from the Exorcist look like Mother Teresa. One minute she proclaims her love for me, the next second she never wants to have sex with me ever again. It’s rare that someone tweaks me to the point of wanting to gouge their eyes out & stuff them in a dumpster. Imaginary people listening to us from her car speakers; making an argument out of thin air; going to bars to pick fights with drunk guys so that they start shit with me rather than punch her out; & lastly going out & having sex with one of her slew of male friends just to hurt me & piss me off were just some of the things this she devil was capable of when the coo coo meds wore off. It was clear she set me up to spring her & now I was like a tampon in the toilet; time to flush me out & find a new neck to suck on. How I managed to find someone as slick, dangerous & downright wicked as my mother so fast made me feel cursed.
I had night sweats; chills; a hanging cough; flue like issues. Awaking from a dead sleep, I found myself deliriously wrapped up with Jen like a pretzel. She was caressing my face & chanting “I love you Pete, I love you”; over & over like a friggin witch. I was scared & so out of it that I nodded off 2-3 times only to awake to it again. The next day she made it a point to state “we are at the age when our bodies are going to start breaking down”. I was clueless as to why she made this such an issue out of thin air. Was she projecting? It was the way she said it that made me think of a B-Movie storyline “She-Devil From the Funny Farm”! Watch as they seduce men for their personal gain. See them suck the life out of their un-suspecting victims as they sleep! No man is safe from their kiss!
One thing I did know; if there was evil, this bitch was it. I ran out of there the next day like my balls were on fire.
Act 4
Out of the Frying Pan & Into The Mold Pit:
I set off packing to my fathers. I was not happy about living at my dads. He sleeps 3 hours a day if he sleeps at all & has a bi-polar slant that can drop on a dime. I never had any physical issues visiting my dads. No allergies, or anything that would tip me off that there was mold in the house. I was ignorant of what having a virtual pond in the basement could do to people.
Within two weeks, I awoke writhing on the floor like a wounded python. I crawled two hours to the tub & smoked two joints just so I could crawl down the stairs. My ankles, knees, hands, neck, spine, elbows had al swollen up to the point of not even being able to see my ankles. This IS LYME DISEASE I proclaimed!! Damn, if I only had a camera with video in the funny farm.
I immediately called Spencerport Family Medicine. My regular doctor; Patrick McGrath was not available. The doctor that took his place just gave me pain meds. Even though I spoke of the bulls eye blotch, no blood work was taken. I was naïve enough to think that a place I had gone to since I was a teen would have my best interests in mind rather than covering up for St. Mary’s. They are one big conglomerate; joined right down to the insurance provider, lawyers, & other legal goons.
Not seeing any relief, I got a meeting with Dr. McGrath. He ran the standard test (60% failure rate.. See for yourself http://www.canlyme.com/labtests.html or Google; “Lyme Tests 60 % Failure Rate”), which convinced him I was not hit by Lyme & he refused to run any other tests as my insurance did not cover anything but the “Death Panel Option” level of “Care”.
I did my best to fight through the arthritis & set up things to transfer to Suny Plattsburgh for a fresh start 300 miles from my crazy family of drunken maniacs, tics & She Devils. I was convicted of Aggravated Harassment when my first Public Pretender failed to inform me of his leaving his job. If that was not enough, all my records proving Emmy a chronic cop caller & story teller were not given to J.B. Afoh Manin. I was basically given a clown to play dumb & plea to the D.A. which I refused. I was denied the request to postpone the trial by J.B. He refused to even ask my mother if she was drinking, nor did he allow me to ask Emmy question as I wanted to represent myself if this joker was going to botch my case.
Emmy put on a “Emmy Award” winning “poor victim” act, with full boo hoo, bullshit & conflicting answers. “He hit me.. Well, he might have. No, he missed me. She admitted that I was 15 feet away from her in one breath & then flip flopped six ways to Sunday. None of this seemed to matter. The cops needed a guilty verdict to get off of the harassment they shot my way, so they got it. I was given no fine, no punishment. It was a face saving conviction.
I would have smiled over a year in jail rather than pay for what was to come.
Hippie Mike often redundantly yet prophetically pointed out like a stoned Christian Yoda on Chronic: “I never tell anyone my birthday. Because to the wrong ear, your birthday can become your death day”. I thought he was just too ripped off the high test. Turns out the guy should read palms.
A bit late in the game & scrambling for an apartment where I was solo came down to one last open studio. It was either that or live on campus. I hated living on campus in the dorms & would not make my car payment plus the high rent charged for campus living. It was take the shoebox or don’t go to college.
The long drive my father & I took on the 23rd of August 2008 was movie script. We stopped to fire up a Jay and recalled the trip. My grandfather had a shoe store in a town along the way. I was so filled with the hope of a new life. A total transformation. Rebirth.
We got there way late due to my over bearing & stubborn pops demanding to skip the GPS & follow his “back roads” style. It added almost 4 hours to the trip. It was just after 12am on the 24th of August 2008 when I signed my life away on the rental contract. The bathroom was the size of a closet. The shower was a dime store chop job to say the least. It was caulked. I saw no mold at the time, so I just went with it. Rick asked me if I wanted to see another possibility. I should have jumped on it, yet it was all I could afford. The next wave of attack on my body was just warming up the death drums.
We moved in & hit the town. The ladies were dressed to kill & the cool air spoke of hope in the breeze. After eating a sausage with my dad we were like two kids at a strip bar. Totally in awe of the town.
Within weeks, I was feeling weaker. My mouth was dry no matter how much I drank. I was peeing more. My eyes were watering like crazy for no reason? Nose bleeds. Flue like issues. I was getting sick more. Was it just due to a mass population of international student bringing in foreign microbes? It had to be. I mean if it was lyme, I would be swelling up again (?)
I had this positive projection thing going. I was going to make tons of friends, excel in class & try to find a good woman. Walking down Brinkerhoff Street led my the soon to be Oraja Lounge. I introduced myself to James the owner & his red headed chick friend whom I thought was his girl. We instantly had a connection & became friends. Its all coming together, I thought. I’m braking my losing streak. Old Karma out, new in. I was fooling myself.
I made so many dear friends, I had a sore elbow waiving to them all in the halls. The classes were going well. I was honing skills that I enjoyed as a hobby. Getting paid would be even cooler.
The next seemingly un-connected symptom was gum loss. It was slow coming. No pain involved. I just needed a softer toothbrush I thought. This was 1-2 months into this Elm Street story. By the third month, I was crapping 4-7 times a day. It was more foul than normal. What on Earth was going on?
I just ignored these issues & went head strong into my studies, friendships & hobbies. Besides, how bad was Lyme anyway? My immune system was solid, or so I thought.
As my life was becoming Heaven in one aspect, the underlying Hell was whispering to me but I was metaphorically listening to my Ipod. Nothing would stop my new found Nirvana. Or so I thought. The gums kept dwindling. I pleaded for full blood work from the college hospital. I was never given the results. Once again I was brushed off, given pain pills, psych drugs, & more questions than answers.
All my scholastic & personal goals were coming true, but my body was failing. The doctors just went for the easy fix. Treat the pain, dope the brain. I started waking up with spiking pain in my kidneys?? How could all these weird symptoms be happening? Coming & going without notice.
Then in March, I woke up one night with my gums on fire. I ran crying to the bathroom mirror & was shocked to see my gums were eaten away. Bleeding puss was oozing out of every square inch of my gums. Plaque was literally forming as I watched. Scraping it away, it was forming back in minutes!! All I needed next was to hear Rod Sterling talking with the classic Twilight Zone song in the background. It HAD to be that dam root canal tooth. That was the mystery issue! Well, I had 2 out of three. If I could just convince ONE health care provider of it. The overnight rate of gum loss was massive. I’m guessing at 3-4 mm off yesterdays gums. I packed my gums with garlic & cried myself to sleep. I had to see if I had dental coverage with Fidelis.
It took hell & high water to find a basic dentist to even see me. No one wanted Fidelis. It was like calling to inform your soon to be date that you had leprosy & wondering why she never came to the meet spot for a beer. Richard Foreman saw me in May. His determination that I had cured myself of trench mouth. He refused to listen to my rotten #30 hypothesis as well as refusing me a referral to an oral surgeon, or even antibiotics. What threw him off was the super antibiotics I was given for a sinus infection I earned a week before. The pills knocked the infection down just in time to dupe Dr. Foreman.
I had bruises that would not heal. A simple tap, bump, or just by resting my hands on my hips would leave a bruise that stayed for months. This tooth has to go, I thought. It must be harboring the Lyme. Was this my miracle cure? Michelle & Delia of Student Support Services were calling non-stop across a 6+ hour distance just to find me someone to pull the tooth. No one took Fidelis. I was going to die with this thing rotting in my mouth.
