So, through all this torment growing up in my Mother's house I had my real friends, the dogs and cats. We had a Collie named Sandy, A boxer-Bloodhound named trouble, A chihuahua named Bo Bo, A sheltie named Shannon, And two cats Cocoa-Calico, and Stormy-gray cat. Well, if they did something wrong like pee in the house or poop or get dirty my Mother would go on a rant saying that if they kept it up she would give them a "Needle". What she meant was she would take them to the vet and have them destroyed or "Put to sleep" as she worded it. Well, Sandy was about 6, had weak back legs and growths on his back. Trouble was starting to get testy and my mother felt he had a brain tumor. (He was just testy), and Stormy was starting to have loose stools all the time. So my Mom called this place called (Maybe I should not use the name, it is still there). It was a shelter. My mom and my good sister packed up the three Trouble, Sandy and Storm and asked me to come along. My mom explained that they were sick and being put down. No not by needle, she got a deal on a big death packet, they could all be gassed together and it would be the same price. A three for one, what a ****ing bargain. So, we drove there and the dogs knew, I swear they knew they had to be dragged and my mom and sister stayed in the car and I had to carry trouble and drag Sandy. My mom has this policy that when an animal is destroyed you have to stay and see the body, see they might sell it to science and that would not happen to one of her animals. So, I watched them and even assisted as they pushed, more like crammed my friends into a small door, more like an oven and shut the door. The gas hummed and I stood there sick waiting to look at my dead animals. I viewed them and went back. My mom and my sister was so hysterical crying, I lied. I told them that it was not bad, it was very fast, they had room and each other to die quickly. They died horribly. I however told them what really happened years later after I moved out. Bo Bo was old and losing control. Gas is cheaper and since it was so lovely she was going to give him the same exodus as the other three. I laid it out for her and Bo Bo lived for several more years on a long leash in her kitchen. She felt awful, I felt like a traitor and a killer. I have since in my adulthood had to put to sleep several of my companions for good cause. I will not allow an animal to suffer. However, they do get the shot and I do stay with them every minute comforting them into death.

Portabella,
You have a very kind heart for someone who has been through so much. I too am an animal lover. I have 12 pet chickens all named chikos. I have two pet rats named Nibbles and Meme. Meme is a bit neurotic and doesn't like to be picked up. But nibbles rides on my shoulder through the house. I have three dogs, one papered German Shep. and two "American" lol. Well shucks! Keep up the good work. Take gentle care of yourself my friend.
Love & Care
Marilyn

So, I am now 17 years old and have never had a date per say. I was set up on a blind date with a guy named Nick, well it fell through. So, it was a friday afternoon and I was going to a Blondie concert that night with some friends when my girlfriend Bonnie called and said that the blind date was for that night. I gave up the Blondie concert and went on the date, what a mistake. Hindsight is 20/20 for sure. Well, we went to a bar, (I had fake ID and the Nick was 3 years older than I) and Bonnies date was an idiot. We ended up thrown out of the bar by the bouncers and I went home. Nick said he would like a second date and we could pretend the first one did not count since it was so aweful. I bit.

So, I am not going to go into heavy details, but now I am dating Nicky. A 6ft tall, body builder, dark skin, blue eyed, blonde haired Italian. What a dream right. He was aweful. He was a momma's boy like I have never seen the likes of. All he ever told me about was his ex girlfriend named Janice and how she was gorgeous and she was perfect for him and how his mother loved her. Well, next thing I find out is I am pregnant. I was panicked, I was a catholic, abortion was out cause it was murder. My mother was going to kill me. I told my Mother and was put out of my house, while being pushed to marry him. I was not to resistant to the idea because I wanted away from my sister anyway. So, I lived with Nick and then we got married by the Justice of the Peace, of course we could not have a church wedding, we had sinned. Both our parents made that clear. Nicky cheated on me from day 1, or should I say before day 1. Nick was also very domineering and would force me to do things sexually that I never even knew existed. Nick did not care if he hurt me, if I bled, did not matter, as long as he was satisfied. Nick never hit me, but he hit the dog Kimba. I warned him not to hit her, I was losing it. Well, one day he hit her and I called the Police, they wrote him a ticket is all. He was pissed. I told him that I had warned him not to hit the dog. Nick put down my body, my boobs were too saggy. Why do you have wrinkles in your forhead. Constant belittling me. Well, my contractions started one night, we were watching Deliverance. He would not leave the movie to take me to the hospital. So, my mom took me. I was so unprepared for the pain and Angie was sunny side up so it was a hard birth. I took medicine for the pain and they had a forcep delivery. I woke up in Recovery and Nick was not there yet. Why, he was with his mom. Well, he showed up about 10 p.m and brought me a burger king. Then looked at the baby and went home to bed.

