With the Remembrance Nov. 11 holiday on a Saturday, this means that some businesses, and government, who are normally closed on Saturday, have decided to take the Monday off too. And as it "happened", the two businesses I went to in an attempt to get a quote on the clutch replacement. And in both instances, there was someone there. I call these kind of events, "skunks", as a consequence of dashed expectations. The business should be open, but isn't. Similarly, if I go to a store for a regular product, knowing where it is, and it is sold out, I also deem this as a "skunk. The perps just love, love, these set ups. As it was today, with extra stalking, extra disruption and prior annoyance in advance. So why is it they need to disrupt my existence so often, with such higher occurrences than before they went berserk/overt on me in 04-2002? I suspect it has something to do with a brain dopamine interaction at the moment of successful outcome, and they and their stalker assholes are on hand as some kind of bio-energetic shills/sensors to somehow record the event.
Last month at LD, they even moved the men's shaving products altogether, and when I went to the regular shelf location, it wasn't there obviously. I turn around to depart, and there are two aisle stalkers suddenly on my ass, one younger woman who caught my attention. So here we have a dashed expectations outcome again, but for a different reason; they moved the whole section of men's products, not "just" drawing down the supply of the particular item. But even this minor variation brings on extra stalker coverage for some reason. Why cannot these assholes just leave me alone, and quit obstructing my dopamine situation? (Which is already depleted because I have ADD, and the assholes blocked the very successful stimulant treatment I took from 2000 to 2003.)
No radiotherapy treatment today, a half holiday at the hospital I suspect, though one staff member said they were going to do a software upgrade over the weekend. Perish the thought, having worked in software, and of course, being at the butt end of Windows and other application upgrades. The most feared word in the Western world is "upgrade" these days, and for good reason. Even the Samsung phone upgrades are prone to stupid fuckery just to mess with customers IMHO. The notification of messages in particular; it used to be that every incoming message brought a notification ping tone. But not now; if the text message arrives with 5(?) minutes of the last text (same respondent), it doesn't ping now. And of course, no Settings to change the new and inconvenient imposed notification behavior. So why did they do this? Do they think that every one is sitting in rapt attention to the phone/text device for some pre-determined (by Samsung) amount of time? In my case no; I put the phone away and get onto something else. From what I can tell, it cannot be changed. Thanks for the upgrade Samsung, and I pray you never make gamma ray cancer treatment devices.
And what is with Windows and their Start button, which often flakes out? The Start button is everything; otherwise one cannot view or access one's applications software. Poof, its gone and the PC is hogtied. How is that for a self-destructive upgrade? Same for you Microsoft; do not ever make the base OS for a gamma ray cancer treatment center.
And a whole three weeks into Yahoo's mail upgrade, which I refused to accept, they stiffed me with the upgrade anyhow. As in no choice. So what was the point of asking me to decline the upgrade in the first place? Thankfully they didn't screw it up and functionality was largely kept with all the same visual cues. But after using email for over 30 years, often as in-house software, I really don't need an upgrade. But no, they think I do.
A serious tattoo line up at yoga tonight. Four of them plus me lined up abreast in front of the instructor, and three of them had serious tattoos down their arm. The only one who didn't, was the wife of the overweight male tattoo-ed specimen. Gross, or at least, I find it so, and this whole "tat attack" has been yet another part of the freak show the perps like to put in my face.
At yoga, about 12 yogis, of which two were returning regulars, the rest new. Again, I find it most unusual there are so many newbies each week, most of them don't look much practised in yoga anyhow. For some reason, the regular instructor isn't coming now, and the student fill in of last week is now the instructor. A most strange turnover situation of instructors, but whatever.
11-15-2017
Another of my daily, (6 weeks total), trip to Kelowna for radiotherapy. Though today, their system upgrade kicked in for real, and the whole process was slowed down for some reason. Even a radiation oncologist (he said) came to apologize to all of us in the waiting room. Though I suspect he was with the company that made the radiotherapy equipment (at best), all dressed in a suit, as were a few other males. I don't know quite why, as shouldn't they be in some backroom somewhere working on software? Having these suits walking the hallway struck me as most odd. Perhaps it was a men-in-suits abreaction they were looking for.
For some reason the perps jangled me this morning, and I felt like I had two cups of coffee, when I didn't. Two weeks ago, I did, at the behest of the radiotherapy staff. Later today, I worked out, but felt totally useless, and walked on the treadmill for 15 minutes. So much for working out and boosting my dopamine supply. Besides, the gym seemed such a "herding show"; that is, placing Fuckwits around me all the time, some just sitting there in what I have come to know as "regular" gym behavior.