It took me driving 14 hours round trip back to Rochester countless times just trying to find someone to save my life. Oral surgeons can pick what they want to make for the most part. They, like many of the higher educated feel entitled to the high life. It’s a profit driven business. No money? No high end insurance? I guess you find a dill & a pair of pliars, or die then.
At last, a receptionist told me to go into Strong / Eastman Dental ER & demand they pull the tooth. I even got a referral from Q-Dental. Anti-biotics, anti-fungals & a referral. I should be all set. Healing at last?
Strong ER is filled with students, & newly graduated dentists. They have this cookie cutter way of seeing you. It takes 4-5 visits just to get them to work on you. I had a wasted appointment for X-Rays when I had them on a flash drive. I had to demand to speak to a supervisor just to get them to realize how serious my issue was.
On the day of the last meeting before the operation, I was waiting to be seen as someone wheeled in a frail-sickly woman into the ER. I did a double take. No… It can’t be!? Emmy? The wicked bitch from the East? What are the odds?! I walked by her like Obi Wan Kenobi attempting not to be seen. She was in this dazed off, drugged up stare at the wall state. My God, it is Emmy! I was lucky she did not fall off the chair, scream “ouch, he’s hitting me! Don’t let him kill me!” We were 1 room away from each other. She was getting a biopsy. I was getting a tooth pulled. We BOTH had root canals from Cellura.
After Emmy’s cat died from a weird seizure out of nowhere, I warned her of the mold issue I faced in 1998 & she arrogantly mocked me just as she did with my ceiling tile hypothesis that was dead on 8 months late. Now she had mouth cancer & I had massive gum loss & two teeth that needed pulling for now. What was the duality? This had to have some higher meaning. What were the odds?
Three + hours of pulling, drilling, blood, & carnage. I stood strong like a solider & watched the blood & bones fly. Dr. Jiwani was a petit woman of possible Indian decent. It was a bear for her to pop the top off that #30. My roots went right to the main nerve. I thought she was going to pop my jaw off, & then finally a snapping sound. As she pulled the top off, rotten black, grey & green cotton came out like clowns out of a VW Rabbit. It smelled like a coffin opening. “Oh my god, what did they do to you?” was all she could say.
After 1.5 hours of drilling Dr. Jiwani was sweating. A student with more experience came by twice to see if she needed a break. By the third visit, she was ready for a break. “You don’t have to worry about bone density that’s for sure” made me smile. They both admired my grit. Advanced necrotization of my sub-ginvinial tissue were two key words I picked up on. They thought they were speaking in a code that most people could not decipher. I’m not most people. They also were miffed over the white sloughing of tissue in my mouth. I was in shock. That bastard Cellura went two for two on killing me with cotton. This HAD to be the end of this Hell!?!? It was not even close. Had Dr. Theire come in to see these issues, I might have had more of a clue myself as to the underlying issue of fungal infection. But where was I getting this exposure? I was clueless.
Around this time all my Youtube videos of the mold, doctors / dentists screwing me over, etc. had created a buzz in the mold click. Witzer Law soon peaked an interest in my case. Right up to the end they had me fooled into thinking they were helping me. I was working with Miriam, who answered to Brian Witzer. She told me to get samples, but not where or how. She failed to warn me of the company I had go in to take the samples were working for Rick Landry’s goons. Miriam even told me NOT to have air quality samples taken. Even when I paid for them, the firm kept my money & never took the air samples. Witzer law used Croft for a mold case yet waited till after I paid out the nose for bioptic samples, cloth testing, etc. that Crofts science does not hold up in court. So why did she knowingly let me waste my time, money & chips on a fraud?
It was one of the biggest let downs yet. Witzer was losing mold cases as my case went from a shoe in for them to a dirty tampon in need of a bio-hazard bag.
All the time we worked together, Miriam told me how good of a case I had. We were like a team. I was led to think we were friends. It ended up being an elaborate hoax that just sapped more hope & life out of me. Never trust a lawyer when mold involved. NEVER! They will screw you in your sleep if it means $20 more in their pocket on the insurance industries bill. Believe it. I know people who went through 7 years of court; turning down $150, 000 to hold out for few million (which never buys your health back, nor your sanity) that had a lawyer with a coke & tranny habit the insurance goons held over him to throw out the case. He played her for 7 years. Many lawyers do this. They make it look like they tried. Its all like professional wrestling & politics. They talk smack on screen & play golf after work.
So it took summer classes passing by and a wait from March to July just for a tooth extraction. I was stoked Woodstock was soon to be. August 14th baby. I met a 19 year old super hot hippy friend with tats on her legs on up to party with. We had sex for hours. But I could not climax, nor could I keep it going for more than an hour which was weird. I could go 1-3 hours no issues just a while back. I knew that things were serious. But the mystery was still an open case & hidden clues.
September 7th, 2009. A day that replays in my mind like an endless loop. I had prayed the night before for an end to the pain. I pleaded for truth or death. My mouth was burning in agony. My nose was bleeding. A morning shower revealed the clue. My shampoo bottle fell & the black mold hiding behind it revealed the killer behind the shower. If it was Norman Bates, I stood a chance. I had the grand idea to take samples & videograph the evidence. Little did I know that NY law stands behind mold being an allergy. The rules that “prove” a mold case are so ridiculous that you would not imagine what it takes to win a case.
I became so sick for the added exposure that I stumbled to CVPH Hospital like a delirious zombie. Mold videos & samples in hand I passed out in the front lobby only to come to briefly thanks to a cop jamming his finger in my eye while some nurse grated on my chest with her ring laden hands.
I came too once on the elevator ride up. I was very much out of it; the toxins were ravaging my body. They took my ID, treated me like some doped up junkie & rolled their eyes when I showed them the mold & the video CD. As soon as it was mentioned WHERE I got molded, I could tell that the 20 minute group huddle was to try to make this issue go away with Property Management of Plattsburgh smelling like a rose & me looking like an idiot. To top it off, they send in this decked out blond with the longest legs along with the shortest skirt or Earth to “Wonder Woman” me into the looney bin. I was basically told I was crazy to think mold hurts people. My gum issue was explained as: “you need to change your tooth brush every 90 days. I wanted to smash their heads on some concrete & shove some statchy up their anuses to turn them into believers. My pain, frustration & toxin load had me ready to snap. I yanked out the IV’s, called them all a bunch of idiots.
“I might be crazy, but your stupid & I can get counseling. You will always be stupid.” I walked back to the death box on Clinton Street in total shock. The hospital covering up for the biggest tax cow in P-Town? How could. This is when I really started to see how big this cover up was. It was the first big sign that the norm of the medical community capitulates to the almighty dollar as opposed to the health of the sick. Even an orderly knew toxic mold was harmful as I spoke to him before leaving that den of hyenas. I was wondering how Dr. gill got his degree (Cracker Jack Box, or an on-line college)?
(Insert Youtube Link: CVPH Hospital)
Wandering back in utter disbelief, I spent one last night in the death box. Little did I realize the far reaching aspects of this debilitating curse from Hell. I was learning behind the 8 ball & the room for error was measured in microns.
I had this blind faith that truth & justice would prevail. I had yet to even talk to another moldie.
My research began & has yet to stop since. Facebook had a few mold victims sites. I had met some good people on there. Looking back now, many of these people gave me bread crumbs rather than hit me over the head with the anvil of reality all at once. I wish I had gotten the full education instantly… To know what I know now might have changed MANY of my future actions.
Many of the moldies had varying concepts of advice. I had hope that someone had a cure, or a way to end this madness. Homeopathic concepts, avoidance, etc. I was told all my things were now toxic!? PLEASE; not my super computer!? Not my music!? Not my favorite outfit!!! I could not FEEL these things hurting me. No one told me about detoxing, the herximer effect, or how the hypersensitivity curse comes ONLY after total avoidance of approximately 3-6 months. No; for now I was fooling myself into thinking all would be well if I got out of the apartment. I actually felt ok after I got out. No pains to speak of. Some woman in her late 40’s that was in my class with Dr. Dann told me I could sleep on her floor. Three days of that & getting hit up in my sleep for money to support her crack habit was one more baseball bat to my groin. It was like the town was turning on me overnight & eating me alive.
I had an offer from a disability advocate for free safe housing. I prayed for it to work out. The woman in (INSERT COMPANY NAME HERE) charge assured me that anything regarding my last land lord would be ignored due to the circumstances. Three days later, she was a completed *360 from her previous demeanor. Rick Landry & his goon squad got to her. I have the audio of the conversation on tape.