The next day I was holding Angie and she had the hiccups. The nurse looked at her and took her from me and seemed panicked. I knew something was wrong. My mother arrived for a visit and began bitching at me about a used condom that she had found in her basement couch and my sister told her it had to be me. Well, I told my mom, Hello does it look like we used condoms, we were here with a baby weren't we. I never used one before. Just my sister being a bitch, trying to ruin my event. Nothing new. Then the nurse came in and said that they had drawn blood from the baby for its blood gases. She advised that the baby was turning blue and something was wrong. The nurse further advised that there was a Pediatric Cardiologist looking her over. Well, this all went very fast. The Doctor came to me and advised that she would need to be flown to St. Francis Heart Hospital. He further advised that every baby is born with a whole in their heart and it closes within the first twenty four hours. This allowed her blood to mix. Well, hers was closing and she had a disorder called "Transposition of the Great Artery/Vessels". They were going to have to give her an experimental drug called "Prostoglandens" to keep the hole from closing for now and I would have to sign to give permission or she would die. I signed. They told me that she was going to have an emergency procedure called a "balloon Systosomy" and rip the wall of her heart out to allow the blood to mix. Essentially her Aorta was where her Pulomanary Artery was and vice Versa. Meaning Red blood was going to the lungs and Blue blood was going to the body, she was dying. The next thing I remember was the flight crew had her in an incubator thing and brought her to my room to say goodbye. I had over a hundred stitches in my lower region as they had to cut me from stem to stern and into the rectum to get her out during birth. I begged to go with her. They said I was not stable enough physically. So, everyone left and headed to the other hospital. I continued to beg for them to let me go. No dice. So, I made my bed real nice and called a friend to meet me in the parking lot, told her if she would not take me home, I would walk, so she came. I snuk out and headed to my house to try and find normal clothes that would fit as I had gained weight. My feet were still swollen and I could not fit in my shoes as I had Toxemia during pregnancy. So I wore Moon boots, that was interesting. I took a bus to the train station and then took a train to the city. I then walked about 10 miles to the hospital. I got there about 11 p.m. worrying the whole way that she had died. She was in the Pediatric intensive care. They said, "She is here, that has to be the mother" as I walked past the nurses station. I guess everyone was looking for me. I then sat in a metal rocking chair at cribside with my daughter in front of me for 3 days. The doctor told me if she made it the first 24 hours I would be halfway there and if she made it three days, we were on the road home. My stitches were killing me and my arm was turning all red and it was traveling up my arm. On the third day I went to the regular hospital to find out that my stitches however painful were not infected, just drying out without care and as such very painful. My arm was Phlebitis and I had to take a shot to break up the clot or it would kill me. I took the shot and headed back to Angie. Angie had tubes in every orafice, she was tied down arms and legs to the bed, she had monitors on her chest and needles in her head and I could only rub her fingers. Well, it was made clear before we got to go home that Angie would need open heart surgery at about 11 months old. She would have to have a surgery call the "mustard operation". She would always be bluish in color and I would have to give her digoxin to keep her alive as well as hemperin to keep her blood thin. This is all for now, I need a break for sure.

Not to change the subject but something wierd happened just a bit ago. So, I am talking with my Mom on the phone and she tells me that her and my good sister went and got haircuts today and did some shopping. I said, "that is nice". Then she says, "You know that shelter out on War*&% Road, I said, "yeah" then she said that her and my sister went there and donated Dog food and Cat food today. I said, "Ma, you know that place holds some very bad memories for me"? She told me yes she knew that and she admitted that for years she would take a different route when travelling so she would not have to pass there, the memory was disturbing for her too. The discussion then changed course, but I have not discussed nor thought of that place in so long, and for me to bare my soul to this forum about how much it altered my emotions as a child and for her to mention it within days of me baring how upset it made me is really odd. Makes you wonder how thick the bond can be. You have to understand, this happened about 30 years ago. Too much for coincidence, "twighlight zone music commences". Very perplexing to me.

