Journal Entries
I don't like this atall.
Posted Aug 11, 2006
Werl... I've better weeks, I must admit
Frankly, I've had better years if I'm honest.
This rather twee theory that once you've had a run of Bad Luck it must mean that after a while Life evens things up and you get a run of Good Luck is not actually happening
Sure, you make your own luck - and I've grabbed every opportunity I can see to ensure Stuff happens. But unfortunately, there seems to be less and less Good Stuff to grab - and an unlimited amount of Sh*te happening.
O-K
I've already mentioned that I'm in a spot of bother with the Local Council - they're the bods that pay my Housing Benefit. It's my own fault, I suppose, because I didn't let them know immediately, if not sooner, that Eldest had started work and was earning a pathetic pittance of a wage as a Kitchen Worker.
There were several reasens -
1) To begin with, we weren't sure if it'd be permanent, Kitchen work being notoriously casual and seasonal
2) Its my name on the Housing Benefit agreement, and on the tenancy agreement, so therefore *my* income has not been altered
and 3) I've discovered that, whoops, the painkillers I'm on not only have caused the brain to work a lot slower than it used to, it has banjaxed the *awareness that the brain is cream cheese, and although it was one of those jobs I've been meaning to do - telling the Council, that is - I never got around to it. I simply haven't had that many "good" days, and frankly, when I *do have good days I tend to either catch up on housework or actually go out and have a bit of a Life.
(I know; Fun is not something I'm technically supposed to have, but hell, I'm human; I certainly don't spend a lot on a social life, because I make sure the bills are paid first. I may be a bit late - but they're all paid eventually)
Oh yes - and my rent was increased last October. No problem. But the Council didn't increase my rent allowance (by a paltry 8 quid towards a £25 increase) until April of this year - so for six months I was out of pocket. And no, I didn't get the blasted thing backdated, either. The council only do their adjusting "once a year".
It's the Rules, apparently. There is No Appeal I was told. Take it up with Mr Brown or Mr Prescott - we're only humble Local Government, enforcing Central Government's rules. You can't blame Us.
I don't "blame" anyone. Life's got lumps - but I am a tad sick of getting more than my fair share of the dirty things.
I managed, I coped, but about 5 or 6 weeks ago, one of the Housing Benefit Officials came round to inspect my rent book and ask about any changes. Like a dodo I mentioned my son had begun work.
And I was asuured that there would be no problems now that I'd explained why I hadn't mentioned it sooner - for the reasens I've already stated.
Like Hell!
On checking my bankstatement I find that the following week my Housing Benefit had been stopped. There were no letters or phone calls telling me what was happening, and neither were there any communication telling me that I hadn't provided enough evidence of earnings.
It just Stopped.
And will remain suspended until their Investigation is complete. Which I find can be up to 2 months after my interview - which was Tuesday just gone.
And at this interview I was assured that their decision "wouldn't take long" and they were satisfied my reasens were true, if a little muddled. Mitigating Circumstances and all that.
Today my Landlady called on me.
A real live visit by a real live landlady - who isn't best pleased that I'm behind in my rent and appear to have no means of paying for a couple of months
Except for my son, bless him, who is getting as much work as he possibly can do to get us out of Thingy Creek and find the means to hire us a paddle to get us out of the situation.
Like I said, Kitchen work is notoriously insecure and badly paid, so there's no guarantee the poor kid can *get extra shifts. It's great he's willing to take on responsibilities like this; But it's complete role reversal - he's taking on "my" duties. Very laudable. What annoys me is that Central Governemnt assumes all adult children *will do this - when in actual fact, its only a moral obligation, based on respect and love for their parent, and *not a legal obligation. After all, it's *my name on the contracts, and not his.
He's looking for a better paid job - but again, if his wage increases then he simply has a proportionate amount of contributions to make, so he too is stuffed.
And I feel impotent and helpless because there is no way I can actually work due to a lousy spine and an infinate amount of pain. And there's no hope of a cure - just poor pain relief. And stress, stress, stress - I don't care *how relaxed I feel about the situation, lets face it, it isn't going to go away, no matter how calm I feel about it.