(Insert Link)
Cheated & beaten at every turn with my wits questioning reality. How could such pure greed be able to get away with murder? I was only scratching the surface of the evil at work. The entire system in NY is designed to cover up for land owners while victims get black listed from safe housing for speaking up.
Complaints to the Health Department, CDC, Attorney General, Governor’s Office right on up to The White House all basically played “it’s not my problem. There is no law that makes any government agency test for mold in a building”. There is no proof mold harms people. How perfect the design of this new age genocide by turning a blind eye. Good ol Al Einstein said it best: “its not the evil of the world that scares me. Its those that know what to do yet do nothing.” What a sad truth Al. Say it ain’t so. Its as if mold victims are the new Jews of the world & they found a way around spending money on bleach & ammonia to knock down the population through hegemony. I new about greed, corruption & evil yet this was like walking through an alternate reality that changed my outlook on the human race forever. It makes me sick to be human. I regret being born, let alone being labeled with such a mass of self serving devil worshipping ass clowns as those that collectively worked towards making sure people like me die before we see justice. I recanted my “give peace a chance persona” for the Charles Bronson / Bruce Willis option from that time on. Knowing the full scope of this experience now, I would send a birthday card with a thank you to anyone suffering from this who decided to locate the owner of the property that ruined their life to go out like Joan Of Ark rather than pull their pants up & crawl in a hole as most people do. If you have 6 months to live or less why not go out a hero sending a message to these evil bastards rather than just die a victim? Many people get offended with my opinion on this topic. I hope you can set aside our differences in opinion & still get the essence of why I feel this way. You can’t imagine how I feel unless you’ve been through 2-3 years of this plus living outside like an animal for a year. Show me Rick Landry’s CEO & give me a month in a Homer Simpson suite with air tanks to go SAW 4 on that bastard to give him a crash course on mycotoxicosis. Rick deserves to be skinned alive & dipped in honey for the fire ant colony that I would bury him head sticking out next to. Hey, if he cried for water, I would gladly urinate in his mouth. I did one better. I sent him a voodoo doll that was created on Halloween! Go ahead & laugh, but half of projecting / manifesting anything at someone is getting into their head & rattling their psyche. Kind of like what happens when I see, smell, or know mold is around. I just go ape. Can you blame me?
Judges, lawyers, witnesses, labs, & even doctors have been bribed, intimidated & threatened into tossing a victory over to the insurance mafia that would rather kill than admit molds best kept secret. If your just the average person that either is not being affected, or your still in the dark about being sick from a biotoxin this might sound rash. Don’t give up on me yet. As much as I spit out a dash of venom at the opposition, this story needs to be told if only to convince one person how unjust, unacceptable & unreal this injustice is. It’s your choice on how to handle your own experience. Lay down & die, give justice a chance, or otherwise. But don’t let your voice go unheard. Don’t die in vain.
Ok, enough soap box vigilante for now. I’ve probably lost 35% of my audience by now, but that’s the price of freedom of speech. We might not agree on the solution. Just don’t hate me for my opinion & don’t let it lessen this story.
Act 5
From National Honors to Public Enema #2… How fast they turn on you.
I ended up thinking dropping my classes was the best idea. It’s a regrettable concept as I sit here typing & wondering how it got any worse than this from here on out. From October till now I have been a car or tent dweller. People just can’t imagine why. Explain it to them & watch them look at you like your from planet Uranus. My, how the corporate media had sheepified the masses. BAHHHH.. Indeed…..
Thinking dads house was safe, I stayed in the House of A Billion Mold Spores from September 09 till October 20th. I only started to realize what the house was doing to me by seeing what it was doing to my friends. I had a female friend that would come by & watch movies. After about an hour she would get a debilitating headache, faintness. She would apologize for feeling ill & leave like the cops were on the way. I started to see the light. She was like me.
Sujei was living in the basement of a friends house. She spoke of tooth loss, some gum issues, the flu like sickness & even admitted that the walls dripped water at times. Like myself & most others the truth was too much for her. She could be dying down there as I type. So many people are dying like this & just letting the doctors hand them corporate dope rather than expose the root cause. Sujei was just the beginning.
During this time, my friend Mark was back from Georgia I believe because he & his brother had a falling out. Mark got molded at his brothers house & was having similar issues. Since Mark moved in with Hippie Mike out of desperation he was getting sick too!? Mike fought the issue as if I was just projecting this whole nonsense & now Mark was mimicking my issues. Mark had some of my issues & many of his own. Mike was just playing the ignorant stoned hippy to the max. He finally admitted his dad’s house had a leak in the basement, but “how did we know that”!? as if we snuck down there with a bunch of mold detecting devices. Our bodies where the alarms. You just need to listen to the sound & make the connection yourself.
Emmy died in the middle of October 2009. To think of all the years of harassment, belittling, verbal & physical abuse I put up with only to snap over her usual sour words just made me furious. “you mean if I only stuck it out there another year & pulled that rotten tooth I might have a life worth living!?!?” It was like her final knife jab to my soul. She died in that moldy basement from possibly the root canaled teeth fostering the mold like a petry dish on roids. I grew to hate her for what she had done to me. The lie that got me the toxic tooth plus the lie that got me the tic bite mixed with getting tossed out of Grannys over her lies which thrust me to my fathers death pit, only to run 300 miles to another toxic hell hole. It was like a chain reaction that would not end from the instant I wrote the letter that projected this insanity.
My father & I celebrated her death by agreeing that she can’t mind fuck either of us anymore & her “evil” died with her. Now I’m almost sure that was another false hope along this Boulevard of Broken Dreams.
I was so revved up to get justice that I was over looking the obvious. From July to the middle of October living at my fathers was killing me. All my things were contaminated partly BEFORE the move to Plattsburgh. The summer I spent in 08 + the July to October stay was pounding my life force away as well as my gum line, organs & spirit. My gums were not healing right from the extractions. The anti fungals stopped ceasing the pain. I had no idea the toxin was separate from the infection. Realizing the toxin was causing the damage was tough to imagine at first. Trust me, I get it now. The next hurdle was realizing not only was the toxin eternal, but I had to make my cave man stoner father realize he needed to burn that house to the ground & sell the land before the house kills again. It was like convincing a monkey that bananas were bad. Actually, it was worse than that. He is the most thick skulled mycotoxinated mush brain I’ve met other than my aunt who is still slowly dying in her own mold hell & denying every symptom to be anything other than a common flu, cold or old age.
Of couse no one but Mark even believed me. My father obsessively tried to intimidate, mock & harass me into coming into the house for another dose of death like a dying man looking for someone to hold hand with on a cliff jump into a volcano. He would call me, wake me up early only to tell me “The heats on in the shower room. Hurry up & wash cus electric ain’t cheap.” OVER & OVER & OVER no matter how many times I explained to the idiot. Then he started pulling crap like placing items I needed in the alien mold slime basement from a sick B-Movie only to call me a pussy, faggot, bitch, faker, over reactor when I asked him if he was trying to kill me or get me mad enough to kill him for his mental case harassment. 2-7 times a day till around the time I left that jerk spent trying to drag me into that basement. I had dreams of bashing his brains in with a tire checker for what he was doing to me. My own father seeing me piss blood, lose teeth, gums, was going out of his way to expose me to more death. I’ve grown to hate him as much as Emmy. It’s as if I would have been smart to have blasted them both into the other world at the age of ten so as to avoid the brace that led to the root canal with magnified the power of the tic bite, thus complementing the mold that was always an underlying issue.
The abuse taken from them growing up was bad enough. It took me to 28 to realize they were the idiots, not me. And now they’ve managed to ruin my life out of spite, stupidity & ignorance.
The tent got ruined in late November. I ended up getting a bad chest cold & landed in the ER again only to have to deal with another mold incompetent who at first refused me medications only to give me (as Strong did when Sujei took me to the ER over my gum issues) a sugar based, non-systemic anti fungal that just made things worse. My aunt Liz took me in for a few weeks. I felt better up till the third week. That’s when I realized her house was a death mold farm as well.
Liz is the kind of person that initially thought oil replaced & checked itself. She ruined a new car once by running it put of oil. She does not make enough to afford it when a house breaks down. She will also take any big issue, put her head in the sand & thumb up her fart hole only to displace the issue by obsessing over something as stupid as two forks in the sick that need to be washed before sundown. So the mold just kept brewing even though she knew she had a leak. She hired some idiots with a three hour mold course from a mold testing place only to hear what she wanted, which was: “Its not the black mold stuff, so don’t worry!” Over 100,000 species of mold & this joker convinces my aunt not to sweat it. To this day she brings up that damn report. Slapping people into reality should be admired under certain circumstances. Sooner or later she will end up like me or worse. Basically, every house that was once a sanctuary became my sure death. I could net seem to escape this nightmare. No place was home. Even my cherrie Honda Element; my pride & joy was making me sick from the mold filled HEPA filter that got over run with spores from me running in & put of toxic hell holes unknowingly over the years.
