WHEN DEATH COMES A CALLIN'

As I had previously blogged, the lady who lives (now dying) in the apartment directly below me, is dying of cancer.

A couple of nights ago about 11:00 PM while I was watching TV, I heard this loud howling. At first I had thought of a wolf or something, but I had heard this call, I believe several weeks ago. I listened with intent as I made my way to my open living room and then bedroom windows. I heard her caretaker daughter and son talking to her in a stern voice. No sympathy in their voices heard. They are white trash people so for me, this wasn't a surprise. She was hollering and howling with pain. This lasted 20 minutes. In the meantime, the son was feverishly calling the doctor, trying to get to talk to him on the phone. On a holiday weekend, this was impossible. He said something to the effect that he was her son and if he doesn't talk to the doctor, she may die. I then heard the daughter say that the mother said I love you so and so. I couldn't hear the name, but I'm assuming it was some dead relative she was calling too. Too eerie for me.

The next morning, I believe they took her to the hospital because both their cars were gone when I took an early walk on the bike/hike path. But then again, did they? I still heard her oxygen tank, whoom, whoom, whooming, a noise I hear, last thing at night and first thing in the morning in my bedroom, but wouldn't want to hear it in their apartment, because it's bad enough in my apartment.

I don't give her too much time. I guess she's only conscious maybe an hour throughout the whole day. What a way to die, but not surprising because she's the one that put me in the emergency room for a day with respirators, shots, tests because her constant smoking rising up into my apartment. For sure, I was going to go down with her, but fortunately, she got cancer about nine months after I moved in, could not use my patio or open my doors or windows, but still smelled the stench even though I asked her very nicely to close her doors and windows when she smoked. She said, "I'll think about it." So you can see how I don't have any sympathy, empathy or any sorry feelings at all for this person. The sooner the better she's gone and her white trash loud mouthed, banging kids who are going to do anything, any way, any how the way they want to. That's how this level of trash operates.

If it were anybody else, I'd feel very sorry for them. It's so depressing here that my dreams of shopping for my dress I'll wear in my coffin is so crazy, this place is affecting me physically, mentally and emotionally.

I asked the manager if she should be in a hospital. She said no. So I'm living here with the dead and nearly dead.

I have lowered the price on my ranch to sell it, but no luck, nothing is selling. I've been thinking of storing my furniture I have here and living in my van or under a bridge. Perhaps on the bike path. Didn't I tell you I was being affected mentally? How crazy is this? How crazy am I getting? Every time I hear a fire truck or ambulance going around our circle of apartments to pick up some dying or sick person, I hope they stop in front of ours and pick her up in a body bag.

Yes, I know I seem VERY VERY cruel. This is not me. I do have a lot of empathy for sick and old people or animals, but this has put me through hell. She probably is still trying to take me down with her and I'll say she's doing a pretty good job of it.

So I say DIE BITCH, DIE!!!