(So I may not live longer than the rest of you - but it's going to *feel like I am doing)
Anyway, to cut a long story short, Mrs Landlady listened to what I had to say, checked my paperwork, and says she'll put pressure on the Benefits Department to get their fingers out, and tell them if she doesn't get her rent on time it's me for eviction
In the meantime, I'm to pay off as much of the rent as I can as frequently as I can, and tell the Council the same story. As long as she sees I'm showing willing, I'm safe. For the time being, anyway.
She also suggested that I change the tenancy with her to Joint Tenancy with the Eldest. That way, when (and if) I ever get rehoused by the council, he has a safe home to live in.
I'm not sure if he'd be willing to share with his brother, but the youngest could have a home with me if needs be until he gets sick of a poor atandard of living, (which he is already) and Foxtrot Oscars off.
Although he's a dead weight; and despite the fact there's only 15 months between them in age, Youngest is a very VERY immature 17 yr old.
I didn't christen him Kevin, but I might have well have done.
Mrs Landlady's being extremely reasenable in the circs - fair enough, she wants whats due to her, but at least she has the decency to accept my explanations and give me a small amount of breathing space.
On the plus side, due to a lot of belt tugging, I am confident I can get totally up to date with the rent by the due date this month - and not to the detriment of paying the utilities, thank god. If I don't eat, then I reckon I can just about manage.
And no, I'm *not being satirical. I'll scrounge the kids leftovers and drink lots of tea. I've done it before, when they were very little, and I'll just have to do it again for a while.
On the minus side, unless the Council makes its decision rapid, short of the Eldest working himself into the ground, I haven't much hope of managing for much longer.
And, ironically enough, because of the piankillers and their cumulitive effects I was beginning to relax and began to gradually improve. Very slow improvement, but I wasn't in as much pain, because I was finally physically relaxing. Because I wasn't aware of how serious and potentially "down the slippery slope I go" of the situation. I felt less physically stressed because my mind wasn't aware of what was happening, and potentially *going to happen and I wasn't mentally alert enough to deal with stuff in a time scale that was better suited to me. The spirit was willing, but the body was lagging behind a lot.
I know I'll cope, because I've always managed to cope. I don't intend stopping surviving just yet.
But I'd have liked it to have been *me that coped, and not have had to share the problem with a young lad of 19, who in theory, ought to be working souly to support himself, and enjoying life.
Just as *I ought to have been able to do, had it not been for a large stroke of disaster in the form of ill health. I haven't decided to opt out of working - I'd love to; I'm trying to retrain and get myself well enough to put back something to a society that has shafted me
Something along the lines of From each according to his means, to each according to their needs.
I read somewhere that a society's compassion and civilised behaviour can be assessed by it's attitude and behaviour toward its less advantaged members - the sick, the disabled and the truely disadvantaged
I'll leave the reader to decide which sort of society I live in.
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Latest reply: Aug 11, 2006
Fingers Crossed
Posted Jul 7, 2006
I think - I really think, at long last that the vague light I can glimpse at the end of the tunnel might not be an oncoming train
No promises, mind, but for the first time in a long while there seems to be real hope in getting this blasted Back of mine if not sorted, then at least under control
Why?
Because, at long last, I've got not only a list of symptoms a mile long (
when have I ever not?) But - and this is the important bit -
I've got a complaint that actually matches the symptoms!
Well, 2 of 'em, actually - three if you count IBS.
Which is part and parcel of the first 2.
Anyway... it means
.... Tab A (Symptoms) actually matches Tab B (Ailments) I can finally go to the GP and say
"Oi! I think I've been misdiagnosed and I've been treated for the wrong thing this last 4 years.... I want to undergo tests for x y and z and get a confirmed diagnosiseseses please and thank you" (I'll work on the appropriate phraseolgy a bit later, but that'll be the gist of it. And the GP I'm with is actually pretty on the ball and very supportive, which helps enormously.
How did this come about? Pull up a cat, take the weight off...and I'll begin.
O-K
Lets assume you're aware I've got A Back Problem. Aches, pains and general fatigue have been with me most of my life, and, until The Back really made its presence felt, I just assumed everyone felt this grotty - what puzzled me was how the hell everyone else seemed to have so much more energy than me, and didn't even mention that they, too, physically hurt most of the time.
I certainly have had a form of (so far nameless - but we'll get to that bit in a moment or twenty) inflamitory arthritus since birth.