If all this was not enough, I was hoping to switch my disability case over to Rochester from the agency (Sullivan & Associated) so as to not get looted out of $5,000 + because in Rochester you get free advocation for SSI/SSD. In Plattsburgh you get robbed. All the paperwork for a change of venue / change of representative was filed & ignored by the court in P-Town. The case went on without me & SSA paid mark Sullivan with my money even after I relieved him from his duties. All he did was mail paperwork that I gave him.
I tried to find something I could sleep in. Once the disability kicked in I bought a 2010 Ford Transit on December 24th, 2009. What a mistake. First off, the dealer sent me off with 20-25 pounds of air when I needed 40-45. I almost died driving home from my uncles home on Christmas over this issue. Then the knobs fell off of it. Next was the bumper. It was snapped in like a Leggo. I spent the next 1,000 miles & three weeks trying to pawn it off at a loss.
I hate thr new Honda Elements. They went from a cool looking black & gray water / spill proof seats to God ugly baby food show all dirt brown seats that have those stupid tiny arm rests & air bag seats. I hate air bag as it is. Air bag seat just sounds like over kill. You can’t even put seat covers on it. The rear Honda seat covers don’t even fit it. They removed the moon roof. They even went show all dirt baby food brown on the interior plastic. The new stability system forces you to shut it off every time you start the car. It is dangerous when carrying a cargo box while using this feature. They even switched the headlight on switch to three clicks rather than the old two which threw me off till I killed the battery leaving the running light on by mistake. Everything liked was gone. Even the lower change pocket. I should have just waited to sell my 05. I ended up tying a noose around my neck. Why would fate do this to me? I almost had my 05 paid for! I loved it & it was making me sick. I began to understand the high suicide rate of mold victims. Make this end or let me die became a nightly mantra as I cried myself to sleep in pain as I do to this day. The only thing keeping me going right now is finishing this story.
I was also in constant contact with Spring (mold victim of a moldy job & later to be proven a moldy house like my dads). A woman by the name of Stacey offered to let us stay on her 30 + acres to seek treatment.as it turns out she was trying to sucker us into renting a moldy trailer. Spring backed out of the trip & I cut my ties with her. For all I know she died in that house.
Stacey strung me along. Filled me full of lies & hope only to back out of her offer & try to make it look like I backed out. I called the doctor she claimed would hand me any meds I needed after only one visit only to be told that Stacey was a liar, as the receptionist put it.
I was forced to go see Shoemaker. I was told by Erik Johnson of the book “Mold Warriors” I was better off just skipping the Shoemaker autograph session for a nice Yucca tree in the desert. He was half right.
I got to see how self centered, uncaring & inhumane most of my family was towards me & my innless that seemingly no one had the pee brains to grasp whatsoever. It was like something out of the bible. Jobe + mold. Just add water.
As I was nearing the time to set up a date to see Shoe, I needed to borrow a grand from y aunt just to take off. She flip flopped between giving it to me & holding it over my head even though I explained that I will not get an appointment unless I paid the ridiculous (being indigent) records review fee (in which no effort was made by their office to obtain the records doctors were refusing me. I began to learn that dentists & doctors like to dodge moldies in regards to medical records for fear of malpractice or possibly being forced to testify), not to mention a donation to his research fund. $250 that insurance won’t cover.
The drive was one of hope. My hope was to prove the apartment just about killed me. It was bad enough St. Mary’s got away with covering up the Lyme bite. Even worse that a toxic tooth caught early could have saved my life & gotten me justice. I had to prove what Apartment #10 did to me.
I spent the night in a Walmart parking lot & arrived early to see Dr. Shoemaker. It was strange that he made a point to NOT have me take a nasal swab staph test even though his book demands it. The interview was more like me being on trial for raping baby apes & working for Osama than a quest for healing me.
Such comments as “Aren’t you a little old to be in school?” “Oh, it sounds like your riding the poor victim card!” “There is no medical proof mold exposure erodes gums.” He was sounding like the other 30 jerk offs in lab coats before I could blink. I was shocked at his half assed lazy attempt to figure out what was wrong with me by ignoring Dr. Croft & Dr. Pollen’s bioptic samples that I managed to muscle Strong Hospital into extracting after I wrote a letter to the CEO of the hospital in complaint to how the head of their Infectious Disease Unit rolled her eyes & tried to talk to me like a 5 year old with Downs Syndrome for even thinking mold could kill. She refused to even take any blood work from me. Her secretary knew more about mold than this doctor was admitting to. And after all that work Shoe went on a Dr. Croft is incompetent speal. His work does not hold up in court after one investigation 20 years + ago. Shoe was convinced it was Lyme, not mold & he discounted the rotten root canal 20 years brewing in my mouth to boot. He dismissed the mold samples. Refused to watch the videos of the shower mold. He ignored my pleas to personally request other medical records that many dentist & doctors were refusing to provide me personally. He even wanted more money if he was to prove a case. Some advocate for the sick indeed. It was as if I was in my own Wizard of Oz meets Into the Wild with a bit of Nightmare on Elm Street mixed in with a dash of Rod Sterling. I just could not win. Some more useless CSM & a superantibiotic were all I got. No LDN. No evidence supporting the damage from Clinton Street. I was devastated. I cried on & off through the rest of the trip to Slab City. Meeting Leonard Night from the film “Into The Wild”. Doctors, lawyers, dentists all failed me. Hopefully Leonard’s God had some answers. If only I listened. If only I kept faith.
I met some great people along the way. My car signs: Toxic Mold Silently Kills Over 500,000 people a year! Don’t Be The Next Victim. http://www.moldvideos.blogspot.com/ !” caught the attention of many. I’ve talked to so many people who had mold in the basement of their house & health issues that it was scary. Even some saleswoman who called me during this time wanted to know why her husband was so sick. Was it the mold I thought? You bet. Everywhere I go, more people pop out like me. Most want to avoid the truth & not the mold.
The long hard road to Slab City left me hungry & tired. I ended up in a small supermarket in Niland after 9pm. A gentleman by the name of Alan Hill introduced himself. He could tell I was not from the area. I spoke of my ills & reason for coming. He convinced me that night time was not a good time to roll into the Slabs. There were good people & cons. He invited me to cook my steak & have tacos with he, his wife & his cousin. It was a wonderful time. He gave me two special stones for good luck. I had one of them wrapped by a friend named Chance at the Slabs.
The next morning was coffee, a joint & the hope of a new life. Had I only been able to get past the burning smell of trash without being sickened.
I made quick friends with Texas Tom, & his side kick John. Old Tom lost his wife to cancer & now he had it. He helped look after me & show me the ropes. A young black boy of 16 became like my little brother. He needed a brotherly figure that was not a bad influence. He was a good kid but he just would follow me around from sunrise to sunset when I needed alone time due to my illness.
There is a coffee club called The Oasis that ended up being a neat place to hang out, smoke medical grade grass & get shade. I’ll try to cover some of the character during this part of the tale as far as their descriptions more in depth at the end of the story.
Moth: Drunken ADD hippie jester & frequent coffee shop hound. Moth hovers over the grass. He’s a hemp GPS tracker. Funny at times & annoying AT OTHERS.
“Michigan”: Nickname for Moths sidekick. As drunk as moth. There like Laurel & Hardy on hemp. Michigan keeps moth in line and has been known to punch him out when needed.
Texan Tom: A tough as nails cancer victim who’s wife just died of it. Tom looks like Uncle Jesse & he’s a shot gun toting Texan with a heart of gold.
John: Friend of Tom’s. Another good old true grit cowboy & displaced worker. John cuts wood, drink Thunderbird & puffs down. A good egg.
“Lil Brother”: Tom’s “adopted” grandson. Looks up to the Supertramp as a brother figure & follows him like a shadow. Street wise yet good at heart.
Hiere: A rocking hippy musician that dug my lyrics. We were going to write music but I feel I left prematurely.
Ron: A victim of abusive parents, Ron’s moods swing & he is a loner.
What I remember most is the big sun rising up to scorch out in your tracks. I found out bandanas under hats work well for ear protection. I was eating right but it was tough being around so many people. Many of them were great people. Wounded animals need their space.
I’d wake up; wash up, eat & get my meds come sunrise so I could make my way to the Oasis for coffee. There was this foxy volunteer with a sexy Russian accent that I loved to flirt with. The usual crew of 8-10 long timers were usually cracking jokes & smoking dope. It was a fun time. Many deep conversations had. Many brothers & sisters were made.
