DEC. 1, 1998

Today is World AIDS Day. I spent the entire day in hospital, having tests done, and being given treatment.

I am absolutely drained tonight but promise to write more in the next few days.





DEC.18th, 1998

It's been a long time since I've written in this journal and i apologize for this. I've been quite ill, and have little energy lately.

I am now on iv 6 hours a day. My doctor has arranged for home nursing, and I also have a homemaker come in once a week for two hours.

When they first brought my medical supplies Nvwati was terrified of the iv pole! It was SO funny!

I am self administering my iv, meds, etc.

Last night the First Nations community in Toronto held an Honour Ceremony and Feast for me. It was so touching! Many people in our community attended, as well as some non native friends of mine. It was good to do some drumming and singing again but I must have pulled a muscle on my arm cuz it's quite sore today.

Earlier this week I had a 10" midline iv put into my arm. This stays in permanently. It's not a pretty sight with about a foot of iv tubing hanging outta my arm all the time. i jokingly told the nurse it is gonna look lovely in my strapless gown for new years eve. LOL





APRIL 11, 1999

It's been a long time since I've written in this journal. Been busy healing from a relationship, and other health related issues. It's been up and down health wise. I now have visiting nurses coming in, homemaking services and home hospice set up.

I've also been having lots of online friends coming to visit me. It's been great!

We're planning a gathering this summer, so I gotta hang on now! LOL

My funeral outfit is being made for me, as is my casket. I specifically want one of old pine ones, so friends in my community are making one for me! Everything seems to be falling into place.

I had another visit with my two youngest grandchildren last week and all three will be here again this weekend. I'm looking forward to that!

Saturday we went up to one of my favourite rez's for a visit and then up to Sudbury to visit an online friend. We brought her a surpirse Birthday Party. It was a hoot! Nvwati, of course sang her Happy Birthday. Nvwati's second birthday was April 1st and he and I had a small party together.

I'm busy right now making giveaway gifts for Ceremonies to be held in May.



APRIL 18, 1999
Another friend has died. Sarah was killed in a single car wreck. She was put on life support but died nine minutes after they were turned off. I am numb.

I was able to call and talk to her while she was in a coma. Wished I could have been there with her but she was too far away. The sounds of the machines in the background keep going through my mind....the bleeping of the heart monitor, the sound of air being forced into her lungs.
It still hasn't sunk in that Sarah is gone. I guess my mind is protecting me by putting me in shock right now.

It's strange but the last few times Sarah and I were together, she kept talking nonsense, saying things like she had this feeling I wouldn't be here when she got back from her visit to the rez. She must have known on some level that we wouldn't see each other again.

Rest, dear Sarah, rest.

~~SARAH~~
She came into this world, a plumeless little one with tiny fragile bones. Her mother nursed her into health, with songs of the Ancestors, stories to brighten her days, and all the love a child could want.

As time passed, she grew into a beautiful eagle woman, her spirit soared when at the knees of her Elders, while drumming or strumming her guitar. she glowed.

This woman touched all who crossed her path. She always had a kind word to say to those usually ignored by others. She had a way of making even the grumpiest of people smile.

She was a strong warrior woman, never backing off to anyone who dared to challenge her rights as an anishnawbe kwe, always in the forefront when things got tough.

She was equally a gentle woman, in her very love of life, when handling a small egg that fell from a nest or when spending intimate times with those she loved.

Sarah had zero tolerance for lack of respect of our Traditions or our Elders.

She had this way about her. When facing situations that might be difficult for others, she'd look within and find beauty. Whether that be gently stroking her finger along the scars of mastectomies, when she'd smile and say, "WOW! they're just like sundance scars" or when she would come across roadkill, get out of her car and take care of it saying, " go on your journey now little one. but next lifetime, watch out for those crazy drivers, eh?"

And so last week, Sarah left for a 28 hour drive to visit her aging Nokomiss. Nine hours short of her destination, the Spirits called out to her, and always willing to do as the Spirits asked, she went with them.

We don't know yet if it was a four legged she swerved to miss or if she fell asleep behind the wheel of her rez car. She was found pinned underneath her car. Her family made the painful decision to remove life support on Friday, April 16th. She chose not to breathe after this happened.

Now she soars amongst the Eagle Spirits, watching over those she left behind.

Soar freely sister. I love you and miss you.

This journey from life to the next world is an interesting one to say the least. Lately I've been blessed with both.