And like I've said, that was my normality, and as I was actively discouraged from complaining, etc as a kid, I learnt to work around it most of the time. I was never a fast mover, and always a lot stiffer than my contempories, and I always needed a lot more sleep, too - didn't always get it, but hey, no big deal. When you're a teen, sleep is for other people, and thats the way it was.
Always a little slower, and a little more clumsy than everyone else, but that was part and parcel of "me"
And I didn't moan about feeling in pain because that was the norm. Life has lumps and you deal with them.
I just didn't think I was dealing with stuff as well as I wanted, but couldn't *quite* put my finger on thewhy what and what can I do about it.
Fast forward to age 35(ish) Joy of joys I caught Chickenpox from my little dears when they went to school.
And yes, I had it when I was a kid, and the virus went "in" rather than out, so I didn't get the "pox" spots first time around, it went inward to my ears and eyes. Together with measles around the same time, they sucsessfully damaged my sight, and I spent a good few years being traipsed to hearing specialists to listen to "the little mouse squeak"
I had a wonderful childhood me!
ANYWAY, at age 35 I had full blown spots everywhere (and I mean everywhere
) Chicken Pox Lurgi.......and to say I felt like poo on a stick would be understatement. To say I *looked* like aforementioned stick would be sheer stickism.
It lasted over 5 weeks.
And took a long long time to clear up, so I expected to feel a bit tired and run down. Its a virus, and adult chicken pox is a pretty nasty thing to have.
Note the telling phrase "its a virus", OK?
So I muddled on - I had kids to bring up, a life to lead, work to hold down - life, infact. But over the years, I became more and more exhausted, and more and more in pain - my back, which ached occasionally became unbearably painful, and around 3 or 4 years ago I finally had to admit defeat and stop doing the job I loved - my body wasn't functioning well enough to do it any more.
I was a massuesse. And a damned good one at that. And professionally, I was neither allowed nor expected to diagnose.
Basically, I could bearly move and when I did move, it hurt like hell. Constantly. 24/7, etc etc.
I made enough fuss and enough noise to eventualy be heard by the NHS, and was quickly shuffled off via the Rheumatolgist to the Pain Clinic, who finally gave me a diagnosis of Degenerative Spine and Osteo Arthritus.
And so began the long round of trying out painkillers and NSAIDs, Physiotherapy and general packed lunches.
Oh yes, and a few little operations - a Spinal Denervation which went pearshaped (its caused more nerve damage rather than cauterised the pain referring nerves, so basically, the cure wasn't a cure.)
Currently, I am being cured OF the first cure.
Which is a bit of a bugger, as we say in the trade.
Currently, I am having a 4 to six monthly call ins to the hospital to have around 45 injections in the spine
(possibly 60, I tend to lose count after the first 20 or so of em because they bloody well hurt)
and by the end of the op I'm gibbering in agony - they don't give you a General Anesthetic, you see, because you need to be conscious to give feedback to the surgeon
These injections are given to control the pain.
Apparently.
Personally, I just reckon it's the sugeon's way of having fun - inflicting pain legally - but I daren't say that too loudly, as the opinion might cause him to get offended
Though I have asked him in passing if,when regressed to a previous life, he ever had confirmation he was with the Inquisition.
Dr F's alright, really. He's one of the few consultant who's been helpful and willing to keep trying to control my pain. He might hurt like hell doing it... but he's game if I am. I wish there were more like him in the Medical Profession.
Now - running alongside this little drama, is my claim to the Department of Works and Pensions for Disability Living Allowance (DLA)
And they have always quibbled that the Diagnosis I offer them doesn't actually fit in with the difficulties I describe. But thats what I've been given by someone who is an NHS Specialist.
I've applied 3 times, and I have been refused yet again by the DLA - so I am going to Appeal, which means that I have to gather Medical Evidence.
THIS time - though gawd alone knows where I found it - I've had the strengnth of mind, and tenacity to keep fighting. Call it Survival Instinct if you like. Doesn't matter.
So in the last few weeks I have been canvassing the GPs and Consultants and Specialist I've been seeing, asking them all the same question - "Will you provide me with written Medical Evidence that I am, infact, being totally truthful with the DLA that because of the medical condition I have I am disabled enough to qualify for DLA?"