I enjoyed the concerts & wish I could have stayed there. The film could not do justice to the real experience of the Slabs. It is a special place.
I remember Lil Brother getting me all ripped one night & he had me convinced that Leonard smoked chronic off the bong & we had to pop by his crib to catch him a buzz. We wlked up the back of Salvation Mountain & rolled a joint for Leonard & made our way down to his truck house. When Lil Brother knocked on the door Leonard came out & said he was tired but we could hang out by the table. LB offered the J to Leonard, & he said “not tonight, It’s been a long day”. I was tying my shoe when a jacked up Toyota truck rolled up on me with his hi beams. He was Leonard’s security, helper around the mountain, so to speak. He was furious that we were possibly robbers, or worse. The kid duped me into thinking it was ok to be out there & I apologized to (I wish I Remembered names) ?Bob?.... As it turns out ?Bob? was from Rochester, NY (my home town) & he knew Mark Marianetti (a personal friend) when he worked to help the homeless in Rochester. Small world for sure. Who could have scripted this?
Getting to know Leonard was a special experience. He is a higher spiritual being than most can even pick up on. He was over my head & I thought I had some Mr. Mojo Risin’ at one time.
I was just scared, restless & bitter. I lost faith. Believing even Leonard was an obstacle soon to be realized. Time & time again Leonard warned me of the ills of toxic paint. Shouting like a preacher at a sermon “I never use TOXIC PAINT!!! It’s of the Devil!! Resist it! I only use non-toxic paint & so should you!” I was like …..RECORD SCRATCH……. Where is he going with this? Why is he telling me this? I had to convince Leonard that my car signs were concerning toxic mold & not paint. He needed Bob to help him understand that I was educating people about the evils of toxic mold. He then warmed up to me & we became good friends. I was prayed for many times.
“Lord Jesus, damn this mold back to hell & take the wicked that foster it with the in the name of Christ Almighty & bless this child.. Make him well. Heal his heat Lord. I beg!!!”
It was fun meeting all the people that pass through as tourists. I learned a great deal about this living legend just hanging out.
I was feeling a bit better, but growing restless. Missing Plattsburgh, my friends & loved ones. It was kind of scary being alone in a crowd. I loved the people there. It sucks that the pollution & wind deterred me from staying. I was also resisting the heat index. My ability to adjust to high heat, cold or quick changes in temperature have been bothersome.
I was so afraid of mold & toxins that I was too chicken to dip in the hot spring. This curse had taken the kid out of me. I was afraid to dip in some water, by God. I needed to just live & let live.
I kept up with people on Facebook. CB as I’ll call her was an elderly van dweller who got sick from mold & has been living in a van ever since. She invited me to Nevada on BLM land with her group the Van Dwellers. It sounded like a change of pace. I was so bored, restless & edgy that it seemed like a plan. I could always come back to Niland, I thought.
Texas Tom’s take on it was: “If you got running with her & that crowd you’ll lose everything. Don’t go son.” I scoffed at the thought. How could he know that? It seemed too over reactive of a response. After a month at the Slabs, I was ready for a new adventure.
As I turned right off the main road to the Slabs, something urged me…. That little voice we have…. The one that told me to run when Jerry Cellura was trying to kill me with the joy of cotton. It told me to PULL OVER & CALL NICOLE… The Hawaiian, Italian I fell head over heels for in 2001 while attending acting classes at Monroe Community College. I’ll never forget my first glance of her in the hall. That smile… Her spirit; it shown in her eyes. Loyal, giving, I saw it all in one glance. She caught me checking her out & said hi.
The next big hint to grow some gonads & ask her out came when she ended up in my acting class with my friend & director, Dave Smith. There were quite a bunch of characters in that class. My first skit was with some weird gay guy & it blew. I then did my own skit; reenacting me waking up in my underwear on a cold day up on the 5th floor or Grannies house. My wild & crazy black friend Rob went apeshit for the balls I had to do it & Nicole looked over & smiled. When I really like a woman, I seem to go too slow. She asked ME to do a scene with her?!? I was speechless that such a beautiful & gifted creature would ask me first. I was to chicken to ask her, that was for sure. We picked “A Streetcar Named Desire”… It was the scene with Blanche teasing Brandow’s character; the part where Marlin calls her on it & gets rough.
I can remember just about every time we were supposed to hang out, her dad would put here to work… We finally got to watch the movie & see the scene. Our chemistry was at a high level. If I only knew she was not serious with some guy she was dating that worked at a gas station, I would have pursued her more. I was afraid of the possible let down, like past experience. Nicole invited me out dancing, but I was not into dancing at the time & I could not figure out if she was asking me out or trying to set me up which was the usual case. I should have taken the hint.
I got discouraged over the many times our meet ups ended up not connecting. Things came up; she’d miss getting to my rehearsal after I waited around 45 + minutes. Her father would schedule her to work at his cleaning business at the last second. Part of me thought she was blowing me off.
I tried out for the play “Room Service” & landed the part of Dr. Glass; a German doctor that was hired by the hotel to oust a group of scam artists who were living at the hotel for free. It was a wonderful experience to work with Rob, Chris Hogan (a career student at 39) & many of the others in the play. Nicole came down to the lower dressing rooms to hang out. I was not fully aware that she was there to see me. Out of all those people? I was clueless.
I like to run after a show. Coming down from the high of being on stage is tough for me. Nicole stayed after the show & was hoping to see me. Bad timing has been my forte in this life. As the semester wore down, As Nicole & I walked around campus, I gave her a flower I’d picked. She spoke of visiting Hawaii for the summer & promised to be back for school in the fall. I was devastated. I had wanted so bad to tell her how I felt; yet would it matter? I’d probably get let down like all those times before. Deep down I was heartbroken. Hoping that she would in fact be back.
I ended up going over to Emmy’s trailer one night soon after only to get tweaked into dumping her vodka out which got me another false charge over her love of booze. I was hiding out from the cops at my dads house till things cooled. I did not return to college. Neither did Nicole. No word from her for six months & then an email. It was a long letter. She spoke of how wonderful this man she was friends with for years was. He told her everything she wanted to hear. He was very talented, funny, smart. “He reminds me much of you” was her wording. She married him at 19. I just about hit the floor. Devastated does not even describe it. I would have gotten down on one knee before she left & begged her to stay or take me with her. So much for second thought afterwards.
I never really connected with a woman like that. She was so easygoing. One in a million.
(Insert “10 Years In The Wind Lyrics”)
Here I was again. Older, wiser. I made the call. She answered. She was getting ready to move back to Hawaii soon. Her husband went back first to find work. He was drummer, & apparently she had been supporting him most of the marriage as he would not hold down a job. It seemed like more than that, but I left it alone. We planned on hanging out Saturday. I was going to leave the Slabs, hit Pahrump for a few days & then make the drive Friday for Orange County.
I planned to have a weekend for the movie script. And it was that & much more.
Act 6:
CB’ OCD, Made Me LSD 25
The Weekend To Remember
Set Up For A Let Down.
Vulcan Toxinal Mind Fuck.
To Hell With Salvation. It’s All A Lie!
Here Comes MY 19th Nervous Breakdown.
Toxic Paint Strikes Back
This chapter is a tall order. The further I get, the more this hurts like a scab that’s being ripped slowly.
It was a very scenic & windy ride to Parhump, Nevada. I loved the mountain view. Emailing Back & forth, CB & I met at the Walmart. We exchanged hugs & headed up Basin Ave. The Vandwellers were a mixed group. Some were sick & needed to heal. Others were recovering from cancer & needed open space. Others needed solitude. I was the extreme case of all of the above & was fooling myself if I thought I could handle the constant load of being in a group think tank. I had been alone in my car or tent for 6-7 months now. I had a routine that I was on. I needed the privacy I had on my dads 3 acres as the Slabs was too crowded for me. People sticking their nose in what I do, how I do it just irks me.
CB was the prime well meaning offender. The others mostly did their own thing & offered advice if I asked. Much of this was a good experience. But dealing with people so close in proximity when your this sick is a set up for disaster. People can’t be expected to understand this illness. They can’t imagine 2-3 years of weapons grade toxin does permanent damage & the extent of that damage is uncompreheseable. And by now I’ve heard every do gooder show their love & ignorance so well meaning that any new faces with the same lines drove me crackers.