MAY 13,1999
some wonderful new awarenesses.
Miigwetch wendaam to my wonderful Elders who have so willingly passed on their knowledge to me, miigwetch to my friends who have traveled this road before me, and for my Ancestors for their guidance.
I've come to a new place of acceptance in my life today.
The things that used to bother me no longer do. Now when I get unwanted mail I simply return it to sender or delete it if it is on the internet. I have NO TIME for ongoing dramas in others lives anymore.
LIFE IS NOT A DRESS REHEARSAL
Isn't that cool? LOL I saw it on a tv commercial and it really hit home with me.
Today I'm at a place that petty crap no longer affects me. Life is just too short to allow this to take up too much of my mind space. I would much rather be around postive energy.
This spring weather has been a real blessing to me....a time of rebirth in many ways. The flowers are blooming, the leaves are on the trees now. I LOVE SPRING! LOL
Daily as Nvwati and i go to the park we are greeted with the sweet aroma of the lilac trees, and the beauty of the deep purple irises now in bloom.
I spend more time outdoors with him now that the weather has gotten better.
Today is a good day to live. Today is also a good day to die!



JULY 20,1999<
A LOT has happened since I last posted here in my online journal. Not quite sure to begin, except to say that I am obviously still alive. I began a new cocktail... a super aggressive one about 2 1/2 weeks ago. My doc warned me that the side effects were horrible and I would wish I were dead til they settled down. He was right!!!!
This combo includes a real yukky tasting liquid med that needs to be ingested twice a day, resulting in at least two hours of nausea and sever stomach pain for hours later. My doc says this is hopeful...it means the meds are killing off the hiv cells. LOL..I phoned his office the day after I began taking them and told his nurse that whoever invented Retonivir needs to be assasinated. She laughed so hard and made sure that was written in my file. She says my doc got a big laugh outta it when he saw it. I will be seeing him on Wednesday for monitoring so I will be able to let you know in a few weeks whether or not they appear to be working for me.
I was also able to go out on a Spiritual Fast just before beginning this cocktail. What can I say?? It was THE most amazing experience of my life. I still get all teary eyed when I think of my little lodge. How I wanted to bring it home with me!
I could not have gotten through these past few months without the unconditional love and support from my friends online and offline, and I want to thank each and every one of you. MIIGWETCH WENDAAM!!
I've also begun to open my heart to being loved again....this time in a good way. I will also keep you posted on this as it evolves.





JULY 20,1999<
My beloved Nvwati passed away suddenly and unexpectedly on Sept. 28, 2007. His autopsy showed he died of a massive heart attack........... in my arms and without suffering.

It all but broke my heart to say goodbye to him.

Nvwati now rests on top of my fireplace amongst his Memorial stuff.

Mkwaa's little heart was broken - she would pace the floors looking for her brother. She refused to eat, was not interested in playing with her dog friends at doggie park.

Three weeks after Nvwati passed away I heard of a man who was desperately looking for a home for his 10 year old dog. I hesitated, not sure I could open my heart again to love another furbaby, but he was so desperate I agreed to try it for a weekend.

Towards the end of the conversation I thought to ask what kind of dog it was. Imagine my surprise to find out he was a red and white siberian husky!

Yukon Jack has been with us in our family now since October. He is a very good boy, a real sweetie. Yukon is just enough NOT like Nvwati that I don't look at him and think of Nvwati.

Mkwaa is MUCH better now.

NOVEMBER 16, 2008

So much has happened since I last updated. Sadly we lost Yukon Jack to a brain aneurism in May of this year. It broke our hearts.

Mkwaa and I have moved into a new apt. in a brand new building and we love it here.

In August, my cousin Carolyn was brutally murdered in Toronto. The police have a few good leads into who is responsible for her murder but no arrests have been made as of yet.