And every single one of them has said "yes"
One of the people I've seen, and asked today, was the Chiropractor (M), who has been of more practical help and through his constant work on the musculature, etc, has been far more beneficial to me. But he's an Outsider toi the NHS>
On the plus side, Chiropractice is now one of the few Alternitive Practices that is recognised by the NHS<
He spent a good hour questioning me, examining me, and doing "Reflexes" and stuff, in order that he had a completely up to date picture of How I Am, so he can write an accurate report for me
During the time spent with him, he said, suddenly:
"Jill, I think you've been misdiagnosed - you certainly have a *form of arthritus, but it's an inflamitory one, which affects your muscles and ligaments. And you probably *have got a Degenerative Spine and a touch of Arthritus in it.... BUT"
Doesn't time fly when you're having fun
Anyway, the upshot, M - who has sucsessfully diognosed several of my friends who also have Backs, and has had his diognosies comfirmed by conventional medicine, is almost 100% certain what I have is Fibromyalgia, coupled with this form of Arthritus he mentioned. Apparently, its quite rare, but it *is a recognised medical problem.
And no, I'm buggered if I can remember the name of it,but that's what pain *does to a person, eventually. Confuses them like hell, and new info takes a lot longer to go in and stick.
Which mean... now I have a proper diognosis, even if I don't get awarded DLA (I will simply try again until I do get it) I *DO have the tools to ensure that I receive the correct medical care. Because I've found, once you've got a name for it, then the NHS does have the technology to either cure stuff, or at least *control a lot of diseases.
Not all of em, but most of the non life threatening ones can have something intelligent done with them - providing they know what they're dealing with. Providing it has a recognised pattern of symptoms
The Arther-itus has been, and will be with me always; yes, it hurts, but I've lived with it all my life.
Fibromyalgia is one of those things that *can just go, but usually doesn't. It's a bit like a scar, I suppose, once you've got it, it's something you have for keeps. But it - and this so far nameless form of recognised inflamitory arthritus *can be controlled.
The 2 together?
Trust me, it's no picnic.
But everything fits now - all those symptoms and "whys" and oh boy it feels good.
Well, mentally, it does - a huge weight has been lifted off my mind.
I've been wondering "Am I being a hypochrondriac?
Am I simply amplyfying the physical pain in my mind because my life's been a bit on the tough side?
Am I trying to get the sympathy vote?
Am I, in short, putting it all on because I'm a weak, inadequate dodo who just wants someone to give a damn about me?
And the short answer to that is:
No.
I'm not weak.
I'm not inadequate.
I can live with the fact I've had a tough life without self pity or blame,
and although I'd like to have the joy of being special to a person who's special to me, I can live quite happilly without it.
Wanting something is not the same as needing it. I'm smart enough and comfortable enough to know and accept the difference.
In short, I'm fine.
But when you're in pain, and mithered out the the skull with painkillers and prescription drugs that arn't actually quite the right ones, the self esteem and the confidence eventually spirals down and down, until you begin to believe your own worst fears and nightmares. Which is where I've been.
M's diagnosis sounds toally accurate to me - Viruses (in this case Chicken Pox)(both times) triggered off 2 autoimmune problems, both of which are recognised by the NHS and have solutions.
Not ideal ones. Not always. But I can ensure I can get the best possible course of action because I believe now I know what I'm dealing with.
And that's OK
I'm not even going to begin to tell you how relieved I feel, because we'll be here all night, and I've got wine to drink, and an evening to enjoy. I've got a friend coming to visit me this weekend, and Stuff to do and... wiv a bit of luck, a better quality of life to enjoy once I've ploughed thru a bit more burocracy and palava.
It feels bloody great, even if I have got a body like an un co-operative set of spanners.
Even spanners can be alright, with a bit of work.
And these ones are going to get sorted if I have any say in the matter
(Oh, I also have the joys of another "pain Killing" set of In Patient Injections on Monday, and the dubious pleasure of a uterine hydroabalation 8 days later, but that's by the by. I'm not looking forward to either, but I'll deal with it)
Anyone ploughed thru all of this?
Congratulations.
Have a beverage of your choice and a banana
And a 
for being as tenacious as I am!
Discuss this Journal entry [12]
Latest reply: Jul 7, 2006
Third Times the Charm
Posted May 22, 2006
I'm embarrassed to admit that the other 2 Meetees from the Small but Beautifully Formed Thanet Meet have already chronicalled the event.