So when CB started obsessively picking out things she thought I needed to do; like “Organize my already organized SUV”, it was more like do things like she would do them as if she was an authority on my life & what worked best for me. Little did she know I had reasons for having it set up like that which trying to explain it to her in a 45 minute lecture was more energy than I had with my frayed nerves. She kept nagging me 3-5 times a day & my walking away from her every time to drive to town to cool off never sunk into her head that she was sticking her nose & opinions where they did not belong. She seemed used to getting her way like my Grams & egg donor = just hound him, hop on his back like a monkey till he either leaves or gives in just to shut you up. By the 5th day of this I took some things out EVEN though my heart said leave now! Drive to the SLABS NOW! Heal up, go back to NY in May & finish those two semesters. She’s only going to get worse.
Ignoring my inner voice, I took some things out just to get her off my ass. Even though in three days I was going to the Slabs for a night which got me closer to Orange County. Even though it was completely dysfunctional & a waste of time to un pack just to re pack for no other reason than to get someone off your case. Even though I wanted the option to have my things with me so if I wanted to go on another trip I did not have to come back to Pahrump just to appease CB’s compulsion to micromanage.
After she got her way, the next thing was to obsess over wind direction. See, the tent she set up to bully me into unloading my car was getting wind whipped. CB decided my next round of orders was to move my SUV 6 directions to Sunday. The wind was blowing 360 degrees!!! She was nuts & driving me batty. I just wanted to spazz out & peel out, yet I held it in to be friends & keep the peace but she was really bothering me. I was too sick to deal with much more that eating sleeping & keeping clean.
Bob, Brian, Old Brian, Wayne, Katie & I had a wonderful meal the night before I left. I must pause to correct the average thought which might lean you to think this was a bad time. I was having a great time in many aspect meeting such great people. A wounded animal I was & many could not grasp the depth of it. I was seen with no limitations in a sense other than the mold.
Walking with Bob & Brian was cool. The both had cool dogs. Brian’s dog was a turtle assassin. He would flip them over & leave em’ for dead. It was kind of funny. Stella attacked 2-3 turtles in a day. Some were even attacked three times in a day!
I’ll run down the character list after this next beat in the storyline.
Act 6, Beat Two: The Weekend To Remember
It was another beautiful drive to the Slabs. I arrived by nightfall. Lil Brother popped out of thin air to say hi, just as some bully jumped out to wrestle him. It was like the desert version of the Christmas Story scene where the two bullies picked on the kids in the snow. This goons little brother was egging him on. “go get em Jed! Give him the sweaty arm pit! Make him lick your pit! You little pit lickin’ nigger! Lick that stink!!! Part of me wanted to stay out of it. The other part wanted no horseshit by my sleeping pod. I jumped out of the Element as Texas Tom slipped out of his trailer with a loaded shot gun ready to rock.
“Listen here you fat fucker & you little piss ant. I want you the fuck off my slab; the fuck away from my grandson & if I ever catch you stealing shit again. Don’t even give me your shit about denying it. You stole my sleeping bags you little pricks. I would have given them to you if you’d asked. Either way, if you want some of this then come get it. If not, kick rocks & never let me catch you.”
I chimed in: “Don’t shoot me Tom, it’s PJ.” I shook his hand & hugged him. “I’ve got a machete in my car & the next time this shit goes down I’m chopping heads! I’m half dead; certified crazy & the next motherfucker that comes by looking for trouble is going to get a close shave!”
They took off running like two rabbits in a hound hunt. “Where you boys going; we ain’t done talkin’ to you!?” Yelled Tom. A big laugh & a reunion of sorts. It was good to be home.
A good nights sleep followed by an early rise. Coffee, a few puffs, a few laughs at the Oasis & I was off the have the time of my life. Another road warrior drive led me to Orange County & Walmart. I found out not all Walmarts are the same. No parking over night in Orange County. This was going to be an issue because I was dead tired from the ride. I called Nicole to apologize for the issue. She was out on the town with friends, & wanted an excuse to leave anyways. It took her longer than expected. When she finally arrived I was shocked that she was prettier than before. How could it be? I was eager to get back to the place she was staying at; her husbands ex bandmates family had a split house setup. It was beautiful. I kicked back, did a few shots of Tequila & tried to rest. Nicole went to shower in the other section of the house. When she came back, it was my turn to shower. I needed it. Baby wipe baths work, but as much as showers scare me now, I miss a hot shower.
We hung out & talked for hours. It was late by the time we went to bed. I could not sleep. The booze kept me up as did the oddity of sleeping in a house again. It was like I was keeping post for when the mold colony tried to hop out & fuck me one more time. Call me crazy till you live it.
By the time I dragged myself out of bed Nicole was making breakfast. She was such a home maker. She asked me how I slept & I told her not so good. The booze kept me up as well as the shock of sleeping indoors after so long. She shown a look as if she was thinking: “Oh my God Pete, what has this done to you?” More than you could imagine… More than anyone could know.
We kinda lolly gagged. Got coffee & hit the grocery store. I felt domesticated overnight all over again. It was like we were right on with this plan on the fly. Fruit, scallops, shrimp, spinach, mixed veggies. We thought alike. I thought to myself: “This is so effortless. I could have been in bliss the past 9 years with this woman. What a cool chick.” We were off. Rocking to a set list of The Who, Zep, Sabbbath, G ‘n’ R, Some of my songs, Journey, Ozzy, VR, just scratched the surface of the 20+ songs I sang to her dead on with all my spirit. I sang to her like no other. I never in my life had sung like that to anyone. The ride to Niland was a rocking tour de force of good music, great vibes & unconditional love. I had fallen smack dab in love of the moment.
Arriving at some hot spa, we decided to skip it for the Slabs. The next stop was the Salton Sea. One of the most polluted seas I’ve seen. The water is green; dead fish wash up on the shore to tell a tale of greeds grip on the ecosystem. I was getting a reaction to the air.
We took some great pics & bounced off to Slab City. Parking in my old spot to see Li Brother running up was a cool feeling. I introduced them. LB was grinning at her beauty. We looked at each other & agreed without words on her spirit & beauty. Guys do that from time to time.
We made our way to Leonard’s Mountain. Hopping & skipping like kids, we held hands long enough to help her over some of the terrain. Snapping pics & taking video all the way.
“All ya need is love, love. Love is all you need.” She sang as we skipped down the yellow brick road.
I was eager to introduce my two friends to each other for the first time. As soon as Leonard saw me, he stopped his whole tour. He apologized, but he just had to speak with the Toxic Mold Supertramp, as he put it.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come back so I could talk to you.” We had a heart to heart of proportions that blew the doors off his role in the movie. Nicole was speechless. I had to motion her to record the rest of it on this windy day.
We got our own special tour. Most of the pics are on my facebook. We had our fun, but it was a longer ride than expected. Heading out I had forgotten to fill up. Having skipped the Slabs hot spring due to nudity before heading out, we pulled over to the road that the spa was on because I realized I was running on E. Nicole called triple A for a 7 gallon fill up. I told her we needed to eat. She was kind of wonder how I was going to pull it off. A tailgate chef I was. It was one of the best spreads I’ve cooked. “I’d make someone a good little bitch if I was healthy.”, was returned with “I’d snag you up in a heartbeat if I was single.”; shot back with me saying “keep my resume on file.”
The driver came & we had some good conversation. He thought we were married & made a great pair. “Don’t I wish. But I missed the bus ten years ago.” I joked.
Wore out from the day, I slept in the drive way. Her friends mother was back home so there would be no sleeping in the house for me which meant good sleep. I got up & the lady of the house invited me in. Another great breakfast, & as I was ready to leave she asked me to stay for
church. I gave it a shot.
Like most organized religions these days, its pyramid money game. Those coming in pay a percentage of their earnings for the right to be there. When someone of my hardships comes by & speaks of it one would think unconditional help of some sort might be in order. Well, that would cut into their bottom line.
It was great just to sit next to her. I felt privileged to be in her presence. I could not help but noticing how beautiful she was inside & out. We headed back to her apartment & decided on lunch at the shopping strip. Chinese it was. All good things come to an end though. As I dropped her off we shared an awkward hug. This is most likely the last time I'll ever see the woman of my dreams. The one I would have traded the other 30 for. Gone forever. Another data file stored in the mistake pile of broken dreams. Any God of mercy would just zap me in the ass with a lighting bolt & get it over with.
The long drive back to the Slabs for a good rest left me solemn. Another self-defeat relived. This whole life seemed a fox & the grapes failure. That’s my best analogy.
I came to the realization of why coyotes howl before dawn. They woke up cold & alone.
Act 6: Beat 3
Set Up For A Let Down
“She’s got a smile that seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
Where everything was as fresh as a bright blue sky
Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place
Where as a child I’d hide
And pray for the thunder & the rain
To quietly pass me by”
Sweet Child
Guns ‘n’ Roses
I dreamed myself into believing that was the date we always missed connecting on 10 years ago. Ten Years In The Wind was a song I wrote reflecting on such topics. I let reality hit me tomorrow; for now that would have been the date of my life.
