Tough Moments

Andreia, there have been countless tough moments, or storylines. Some of these times were so extreme, the initial diagnosis was a walk in the park to deal with by comparison.

Homelessness: In October 2022 I ran out of money, and was evicted with five days notice from the property I’d been renting in Sedona. I had a house full of furniture, an office setup, camera and drone equipment, a car, a dog, but no resources to deal with any of it. I sold some equipment at dirt cheap prices as soon as I got the eviction notice to cover the cost of a moving company and a local storage unit for a month. I slept in my car in the desert that night, wondering what to do next

The landlord at an Airbnb I’d been staying at paid for me to get a ride to Sedona, and gave me some cash for couple nights’ stay in a pet friendly hotel. The first night I planned to snuggle with Rupert, and my friends were to collect him the following morning. The second day I’d tidy up any loose ends, write to a few people, say farewell and offer gratitude to my friends before checking out of the hotel with nowhere to go, other than the wilderness or a homeless shelter for drug addicts and alcoholics. I had chosen the wilderness. The place where I always find peace.

I was an hour from checking out of the hotel when I started to receive a flood of wonderful messages from friends on social media, and many came to my aid financially in that moment of desperation. This got me off the street, but I was pretty beaten up at this point, and haven’t fully recovered.

Ceasing Treatment

The toughest moment of all came a few weeks ago. My oncology social worker and I had spent over a year trying to find a housing solution without success. The shortage of resources for people that find themselves in my position is staggering.

I discovered in February 2024, that a toothache and facial neuropathy I’d been experiencing for over a year, was in fact jawbone necrosis - likely caused by infusions of Zometa, a bone strengthening drug (believe it or not). The oral surgeon said the risk of a jawbone fracture was very high, and could easily fracture in my sleep. Surgery to remove the dead bone, and insert mesh was critical and urgent. This new layer of stress wasn’t something I expected, but it did explain the intense pain.

Since January, I’d managed to get some state funds as well as a few emergency funding checks which allowed me to keep a roof over my head, but on March 11th those funds ran out and I moved into a tool shed at the property I’d been renting. There’s no running water or bathroom facilities, sleeping on the floor is very uncomfortable, and I get weaker by the day through insufficient sleep and nutrition. Surgery is not a viable option under these conditions.

My attempt at appealing to the Department of Economic Security for three months rental assistance under an emergency fund was denied on April 8th. Had I been successful, it would have just about covered the period leading up to surgery and for the duration of the recovery. This period of stability would have also given me an opportunity to work on income streams outside the failing NFT space, where the majority of my efforts have gone these last three years.

I’ve always been a pragmatist, and faced with all these challenges, I simply had to accept that I’d finally hit a wall too high to climb over. Unlike the experience in December, where the situation was in control of me, this time I’ve been able to prepare myself emotionally for any eventuality, and plan accordingly.

Relenting

On April 10th, 2024 I relented, and stopped my chemo treatments. On April 12th, I met with my Palliative Care physician, and asked him to make a referral to hospice…. Although all of this was high stress, I felt an immense sense of relief having made a sound decision based on all the information.**

**Since this interview, on May 19th, 2024, an angel visited. I’m now back on chemo, with a roof over my head, and recovering. Here’s what happened.