Angelina Nicole was a beautiful baby. She was not really blue, she was pastey white and when she got sinotic she would get blue around her lower eyes, nail beds, lips and if it ever got too noticable she would have to go to the doctor right away. I am now 18, and have a terrible relationship with my husband. A child that is ill and could die. Pending open heart surgery for her in the coming months. And I go for my 3 month post pardum check up and I am pregnant. Angie had to go to the doctor monthly, echograms, EKG's, and Angiograms. She had to be catheterized twice for a look to see that her heart was holding out.

This is going to sound horrible, but I tryed so hard not to love her too much. It is like being given a puppy that is healthy and one that is going to die. You really try and emotionally disassociate yourself from the sick one to try and protect yourself.

I am now almost to term and Angie's surgery is coming up. I am stressing because I have to be able to sit at the hospital with her and I have to give birth and both are scheduled around the same time. So...they induced out Anthony, my son, so that I could three days later be at the heart hospital with Angie. What a life. So....I go to the hospital with Angie and they are putting her through test after test to be sure she is ready. I would sneak home to see Anthony inbetween. So...the pediatric cardiologist asked me how Anthony's belly button cord was healing. I told him the stump was looking yukky. He admitted him to the hospital so that I would not have to go back and forth. Anthony was on a normal floor, Angie was in the PCU. Well, the day of her surgery came and I was a mess. I prayed so hard. I lit candles in the chapel, I cryed in the bathroom, they sent the hospital shrink after me because I was totally wigging out. 8 hours later her surgery was over and I got to see her. She was swollen. She was again tied down to the bed, she was in a tent. She had chest tubes on both sides coming out from incisions. She had monitors all over her. She had IV in her head, neck, foot. She was asleep and all I could think was would she make it. The doctor told me that the chances were 60/40 against. Well, I could stay with her 15 minutes at a time. So...I was headed up that evening and I saw a whole bunch of doctors over her working. I knew something was wrong and stood frozen about 10 feet outside her door. The pediatric Cardiologist told me that her pressure was dropping and that meant she was bleeding inside. She was headed back to surgery. He said if the bleeding was in front of the heart they would get it stopped and all would be well. If it was behind the heart, he then knocked on the wood handles that lined the hall walls. I was numb. I could'nt cry anymore. I called my family and let them know that it was going bad. Early the next morning about 2 a.m. she came out of surgery and she was alive. I was happy, but it was too soon for any relief.

Well, she bounced back fairly well. I was going to get to take her home. Woo Hoo. Now, I am at home with my family and dealing with an abusive husband, but he was a great father. I mean he loved the kids immensely. He just did not love the mother. Me! A girlfriend of mine that lived in Phoenix asked me if I would like to take a break and go and see her. Well, Nick was all for it, my mother even backed that I needed some rest. So.,..I took a bus and went to Phoenix for 2 weeks vacation. I called home to check on the kids for the first two days and on the third day could not reach Nick. So, I called my mom and she continued to try and reach him. No luck. So, my mom went to my home and called me crying and panicked. The house was empty, the bastard moved in with his mother with the kids. I blew my stack and headed home the next day. Upon arrival I found that he filed for divorce and that he had filed for full custody as he claimed I deserted them. He claimed he did not know that I was going to Phoenix for a break. So...I called the courts and they said that I could explain it during our hearing but for now, I could not have my kids. My dog Oliver was not with Nicky, so I headed for the pound, and yes he had brought him there. Oliver had been adopted. I told them he was my dog, he was AKC whitehead and I had papers. They told me that they would call the lady who had adopted him a few days prior and tell her what had happened. So...I go to pound the next day and met the lady and she had Oliver, she had lost her Old English and just adored Oliver. I knew my life was taking a digger and figured that he would be better off with the lady, I signed his papers over and gave Oliver a life. I cryed my way home. Then my mother tells me that since I had moved out, I was not welcome to stay at her house, my mothers motto. "If you move out, you can never come back". She threw me out. OH well, so I went to a friends to try and figure what to do. I actually had no home. I was homeless. OMG....I am 19 and homeless. Something happened then, don't know what or how to explain it, I went numb. I don't mean numb for a day, hell no, just don't give a rats ass numb.