Back at the Slabs felt like home. Moth & the rest of the group at the Oasis said as much.” You’ve got a family here. Moth proclaimed. We will find you a shady spot where you are safe.” For some reason (besides some of my stuff being in Nevada) I declined for now, yet thanked them all for their friendships. I liked having a Walmart down the street. Little did I know how much my conception of the town would change after time elapsed.
(Insert Herximer Effect Definition)
(Inset Beatles Fool on th Hill)
Having too much time to think……..
Having many regrets..
Pissing blood & shitting it too..
Can give you the sweats……..
The people just don’t grasp its crippling effects…
Which frustrates the hell out of moldies, lymies, & toxic root canal victims however indirect!
As the CSM was ripping the toxins out of me, the total avoidance was releasing biotoxins from my fat cells at high rates. If I had the ability to actually read Mold Warriors at the time I would have realized that when detoxing you need to be careful. Too fast of a toxin dump & your brains turn to mush; you body takes more abuse than needed; you get weird thoughts ideas & think your getting worse. After a year of this insanity added to the reality of how things may only get worse, multiplied by my longing for a normal life it was quite a Greek Tragedy once you mix in the love element.
I was getting restless. Feeling better in ways, but afraid I’d never be able to live indoors again. Rightfully afraid of mold due to the Pavlovian conditioning of intense pain, systemic damage, the effect of my dental appearance (cops ask me if I shoot up / people look at me like a freak when I smile) on my self image & many other things was driving me mad. Had I known enough, I would have begged Dr. Shoemaker for some Actos, as he usually prescribes it to help with “Herxing”. Going from healthy to some almost comic book like super hero with the sense to detect toxins like an animal is not as cool as it might sound. Toxins abound the planet far more readily than Kryptonite. Spiderman got bit & he climb walls & sense danger. I never hear about his teeth falling out. Toxic Mold is even being sprayed along with many other toxins in order to seed clouds to increase rain in such places as the desert is the excuse most have for a world wide effort to chem trail (Google: Chem Trails contain Toxic Mold).
The pressure to figure out the rest of my life because it was someone else’s compulsion was wearing me thin. I could not see past today. I still can’t…… Even more so now due to my next biotoxin induced meltdown.
A few weeks went by & I heard back from Nicole that husband Jesse had not called, emailed, or even texted her yet. She was getting worried. I don’t know if the word got back to him about our vacation weekend via third party (the church = ? the family she was living with?) or not but she was not as stoked to hang out again as she was when we last said goodbye.
Days later, I get an apology for her not getting back to me. As it turns out Jesse recently texted her stating the marriage was over. “He does not love her & never did” was the tamest of the quotes. I told her how I felt about her finally & wished her the best but when she asked me how to win him back I just about died inside. Me; help HER win back a guy that’s mooched off her since day one!?!?! Me; sickly me.. A man who loved her at first glance is now in charge of rubbing fate in his own face to help. I just cracked like Humpty Dumpty.
I cried myself silly. Cursed God, the Devil & the world. I ended up getting a bottle of gin the size of Texans & proceeded to Gin & Tonic myself into Dummysville. That night I gave up on God, hope, healing, justice, love. I even defaced a card Leonard gave to me out of my anger towards God. Small captions of anger filled venom was my biggest mistake since the letter to Emmy that landed me a tic bite. I manifested so much anger once again that the after shock leaves me speechless to this day. I should have never doubted Leonard. Heeded his word, I should have. Texas Tom was dead on in his prophecy as well, so you soon shall see. Waking up still loaded, I was froggy; ready to jump. Restless, jittery, & now full of booze toxin which in my opinion was the third straw on this camel after my back broke beforehand.
My hope was having a project like making a moped from a kit would keep me occupied enough, yet once a delay occurred over a carburetor being the wrong model I got a scrambled egg head idea. I hated the baby food brown show all dirt interior of the new Honda Element as much as the cheap seats & no moon roof. My mind was fighting the idea. It was like I had “Reason” & “Lunacy” arguing in my head about going to the dollar store to get black paint to spray the inside of the door panels. As a man turned zombie brain over toxin withdrawal the whole idea sounded like a good one. Had this fool read Mold Warriors both the ammonia Dr. Croft was wrongfully telling moldies to bathe in & paint exposure were deadly to hypothalmically damaged individuals such as myself.
It looked cool after I did it, but just a small duration of exposure & my gums were burning; teeth buzzing; nasal passage burning that tell tale scorch & I was having a delirious headache like no other. I spent over a week in a tent pissing blood. I could not move, let alone eat. My body was hammered. My spirit was crushed. All hope was lost. I cried for weeks. I wake up to this day hoping it was just a nightmare. It made me remember a dream I had one night in my Orange 05 Honda. I was driving a grey Element balls to the wall with the inner feeling of this being the last trip of this life. A lost cause mission of defeat.
Life was made much harder. My health dipped to a new low & my sensitivities hit new levels of torture . Walking into the library the air was thick as pea soup with toxins. The mold toxin was abound. Just imagine every damp spore trap trailer equipped with a Hitler approved swamp cooler which produces enough T-2 biotoxin to kill an unsuspecting person. I could smell every spore & their toxins were now ripping me up. It did not stop there because the chemicals they washed the rugs with was blasting up my sinuses & shattering my nervous system with pain. Making it added hell the EMI’s; chemicals emitting from the conduction of electrical current through a computer gives an off gas of toxins that normal immune systems can manage. Not a triple nuked biotoxin magnet like P.J. Supertramp. For me it’s a killer. Even the three people with perfume one were bothering me. It was like having someone dump perfume in your sinuses. It was that strong of a smell to me. I ran out of the library in a pained stupor, making my way to the Walmart strip. While passing Doty’s nearly 200 feet from me a mans cigar was so pungent in my nostrils I felt like he was blowing it in my face inside a closet. I kid you not. The car exhaust was bowling me over. The whole world became deadly to me. My cycotine response was at a higher, more deadly proportion that I could have ever hoped to live though.
Many of the Vandwellers tried to help me shrug it off & move on. They did not understand how sick that paint made me, nor how much a clean un-contaminated vehicle means to a moldie. Katie took me on a jaunt to find a van. We looked at at least 10 of them & they were all mold farms. The spongy mat laying under a floor mat makes a moisture trap. Every van was heavily spored. I was even more floored. The Vandwellers were leaving. First CB, then Brian (s), the list went on. I was going to get the solitude I needed, but without the Element (as much as I hated the 09 version compared to the 05) life was becoming unlivable. I prayed to sleep & never wake up, & cursed every sunrise as my sanity shredded to pieces.
I tried getting my moped going. I needed help after Young Brian left. This fellow named Don was a few spots over. He had declined CB’s invitation to join the group. I later learned he got a vibe over CB’s pushy behavior that I should have learned picked up on faster & adjusted. After weeks of trying to get the bastard going, it ran… then conked….. VROOOMMPAPAPAPPAOOPUUUHHH…… dead.. It fell apart in more places than I knew it had places to fall apart from. I’d fix the front tire… Fill it up with air & the back would go flat. Fix the back; you guessed it. This losing streak of mine was the only thing I could count on.
As Don was leaving in June for a summer job, his friend Steve from the crew that hangs at Port Of Subs became a mentor of sorts. Steve was a 30 year vet of camping outdoors. He also liked drinking water from places like Mount Shasta. I kept trying to get it through to Steve how crazy drinking water from anywhere like that due to the toxins on the planet, let alone the microbes. As smart as Steve is, he is twice as stubborn & only sees his point of view; his hypothesis; his science, etc. Steve identified his illness as Morgellons (Google it). The thing is, the more I got to know Steve……. the more we hung out….. the more MOLD / LYME illness screamed at me like a ghostly whisper. Every place I’ve been from NY to Cali to NV people were falling victim to this. It’s like they find me, or I find them?