HOWEVER... here are the bits they didn't tell
I can't pass comment on the quality of the pubs
(a pubs a pub; they sell alcohol and some of them have ambluence - and some ought to be carted away in them)
except there are LOTS of them in Broardstairs - and one had a decent JukeBox which had old Stones, Who and Hendrix on offer, along with the compulsory Wrinkled Rocker in the corner who knew ALL the lyrics and didn't mind demonstrating his knowledge.
This particular pub also boasted plastic flowers in the Ladies Loo. Real class.
It seemed compulsory enjoyment to present each meetee with a small sprig as a souvenier.
Oddly enough, when the Gents plumbing went to be inspected, no plastic flowers were availiable. I don't like to imagine why not. Let it be one of life's little mysteries, eh?
H'mm, what else.
No-one's mentioned the bloke doing headstands in the trendy pub with the kind landlady who vacated her table to accomodate the Sticks in the party have they?
Its quite disconcerting to be sat opposite 2 chaps, gaily holding forth on some apparently interesting topic of converstion (we'd got past Insurance by then) and slowly become aware that there's no eye contact (or indeed acknowledgement.)
I wondered momentarilly about the deodrant situation, but then decided what the hell
Turning slowly, and slightly dreading what I'd see - I know Sarah's method's of old in attracting attention to get served at the bar and it was her round - there was a bloke behind me on the bar floor stood on his head, legs asprawl. I'm not quite sure if he was the Bill we said hallo to, but he seemed to enjoy himself. If I remember rightly, there was a crowd of flurescent Pink Wigged individuals mourning the defection of one of their ranks to the state of matrimony in there too.
Or was that when we wished Ruth good luck?
H'mmm
Potent stuff this tonic water. Just because I was sober doesn't guarantee I was being particually observant.
Otherwise it was much as MMF and Reddy Freddy have said - although I notice there's no mention of the mobile phone photoes taken..... and I bet they won't be published here, either
The Italian Restraunt was excellent - good food, good service and reasenable prices; there was *copious* amounts of vino, too, and the glass I had was rather jolly good. As was the expresso I had. Never drank one of them things before, and by heck it's like rocket fuel. One minute slightly sleepy, next minute, buzzy buzzy buzzy.
Apparently, people drink this stuff on a regualr basis for pleasure.
If this is what the Mini meets are like, then I'm going to gird my loins and attempt getting up to London for a Big Meet.
Twas a good laugh, and great to put faces to names to more H2-ers
Here's to the next one
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Latest reply: May 22, 2006
Hooray for a Henry
Posted Apr 27, 2006
Life is a bit on the impoverished side chez Cake; without whinging, it was always a bit on the financially tight side when the lads were little, and since The Back struck....well;
I don't need to draw a picture really - even if I haven't actually detailed my income you'd have to be pretty blase not to realise that every penny counts, and a minor hiccup like a curtain rail breaking, or running out of bin bags before the next weekly shop actually is a financial crisis for me.
And poverty really grinds you down. I've always known that, but I've always fought against getting ground. As one friend remarked once,"You are so happy with so very little" That doesn't make me special particually, merely realistic not to cry for the moon. Life has lumps and you just deal with them, and utilise to the full whatever you have without moaning, as far as I'm concerned.
Anyway; like I say, you make do with what you have, travelling ever hopefully forward to the time when you can afford to stop making do - and hoping to god that the household equipment you do have doesn't blow up, wear out, fritz or fall to bits before you can afford to replace the damned thing.
This involves a lot of maintence and doing jerry built repairs in the meantime.
And it does take its toll.
Today I asked Liam if he'd hoover for me; The one I have is heavy and unweildly, but it was the best I could afford - not *The Best* on the market by any stretch of the imagination, and over time, has become less efficient than a wet rag and a thorough sweep that I'd do myself if I could.
Liam complained bitterly about the "crap hoover" and asked when I was getting a new one. I replied not until the damned thing wore out - I KNOW we need a new hoover, but it wasn't on the list of essentials - and even if it were, we'd have to wait at least another 2 months before I raised the necessary cash to get one - by which time, some other emergency would crop up no doubt
"Right. Get your keys and out with me, now" he said "I'm sick of that bl**dy hoover, it's useless and if I'm going to do housework I want a decent one to work with"
"I've just told you, I can't buy one for another 2 months son"
"YOU arn't buying - *I* am. Its a hundred quid, which is naff all, and I'm getting one. I just want to make sure the one I get is light enough for you to use, too"
I have to admit I cried. Half because I never expected such kindness or support.....but mainly because I felt so ashamed of myself that I,
who am in theory responsible for my kid's welfare and comfort simply am not in a position to provide simple basics. Putting food on the table is about as much as I can actually do. And not necessarilly three meals at any one time. And as he said, a hundred quid *is* naff all in the scheme of things - and I couldn't do it.