So....I would spend the nights at friends houses, however this was wearing thin, if only in my own mind. So, I was going to the bar at night and drinking. I met a guy, his name was Frank. Frank was a piece of work, I realize that now, but at the time he totally intrigued me. Frank was in a motorcycle gang and wore his colors proudly. Well, I moved in at his house. Now this was wierd because it was really three houses, front house, middle and back. Frank lived in the back house, I lived in a room in the front house. I could give a guess but all together there were approx. 40 people living in the three houses combined. The front house was the biggest and had three floors. Well, after about a month I moved into the back house with Frank, there were only about six people in that house including Frank and myself. Frank was the Vice President of the group. Frank was strange because he was so nice when we were alone, but in front of others, he was an ass. Treated me poorly. Well, I stayed with him for a few months, I actually don't remember a whole lot. I was drinking and getting into drugs at that time. So, Christmas time comes and my mom asks me to come home for Christmas, I was so proud. My nephew would come and stay with me at the gang house alot, he was always there, I would not desert him, thus it kept me in contact with my Mom because he lived with her and my sisters. So, I go home for Christmas eve and I am going to spend the night there and do Christmas. I brought my duffel with my clothing and it was snowing really heavy out. I am guessing it was about five p.m. and when I got there my mom said I should go up and take a hot bath. So I did. Then I was headed to the basement where I would be sleeping when I heard my horrible sister begin screaming at my mom. My sister was saying I had left a hair on the soap. I told them I had brought my own toiletries, so it was not my hair. She was livid and crazy and went and got the soap. The hair was brown but short, like my nephews. My mom told her this and she kept going and going and going and going. I heard her from the basement and began methodically packing my duffel. I headed up the steps, put on my coat, and told them I would be leaving. My mother and good sister were obviously upset. But...the horrible sister would have ruined their Christmas, so....I told them I had another place to go and left into the blizzard like weather. That is when I think the full break happened. I took a train to Penn Station and spent Christmas in Penn waiting for a bus to take me as far I could get. I ended up in an industrial part of Pennsylvania, out of money, no food. Oh well, **** it, I started hitchhiking. I spent two years out on that road. I never called home. I cared less and less as time went on. I thought of my children, but also figured they were better off without the likes of me. Well, let me tell you the road is no place for a young woman. I was naive, sheltered, uneducated on any form of life on the streets. But that was all going to change and fast. There are some very good people out there, but the majority are bad when you are on the road. They will beat you down, chew you up and spit you out with no remorse. I can say those two years are a big blur. I will post what I remember, and hope to remember more as these are my lost years.

I swore I would never sell myself for food or money. Do you know how hard it is when you won't? People will give you Drugs, Alcohol and Cigs, but food, hell no, you can go for days without food. I used to dream of a can of corn to mix with a can of pineapple. Sounds wierd but that was always my craving. I would stay up for hours on end, never safe to sleep. I was a rabbit and the world was full of owls and hawks. I was prey. I did not know that social services would help me, remember I was raised sheltered. I did not know that I could go to a homeless shelter. I just had to keep moving. Keep going. From California to New York. From Canada to Mexico. I had to have hitchhiked 100,000 miles. No, I am not kidding. Yes, I am serious. What did I focus on, trying to find a meal, trying to find a ride, trying to not get killed. Or was I trying to commit suicide out there, but was too chicken shit. Or maybe it was my Catholic roots, you cannot kill yourself, so put your ass out on a road day and night and eventually you will take the wrong ride and wind up in a ditch. Well, they tried. I fought for my life, so if I am trying to commit suicide on the road, why fight for my life so hard. Perplexing.