The perps seem to be on the rag today for whatever reason. They even went silly on my parking neighbors at the cancer clinic. That's my Ford Escape backed in, with a near color matched brown-tan sedan beside it, and lo, three same deep red colored vehicles parked around the Escape and the sedan. (Pardon the out-of-focus, as one can thank my tormentors for that, having a knack of moving my fingers at the critical moment).
I haven't seen this stupidity for at least 6 years, since I was in that holy gangstalking town, Victoria BC. The present record for same color surrounding vehicles, parked or in traffic is eight. That's right, eight deep red colored vehicles parked around me in traffic one time.
And just to make sure there was some black reference colors, why, these two were parked in front of me before I set off from the above scene. Looks like a white one was placed between them for color contrast. Those scary black vehicles again, somewhat muted by accumulated road grit. Its the low reflectance that makes them more scary, or at least to me, and possibly eliciting abreactions for a time that I was witness to such, but was memory deleted, (1956-59).
11-16-2017
An early, 0900h, radiotherapy appointment today, meaning I had to get up at 0600h. For that, I got nailed with a two hour nap attack in the afternoon.
And what is it about smiles, and grimaces (countenances, or facial expressions) that are so interesting to the perps? This is the third week of Mon-Fri radiotherapy at the same treatment room each time. The regular staff know who I am, having seen me more than once. It is easy to pick out the patients there if they are outside the waiting room (in the hallway); they are either in the standard issue togs (blue and brown), have a toque on (if in chemotherapy), or if just arriving or leaving before they get changed, are packing the standard issue plastic white bag to carry their togs to and from the hospital. Anyhow, I was standing at the water cooler taking in water in the hallway, dressed in my togs, as I am to fill up my bladder, as required. One of the radiotherapy treatment technicians, a woman in her 30's, Ms. Cne walks out from behind me, and heads down the hall, some 100'. I recognized her build and hair from seeing her working with patients in the adjacent radiotherapy unit, as one waiting room serves both. One time she switched units, introduced herself, and got me set up on the table, aligned with the laser beams for accurate placement, as they do each time. She was friendly, smiled, but to be fair, she isn't an over the top gushy bubbly type. Getting back to the water cooler story, as I need to take in 4 cups of water, she comes back down the hall on the same track (inside of 2 min.), and as she nears me, I look at her, and she looks at me with this grimace, and no hint of recognition. Like WTF; is she on grimace duty or what? (Curiously,when she was on duty the one time, she was the only one who needed to rub some compound on my faint freckle tattoo on my front; over a week later, all the others still don't need any kind of solution to augment its visibility).
And then to contrast that episode, as I was leaving, a staff member who I had not seen before, and had no prior interaction with, smiles at me. (Recall that I am recognizable as a patient as I was packing the standard issue plastic bag). I smile back, and that was the end of it. Interestingly, I was near the said water cooler at that moment. So what are these managed countenances all about? Two of the three regular radiotherapy technicians now seem be friendly, having relaxed from their initial disinclination. The third, a younger tall woman, is still in evasive face contact mode. Whatever. It just seems so staged or else she has an severe anxiety problem.
Long term readers, and many TI's, will know that I consider my every move and breath to be choreographed, so seeing people behave strangely is to me, no matter how fleeting, is a managed event.
As an aside, where I get my water from, and in what drinking vessel seems to be such a big deal to the perps. There has been more than one stalker doing duty at the water cooler, just hanging around there for no, or little, seeming purpose.
I felt better today, not jangled. I recall the first week of radiotherapy that the radiotherapy treatment technician had me drink coffee, and I felt very jangled from that. So it would seem the perps are up to some kind of neuro-fuckery, and used coffee intake as the cover excuse. Yesterday, they dispensed with the coffee for whatever reason it seems. Though a cover excuse could be that I worked out at the gym yesterday, though by my standards it sucked. I couldn't get running on the treadmill for more than 3 minutes and had to back down to a stiff walk for a total of 15 minutes. I am getting governed down as to how much effort I can expend at work outs. Last year I ran for 22 min. straight after my iron infusion. "For some reason", I didn't do a running test after my iron infusion this year, 08-2017.
11-17-2017
An early afternoon radiotherapy session today; all seemed in order. The oddity was that they sprang a male technician on me. I didn't know until I got into the treatment room, and there he was. He introduced himself, and offered his hand (none of the others did, all female), which I shook. Then he told me as I was getting on the bed that I was in the right spot, and I said that after three weeks, I think I have it figured out. He seemed the hyper type, not one to fuss the details, always a little disconcerting when one is being positioned precisely with lasers on top of the freckle-size tattoos they placed on me with such precision. Anyhow, I suspect the "diversity show" will continue as the radiotherapy technicians tour continues.