And it somehow seems so bloody unfair that a kid of 19 has made himself responsible for the role I tried to do! I think thats what got me the most!
And now, I'm sitting in a well hoovered sitting room, thank's to his purchse of a nice, cheerful light weight Henry Hoover, and think to myself...
OK, I couldn't provide a hoover when we needed one. But I've managed to keep us afloat, we're not in any serious debt except for a credit card bill that I'm reducing in bite sized pieces.
I managed all this, and have brought up two sons single handedly; one of whom is studying to get a well paid job, and one of whom is doing a crass menial job so he too can put himself through college. They've more decency in their little fingers than a lot of other people who have far more in the bank, and who should know better.
And one of them thought to buy the House a hoover so we can all benefit from it, instead of just looking out for himself. Which at 19 is really what you do, after all.
Bu I reckon I can take a little bit of the credit for it too. All those sacrifices I made, and possibly the example I set for them has paid me back ten fold.
I've a son to be more than a bit proud of.
And I've had the valuable lesson that even being poor hasn't completely ground me down. Bruised me a bit, yes - but I've no reasen to be ashamed that I cannot work full time thru a crook back; tisn't laziness thats stopping me, just an unavoidable occurance that I'm coping with incrediably well.
Like Liam said "For gawdssake Mum, it's only a hoover"
Yep - it is!
And the gesture of young Sir thinking to get one is worth far more to me than the money spent. A hundred quid is, after all, naff all
But a son like my eldest is beyond price.
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Latest reply: Apr 27, 2006
Rocket Science!
Posted Apr 4, 2006
I've just spent a merry hour finding out how to go about going back to College - got an interview with Broardstairs on the 24th of this month
And I've discovered something I didn't know about my qualifications -
when I did my day course for the ITECs when I decided I wanted to be an aromatherapist, no-one told ME that they were a Level 3 type course
which is sort of between A levels and a degree in Old Money
So according to the nice Careers Guidance Bod at Broardstairs, I'm already regarded as having the equivalent of a degree, due to the "Science Based subjects" I took ten years ago;
and this means (a) I may not have to go thru the introductory part of the course (no bad thing)
and (b) -and this is the bit that amazes me- I'm regarded as having a qualification in a science based subject
Now; I've always regarded "science" as one of those subjects that was too complicated for me to understand. And I don't really approve of the archtypical Scient's credo of "How does *this* work"...and all those painstaking comparitive tests to prove (nine times out of ten) the bleedin' obvious
(A recent TV documentary on "Does Accupuncture work" is a good example
- it's been going for over 5,000 years, and there's filmed evidence of Open Heart Surgury being performed with NO general anesthetic and the patient's not only calm and feels absolutely no pain but recovers enough to walk out of the hospital and lead a normal life within a fortnight, using Accupuncture in place of the GA
Of COURSE accupunture works - look at the evidence of your own eyes and experiences and make a decision...don't anylise it for heavens sake! And don't try to scientifically define Ch'i before you believe in its existence. G'AARGH! Scientists!
)
It's not just the fact I've got quite an impressive qualification in a "science" based subject that amazes me....it's the fact that I've been sitting quietly on the equivalent of a degree (because I've got a total of 4 Diplomas) and not realising it.
That's the freaky bit!
It doesn't make me one jot or tittle better than anyone else and the only real use I've had for those certificates is to cover up damp patches on the walls with 'em.
But
It's rather nice to realise I've got a couple of bits of paper that prove to the world I'm fairly bright
If I've been sitting on a degree for the last ten years and not even realising what I'd achieved, then possibly the only thing that having one could indicate is that I'm a bit slow on the uptake in some things!
Ah well; I get there eventually - and it feels rather jolly good.
Even if it *is* ten years late!
Discuss this Journal entry [1]
Latest reply: Apr 4, 2006
Moving On
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