I call Steve Buddha Steve. He enjoys his solitude 8 miles up Basin & shooting his guns. At 68 he is in better shape than I am now. We would drink coffee at Subway, Albertsons, Port Of Subs & talk politics, science, etc. Steve was filling me in on such things as chem trails, the Bildeberg Group, The New World Order, Population Control, 911 Being An Inside Job, & so on. Don, Glen, & Steve basically had done tons of research into the root causes of many illnesses; both mental & physical. It was all so for reaching… So diabolical… So undeniable after I did my own research that it all falls in line with something Dr. Croft told me back in October of 2009: “The reason for the world (insurance industry, Big Pharm, CDC) push to silence mold / biotoxin victims is based on sheer greed, evil & population control. A 25% reduction of a group genetically geared towards mold illness makes us an easy mark to meet their quotas. “ Biotoxin survivors living to share their nightmares with a world audience like Youtube, Facebook or a blog is the last thing any of these Devil Worshipping Motherfuckers (as Steve would say) want. We are worth more to them sick & dying than alive. Think of all the pin pills, anti-psyche drugs, operations, kemo getting handed out to biotoxin victims when the root cause is being ignored. V’s mom Ruth was chronically fatigued, had gotten cancer, & was off her rocker… All due to mold toxin. Think of what a 6 month blood test from Dr. Shoemaker’s protocol for testing would have done for Ruth 15 years + ago when she first stepped into that death house. Think of what it could have done for me , my mother, aunt, father, friend Sujei!!!
The truth is, the profit made from biotoxins damage is far more than what it costs to prevent it in the first place. It’s a Sick For Profit design. I realize it sounds like a James Bond script: a big evil secret group of bankers, CEOs & political puppets dancing around a huge owl sculpture of Molog (another nickname for Satan) while chanting naked & making a mock burnt sacrificial offer to their God in trade for all the worldly wishes they could ask for. How many times have I heard of biotoxin victims being locked up in the booby hatch for sharing their symptoms to a doctor? It’s as common as handing out penicillin for a sinus infection when 80% of sinus infections are fungally based. Your given fungus to kill fungus? Little did I know as a child that my mom was hammering my immune system every time I got a sinus cold.
The entire design is profit driven. Put enough toxins, preservatives & sugar as you can to everyone long enough; sprinkle some super Mold Spores, Mercury, Aluminum, Barium (to name a few) in a chem trail cocktail with a few drops of fluoride in your water & toothpaste & your on you way to becoming another sick patient to sell expensive pills, operations & “treatments” to till you eventually die from the root cause of the illness or the pills. Just hopefully for the rich with stock in corporate dope; not until they’ve cleaned your savings account dry by the time you’re a cadaver. Call me crazy. Call me a conspiracy theorist. Until I stumbled to CVPH Hospital for help; until I had 20+ doctors & dentists mock me for saying the mold, lyme & tooth were killing me; until a mold inspection company, a doctor (s), a landlord, a code inspector, the Attorney General, a Senator or 12; only until all these avenues a naïve person would think to ask for help ended up with a slammed the door in my face like I was a Jew escaped from an interment camp knocking on doors for help only to get beat with a broom & ratted out to the Gestapo . How many doctors will help you for free, or help you period if you’re a mold victim? Good luck on that one. Insurance policies have strings for doctors that push them away from helping us. Their lawyers hate it when well intended doctors testify for biotoxin victims. The truth hurts their wallets, so the next best move for them is to use their creativity to harass, threaten, intimidate & even have doctors investigated as a means of scaring the populous of healers that took a sacred oath. Many doctors have been removed from practice thanks to a big effort from a mold defense teams dirty pool.
The insurance industry basically tells doctors how to run their practice. They have been told that anyone matching the amount of symptoms a typical biotoxin victim reports is to be labeled 5150 (it helps insurance goon lawyers take the credibility out of people like us) & warn other doctors & staff that this person is a faker nut case. Like 500,000 people a year dream up tooth loss, gum loss, organ pain, weakness, arthritis & so on for fun!?!?!? If anyone thinks I shit blood for 8 months out of a fetish for it can please go to hell. I’m sick of the moronic inability for the average person to grasp what an epidemic we have here. Once the biotoxins have beaten your body down, now pop up all these food related issues. We have this mass produced industrial level of food being delivered to the masses with shelf life, appearance, & profit taking over for healthiness. A burger you eat at a fast food joint is usually a year old by the time you eat it. If you can’t spell it, then it’s not good for you. Every additive, sugar, high fructose corn syrup. `
Dentists tell you to limit sugars as the TV spews pop commercials. Fast food character aimed at feeding kids silicon laden soy burgers abound. Doctors might tell you to adjust your diet as they fill you out a script for Zoloft when you need a VCS test! Braces were all the rage growing up as were the root canals & mercury filling that come with these microbe magnets. Let’s face it; you dentist help the orthodontist & he in turn send back a person with enough cavitized molars to start his sons college fund! A nice seed of cotton in the packing makes a cool gift for an infectious disease team to ponder over. It was pathetic trying to explain to a 25 year veteran of infectious disease, & immunology how a root canal can harbor microbes due in part to a lack of blood going to the tooth.
None of this seemed imaginable 4 years ago. How a group of people can dictate such an elaborate hegemony of the masses physical health with propagandatized educational systems dumming doctors away from true healing for a paycheck & a zipped lip when it comes to such things sickens me to be human. Dentists handing out deadly root canals for the sheer profit of it when an antibiotic, a pulled tooth or an implant would be the safe bet. Most tooth pain results from infection. If you’re a brace face, chances are keeping your teeth clean is tough.
Basically were being weeded down by chem trails, pollution, preservatives, hormones (in meat), GMO foods, deadly dental procedures & a lack of true health education from the grade school level up. When you look across the whole landscape & see the entire picture it can only scream to you: “its by design!”.
Call the Health Department & tell them you r dying from toxic mold in your apartment & see if they will come in & take accurate samples, or tell you it’s not their department. Get bounced around every government agency only to see them all start to collectively stick up for your landlord & try to make YOU out to be the bad person. Only then can you see how over time, study, & living it did I realize we are just cattle with debit cards to the conglomerates that cover up these crimes.
Dr. Croft had one other thing right; raise awareness. Shout it out loud. Try to show those with biotoxin symptoms who are blind to their exposure where, how & why they are sick. It’s a tough fight de-brainwashing people from thinking tic bites & mold are childs play. It’s even harder convincing them of the wide ranging health & diet effects resulting from exposure. If I had $1 for every person I’ve had label me a loon for telling them to toss their possessions because they might as well be labeled radioactive & they laugh. Well, then in 3-6 months I get a desperate email. By that time they could be a lost cause.
Steve & I basically just try to inform the public about what’s going on behind the curtain so to speak. We have met some really informed people in Pahrump, Nevada. We have also been investigated, harassed, targeted by Walmart, Alberstons, to name a few for speaking up about such truths. Many of the police even know about the Bildeberg Group, toxic mold, chem trails & the heroin trade in the US being propagated by the CIA (a Sheriff from the DARE team went on records as being aware of this).
Exposing these bastards has kept me going. It’s all I have left. I doubt the laws, courts, or doctors will ease up on turning a blind eye while biotoxin victims die anytime soon. There’s no profit in it.
As I sit here in my tepee tent getting rained on I pray for those yet stricken. The soon to be victims. The ones that rolled their eyes at me; made jokes of my science base only to expose their ignorance. To you my heart goes out earnestly. I wish someone bought me Mold Warriors in 2005 & made me read it. I might still be healthy & free from this curse from hell. This is exactly why I’m writing this. In hope that you the reader get it sooner than I did. My entire life was spent learning too late & now I’m dying too soon because of my ignorance. An ignorance fostered by a system invented by a rich group of around 6,000 greedy inter married super rich.
Hitler would be taking notes on his Droid if he were around to see how well the bankers / super rich took some of his tactics & infused them into the worlds subcultures to divide & conquer the world by making us as ignorant & dependent on their system as possible. I wake up cold in a tent longing to be a blind Lemming again in a warm bed with my tunes on & a meal in the oven.
Basically, I spent the whole summer running down a mountain at sunup just to find shade & a swim in the pool. This led me to association with many of the areas homeless, who in turn make me look bad by association. Many of them make more in a day bumming change than those that work earn. It’s ended up being a weird town. I’ve seen it all here. From toxic mold at the court house to big fat drunks laying in the road for attention. I even had Hedi Fliess follow me into Albertons to harass me!
STATION IDENTIFICATION: Intermittent breaks in the story which change the pace, or offer more in depth insight. Or, I just might drop a Dear Diary in there like they do in the movies!!
A brief pause in the story. Captains Log: December 19, 2010. It’s rained for 4 days almost non stop. My base camp is a disaster. My laundry has been rained on for 3 days. I’ve been stuck in the same jeans for 4 days. Thank goodness for baby wipe baths! I’ve got enough water for today & a bit of fruit left over from last night. I’m almost out of propane to keep warm & cook with. Other than that, this roughing it stuff is for the birds.
I’m trying to get into the aspect of me now being a “Mold Medium” of sorts. Laugh while you can. I’ll speak of those souls afflicted by mold that I either was related to, friends with, or even a stranger on the other line trying to sell insurance. It’s that far spanning & impossible for me to deny or avoid now that I have the curse.