So, I can remember it being a fairly warm day, I am on I80 in Illinois, headed east towards N.Y. and I am wearing a pair of shoes that were putting blisters on my blisters and my feet were killing me. So I decide to head north on a hiway that will take me to Chicago so that I can find a Good Will, or Salvation Army where I can get some cheap used shoes to ease the pain. I go north to the river and then caught a ride that took me East I believe and ended up in a downtown bad looking neighborhood, the Salvation Army store (a large one) was on the right and a tattoo parlor was on the left. All I could think about was find some shoes and get out of this city before it turns dark. So....I found a pair of Colorado Hiking boots. Good Condition too. And started walking to find a more traveled road to catch a ride on. I got to the road by the river/lake and was headed east to try and find the interstate to take me south and back to I80. It was dusk and this Young (approx. 20-23) black man, wearing white shirt and sweats, driving a nice car picked me up and asked me if I was crazy for being in that neighborhood. I told him I just wanted to get back to the highway to take me back to I80. He told me there was a short cut that would take me through and place me on the Indiana side and he would take me there and I would be back on I80 there. It is now dark and he says that he needs to make a quick stop, I am in a vacant lot across from a tall wide building, think it was the projects. He said wait in the car and I did. I waited for about 2 hours, no kidding. In the meantime I saw not one white person, now I am as little prejudiced as they really come, but....I had this gut feeling I was in the Southside and I knew my mortality rate was nil if I had to walk out of that neighborhood. (Sorry if this insults anyone, I don't mean to). Well, he comes back to the car and asks me if I want to get high, I told him "no", My gut told me something was going a miss. He then asked me if I was "packing", I told him no. He then piledrived is elbow straight into my face. He did this approx. 5 times, my nose and lips as well as gums were bleeding. He then decided it was time to rape me. I remember thinking that he had me cut and dry just with the Neighborhood I was in. No need to hurt me.

Well the deed was completed and he asked me to remove myself from his vehicle, which in my eyes was a death sentence. So.....I reminded him that he had promised to take me to the highway. He seemed exasperated that I would even say this at this point. But....he kept his promise, speeding off the minute I left the door, surely did not want me to get his plate #. I was a bloody mess, but I never called the Police, why? What would they have done. I had such a vague discription.

I remember being on the road and ending up in El Paso Texas. I was hanging out with a bunch of homeless people, not far from the interstate, I think it was I10, but I am not positive could have been I20. We were where this obviously old giant building had beem knocked down and there was a giant mound of rubble, with large uneven blockes of broken building wall in a pile. I sat there for hours and shot the crap with a bunch of other people I did not know. Everyone on the road has a story. I however did not want to spend the night with these people and the the sun was on the down side, so I got to the interstate and caught a ride with two guys in a pick up truck, older model, They had a gun, I believe a rifle in the back window on a rack. I sat by the door the younger guy in the middle, and the older guy was driving. They took me west to a place that was real close to El Paso, but we were in New Mexico now. Anthony, New Mexico. These guys were real hillbilly sorts, and were carrying on. Well, we were on a hiway going west for that I am sure, and there was a break in the wire fence that lead straight out into desert. (Maybe if someone on this site lives near there, they can tell me where the hell I was). They were acting sexual in nature and asking questions about a girl like me and if I wanted some. This torment went on for only a few minutes, we were actually off road and it appearred to be in Sand Dunes of sorts. They were sure to let me know that the army uses this area to practice war games and that they would not be out there at this time of the year. They took their guy and loaded it and told me to get out in front of the vehicle and walk. Well, I knew I was dead, no doubt. They were going to shoot me. I looked at them still at the truck right side door and asked, "why". They were laughing and shouted at me now, very ugly toned and said, "I Said Walk". The younger of the two was out and standing now with gun in hand. So, I walked, straight forward ahead toward the dunes, no use in running, you cannot outrun a bullet. I was so tired of fighting this life anyway, so **** it. I kept my walk calm, did not scream, cry or even look back. I was going to die with my dignity and not feed their festivities. Then I hear them yell for me to turn around, well I was waiting for my head to explode and I turned around. They said, "Get back here". So I went back and they layed the gun on the dash and told me to get in. I sat in the middle this time, wondering what had just happened. They took me to the highway and let me go. They almost seemed pissed at me the whole ride. I think they wanted dramatics, a show per say. I think I may have saved my life that day. Don't know.