Amazing

        As I sit here and watch her sleep,(which is unfortunately becoming the norm) I wonder what is going through her head as we prepare for yet another surgical procedure tomorrow morning. Since September when the bladder stone was removed,this is the third,and second in the past 30 days. 6 operations in 2025. Five of them on this damn fistula. When we were at the last surgery,I asked once again how many people have to go through multiple procedures in order to have a fully functional connection. I was told once again,that it’s not “uncommon”. That tells me absolutely nothing. I was also told that Karen’s overall vascular health plays a factor in the multiple failures she’s endured.

     I am utterly amazed at just how gracefully she handles the rigors of dialysis and multiple operations and unclear answers and worries of an unknown future. However,juxtapose that with the utter hopelessness I sometimes see in her face when she’s laying in bed after dialysis,wondering when or if her life will regain any form of normalcy. I don’t force her to express her feelings,all I have to do is look at her and I know that my patience, support,and encouragement,as well as my unconditional love sometimes just can’t be enough to lift her spirits. I absolutely cannot blame her for feeling that way sometimes. She told me the other day “Papa,it’s either these 4 hotel walls or dialysis,it’s driving me crazy” What can I say to that? She’s absolutely right. It’s now been 15 months since we took the last look at our home on the way to the temporary housing lifestyle we never thought we’d still be living in now. I don’t and never will understand why my wife,who worked full time from High School until 2015,32 years,and caring for her Mom with no help,gets told in her most dire time of need and critical illness that not only does she have to wait for a home that she has to partially pay for,but not being in a home precludes her from receiving organs she needs that could potentially save her life.

      The powers that be were aware of her situation before we even moved out of our home. Due diligence was done by me every single day,exploring each and every option that is supposed to be available to people like my wife,who never hurt anyone, never committed a crime, always paid her taxes,and never asked for any help from the government until she got too sick to not to ask. Dozens of applications for housing sent in with documentation that had every I dotted and every T crossed,sitting in a pile on a desk until someone decides it’s important enough to be dealt with. In the meantime, a light finally turns on to illuminate what is hopefully a bright future,a chance at a new existence,an opportunity to feel normal again,14 months later. Then the government decides to shut down,delaying not only that progress,but also the very resources we depend on just to stay alive while we fight these battles. Isn’t it enough of a fight to try and mitigate multiple critical and life threatening illnesses? I wonder everyday how many people die because their paperwork was ignored,or had nobody who cared enough to advocate for them in their most dire time of need?

     I’m not going to allow my wife to become a statistic. My will to get us to the next level,though weary,shaken,and terrifying,is always alive and well and doing whatever I can to push this process forward,while keeping Karen as healthy and peaceful as she can be. In my private moments,I crumble. I cry. I’m plagued with never ending intense anxiety. Then I move forward. Yes,you’ve all told me I have to care for myself, and I promise you that I’m trying,but my focus is razor sharp and unbreakable. I’ll find time to collapse when we get to the next step. Until then,every minute of each day is consumed with problem solving,expediting appointments,coordinating medications,diets,protocols,and activities of daily living. This is my duty not just as a husband,but as someone whose heart won’t allow him to slack off even for a second. Time is precious,and I can’t afford to waste a second.

      So,family,I ask you to pray for us today. I pray that this will be the last time Karen has to be wheeled into an operating room until the possible day she receives the liver and kidney she needs to enjoy the life she deserves more than I do,more than most people do. She’s suffered enough. Knowing that we will be in this damn hotel for a second Thanksgiving (which is also her birthday) is soul crushing. Yes, in my rush to attempt to stand on our own, I halted the fundraiser. For this week, I ask for any assistance that you might be able to give in order to provide fuel to ease the burden I’m feeling pressing on every part of my brain. I apologize profusely for yet another request. I only want Karen to not worry about one aspect of her life,and maybe even possibly enjoy her Birthday, because Lord knows she has more than earned that right. She has paid her fair share of sacrifice and heartache. Something extremely cruel happened yesterday. One of her siblings was in the area for an appointment,and not only did this person (who lives an hour away) not call to ask to see Karen,they called yesterday to tell her they DROVE BY THE HOUSE THAT THEY FORCED HER OUT OF. Not only that,took pictures of what it looks like now and SENT THEM TO HER. Can anyone read a room??? What would make this person think that Karen would want to see the home she lived in for 47 years now,when she misses it so terribly and is at the lowest point of her life???? Thank you all who send encouragement and prayers and well wishes,and for being there. We wouldn’t be here without it. I’ll let you know when Karen is out of surgery. Thank you for reading.

BRIAN

CASHAPP $BFN73

PAYPAL BN11473@GMAIL.COM OR BRIAN NEAREY

VENMO KAREN-NEAREY-1 (Send to the one that has Scootie’s photo)

Or DM me for any questions on anything.