The Most Important Post I Will Ever Make

Fetus’ Sweet Success

Although my blog will remain my best friend, I have begun a new journey already:

Written November 4, 2011, 10:20 Pacific Time, BC, Canada. Start time 6pm – 4 hours 20 minutes earlier. So the official start time was 6pm this day.

It’s a sister journey, or it would not be on this site. In fact it’s a twin sister journey and if I could get closer I would. I’m venturing into the unknown, at least for me. I really don’t know what the exact result will be when I’m done but I certainly hope for the best result possible. It may be difficult to do or it may be easier than I thought.

The reason for the journey will definitely be known at the hand of another, or perhaps, others, or heaven forbid, by the whole country, or wow, even the world. Maybe even I will actually know. It will certainly not be because of old age when I die. Truth is, my body was pretty tortured in its lifetime and I always thought I’d be lucky to hit 60. That’s what I keep telling people. And I’ll also dare to say, no one will guess of that sweet success conviction of mine. If someone were to guess than I would have to stop. Or would I? This one I cannot answer. I also cannot guess whether or not this has been done before. But you know the world. It’s big and I’m not, well, er, omniscient.

I’m not trying to not taunt anyone. If you feel that feeling, I apologize. It’s only if I were to tell you or him or her it wouldn’t work and I am most afraid I would fail then. Kept internalized it is most safe. Let it out, it loses all verility and the same thing would happen as when I first started to fight for the fetus. It would slowly drag on for years and I can’t sit idly anymore. We all need action now fom the government.

Since exactly, Oct 31^st,1996, when I first began fighting for the fetus (foetus, fœtus, faetus), FASD associations, societies, non-profits or individuals who just didn’t take me seriously, made me then, in my mind, feel disappointed. Then angry. It was the “angry” that always picked me up when I had my lapses and I fought through a few let me tell you. (One Vancouver aftercare organization actually Emailed me and said they would never work with an organization called “Fetuses Against FASD.”) But the problem and the solution since my beginning was most staggeringly simple to me: the fetus. All along it was the fetus that needed the voice. Nothing else. No one else. Just the fetus. Of course we all know that but who has ever really listened? Practically no one if you take into account all of Canada as a street survey of mine revealed where 91% did not know what the letters “FASD” meant. I am proud of the mom’s who did quit. Terribly happy for the kids who made it. It is a tough go after all for those who dearly loved to drink here and there.

So my big goal was to be the voice of the fetus and nothing else at all. Every organization against me can chew on aftercare and swallow their ugly pride. It is sick to me for an organization to boast on their growing aftercare organization. It just makes more room for governments to let the prevention plan flounder, as they have done all along. The little that is available now is diddly-squat and would not be noticed on statistical paper in the end. Everyone in the know, knows it. It has gotten too big. And now we have 10 or more babies per 1,000 from 6 to 9 per thousand to be cared for with trillions of tax dollars. Yeah, that much. After care is a lifetime per child/adult.

After multitudes of scribblings and crumpled up paper, when I introduced my first brilliantly thought out organizational name, “Fetuses Against FASD,” I really thought I had had something really exciting to work with. I was inwardly proud and was so happy to insert the outgrowths of my first papers into 3 envelopes and then post them to, ME. I would keep these for court should I need them later. It was mine – the name. It was the fetus’ too. And then I invented, “When the fetus speak’s, I listen.” Ideas poured into my faltered brain and I wrote and wrote – more crumpled papers – but importantly, more self-addressed envelopes. Still have them all in a box, now buried. In fact I forget which box.

I am sure a regular reader of my blog would know by now that I have ARND, the highest and, initially, the most invisible incidence rate of FAS disorders. More of me are in any prison this very moment than any other. More of me are hopelessly in dire straights and do not even know yet why. But only a few will in time.

And my blog, my precious blog was born on April 30^th, this year, 2011. Not a very attractive starting date. Oh well. The good news, with a lot of effort on my part sitting here on disability in my recovered cracked leather chair, is I am making good progress. My hits are not increasingly exponentially but what is the one below that? That one.

So what the hell have I just started this evening?

You could say, it’s like the Twilight Zone, yet there is nothing unreal about it. You could think it’s a trick; a hoax, but nothing could be more real and genuinely concrete to me, and then, later, perhaps for you, or you, or you but not for all. I’ll let you allow your imaginations to run wild, but I already know you’ll go too far with that. I may be accidentally implying that something scary or freaky is going to happen, but neither of those is true. Nor is it without good, a real good that is going to get big attention.

Tell you what. Don’t go senseless wondering. I know you won’t anyway. I just want you, my supporters and the government of Canada to just know that I’m up to something good that I hope will change the face of FASD forever and that my “SPEAK FOR ME” method will work, putting nay-sayers back into their seats.