For the first two weeks it was a regular three some, though only two at a time, save two different E. Indian females, plus the above mentioned smile-compromised woman, Ms. Cne, all single time guest appearances. This week they are heavy on rotating others in; two different ones on T,W, one of whom only shows up at the end, which doesn't matter a whole lot as only one person is needed to move the bed laterally and lower it, and remove the calf support. Anyhow, being a regular, near M-F event, now at three weeks, and two more to go, I suspect that this particular TI Victim Tour will bring on more visiting variants. Say, male ponytails, male bob-jobs, more brown colored workers etc. But at least the tall young one, who is so face contact averse, finally did look at me today over wishing me a good weekend.
And I see they have cranked on another 1kg of body weight since two weeks ago. I started this deal at 87.8kg, then was 92.4kg, and now 93.4kg. I asked the doctor about it and he said all his prostate cancer patients gain weight. Well, thanks for telling me in advance. Now that they sucked me down barely being able to run on a treadmill, this is getting problematic. I suppose vineyard work will wear some of that down, but I must wait until February for that.
And the "usual" hallway scene when I was dressed and heading out of the change area of the gamma ray cancer treatment area. This time, three dithering dipshits strung abreast across the hallway, adroitly placed at the nexus of the hallway and the crossing path from waiting area to treatment rooms. If it isn't there, it is in the 60' of hallway, at the corner of the hallway and the main lobby, or at the doors to outside. Add on the "usual" pit lamping headlights when I am in the parking lot or in my vehicle, and then add on vehicular clusterfucks when attempting to exit a four way crossing. Then the odd swarm of street stalkers sometimes. Not all of these "happen" every day, but enough to tell me that this is arranged. One day they even put on a cancer patient whom I had seen twice in the waiting room, and there she was sitting at a bus stop three blocks away, on the side of the street headed to the clinic. Like WTF; she could of walked, or else she wasn't a real patient. My post gamma-ray irradiated lower body region state seems to be so interesting to so many people for reasons they don't wish to tell me. Go figure. After 15 years of being harassed up the asshole, stalked everywhere in this insane giant choreography around me, they still won't tell me. Whoever they are of course, but they seem to be hugely influential, and do seem to reward all those who take part.
And it seems that the week's end of treatment (Friday) is also ripe for extra perp stunts. Three weeks ago it was the car audio guy who fixed my car deck's problem by unplugging and then reconnecting it for crissakes, and then drove it whole 60' to the front of the shop. He didn't need to drive it in the shop, and for that matter, didn't need to drive it at all. Then last week it was the Ford dealership's transmission technician who (strangely) didn't want to test drive the vehicle, but had me drive it to demonstrate the clutch was failing. He was a little strange it seemed to me, as normally automotive techs just love to talk shop, and I love to hear it. This week, after negotiating extended vehicle trains all over town, I went to get my weekly salon tan. No interaction of others with respect to automotive repair of course, but there was the woman at the salon, with her daughter or daughter-in-law, and her grandchild. Anyhow, she confirms how many minutes, and I tell her, and she says to go right in. I get undressed and all, lie down, and she hadn't set the master switch. I get dressed, open the door, and yell out over the fan noise and the terrible AM muzak, and request that she turn on the switch, which she does. Like WTF; it is the second time she has pulled this shit, and she has been there for over five years, and is sharp as a tack. And the third time it has "happened" there. So maybe the whole deal was to rile me up, post irradiative treatment state. I give up; just leave me the fuck alone, and fill my bank account before you go.
Everyone else gets cash splashed on them for taking part, and for 15 years I get nothing but insane and sustained abuse, and cancer too. And I get stiffed with the most obdurate stick-in-the-mud Fuckwits this planet has every known, all my working life, long before this reign (or rain) of abuse came down 04-2002 and hasn't let up since. There should be a TI Victims contest, perhaps online, where we brag about what have been the worst abuses, the most vexing, damaging, etc., all kinds of categories could be arranged. Better yet, maybe in the form of a reality show, where we are on stage, and no planted shills to screw it up. Hope springs eternal.
Then a confluence of phone calls when I get back from the tanning salon; a work related one, and then the unemployment bureau was giving me a courtesy call. Like WTF; I haven't had any calls all week, and I get two inside of five minutes just as I get in the door, a favorite perp time to get me it seems. Along with other fuckery at that juncture; scrambling my fingers so I drop the keys, having me "forget" items to force a back-and-forth, jamming the door so make it difficult to lock etc. Building egress fuckery I call it. Though in fact, they often pull this shit when transiting between rooms; having me "miss" turning the light switch on or off is a specialty at these junctures.
Anyhow; I got sucked down into a grim mood last night, so I will post this now, Monday, 1300h, 11-20-2017.
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