Hello. While a patient at a hospice three years ago, I heard that Narcotics Anoymous( NA ) was accepting submissions of short stories of addicts who sought recovery. I sat at the computer and wrote my story and sent it in. I received word last Monday that my story was in NA's Sixth Edition of the Basic Text. On Friday, I received my hard copy and I was also sent a gold 25 year recovery medallion. Life on Life's Terms ( Pg 335 sixth edition Basic Text, Narcotics Anonymous) One Potato by Amber O I am writing this from an AIDS hospice in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, where I am currently residing. I surrendered to the disease of addiction and found recovery in 1983. When I first walked into our rooms, I found every reason possible to not want to be there. I was the only lesbian, the only native person, and there were so few women! It wasn’t until after about a month of attending daily that I realized I wasn’t that important—that others in the rooms didn’t care who I was, where I was coming from, or what I had used. They only cared about me, as an addict seeking recovery. I always arrived late and left before the Serenity Prayer at the end. There was no way I was going to let anyone hug me, let alone get to know me. And there was no way I was going to pray to a God who, in my opinion, had never done anything for me. I had prayed daily as a child—praying that God would stop the abuse, praying that God would help my mother stop drinking, praying that God would bring my daddy back to me. Those prayers were never answered, so I wasn’t about to pray to God now. When I was about ten days clean I packed up and moved across the country. I ended up in Seattle, where I had lived before. My first stop was at an ex-partner’s house, knowing she would have drugs. It had been a few years since I had seen her, and she looked different. I told her I was hurting bad and needed a fix. She looked at me and said she knew exactly where to get what I needed. We headed off in her car to a large yellow house. Imagine my surprise when I realized that she had brought me to a recovery house, where meetings were held daily! It was a speaker meeting that night, and my ex was sharing her experience, strength, and hope. She ended by suggesting to all newcomers that they find a home group, get a sponsor, and attend ninety meetings in ninety days. I looked around the room and saw a woman I could relate to. I figured she would make a good sponsor, so I asked her to sponsor me. She told me she would, and we should get together to talk about it. That very night, she and two others got high and ended up in a car wreck. Those with her died instantly. She hung on. When I found out the next day at a meeting, I went to visit her in hospital. What I saw shocked me. She had lost her arms and legs in the crash. I looked down at her and thought, “This is my sponsor.” She died the following day. When I was ninety days clean, I again packed up and moved to Portland, Oregon. There, the first person to greet me was a military police officer in recovery. After the meeting she invited me to join her and others for coffee. I was amazed at the fun we had that night. We laughed a lot, we talked about everything—not just about recovery—and I learned that there were many other single parents in the rooms. I was gifted with a Basic Text when my home group members realized I didn’t have one. I attended meetings daily, bringing my children with me when necessary. I contributed to the Seventh, and I think I may have volunteered to do a reading—once. No one knew when my first anniversary came up because I never shared. My children were having a sleepover at a friend’s house, so I attended a meeting that night, but turned down offers to go out for coffee. I had other plans. I went home and hung myself in my basement. The God I didn’t want saw fit to have a flood take place in my home that night, and when the plumber arrived he found me hanging in the basement. I was immediately cut down. I woke up in hospital several days later to find that woman from the meetings sitting by my bed. She was holding my hand and telling me to hang on, praying to the God she loved to give me one more chance. Once I was coherent enough to speak, she asked me if I had called my sponsor before trying to kill myself. I shook my head no and told her I did not have a sponsor. Knowing I would never ask, she said, “Well, you do now! I will temporary sponsor you until you can find one.” She ended up “temporary sponsoring” me for the next eight years. That relationship ended only when her God called her home. About six months after she began sponsoring me, I went to make an amends. As I was driving along the highway, I found myself talking out loud. This “Higher Power” stuff was heavy on my mind, because I heard it every day at meetings. Having been raised Catholic, I knew about miracles, and I asked that if there was a God, I would be given some sign. I said this aloud. Suddenly, the truck ahead of me lost its load. Bushels of potatoes fell all over the highway. I parked my car and got out to help the farmer. He was very grateful and offered me a bushel. I said, “No, thank you—but can I have one potato?” He didn’t know why I wanted one, but said, “Sure!” When I got home I immediately called my sponsor. “I think I found my Higher Power,” I told her. She invited me to come over to talk about it. I packed up my potato and walked into her home. I held out my hand. She looked at the potato, looked at me, and in her wisdom asked if it had a name. I told her its name was Spud. She smiled at me and said, “How wonderful! SPUD—Special Protection Under Direction!” The topic at the meeting that night was, of course, “Higher Powered.” I shared my experience. Nobody laughed at me. After the meeting, I allowed members of our fellowship to hug me for the first time. I began working the steps, and found myself getting a cake and a keytag for the anniversary I had not celebrated. Members also gave me many gifts—potato chips, a potato hat, gift certificates for French fries, and bags of potatoes. It was during this time that Patrick came into my life. He attended many meetings but had been gone for some time. Everyone assumed he was out using. When he returned to the rooms, he was very thin and obviously unhealthy. He shared that he had spent months in hospital with AIDS-related complex, and that he was dying. I didn’t know Patrick well, but he had shared that he had no family, and I had just enough recovery in me to know that no one need die alone when he is a member of NA. I reached out, offering to be on his care team. Patrick taught me a lot about living during the next four months. I held his hand while he took his last breath, and the fellowship made sure he had a decent funeral. Patrick showed me how to live and how to die clean. When I was two years clean, I was working my Ninth Step. I knew in order to continue recovering I had to get real honest with my sponsor, and then I had to surrender to police on old felony charges. In 1980 I had kidnapped my own children, attempting to protect them from further abuse by their father. I was wanted on a total of five felony charges as a result. My sponsor didn’t judge me. She only asked if I was sure I had to do this, and if I could handle the consequences. I didn’t feel I had any other choice. I knew if I was going to recover I had to be willing to go to any lengths, and making amends was something I had to do. In order to surrender to police, I had to return to Canada. Standing in front of the judge brought back many memories for me. But this time I was clean and my prayers to God were not “Please keep me out of jail, I promise not to do this again!” Now I let go and asked God to decide what would be best. After a long trial, the jury found me guilty. I was facing a total of fifty years in prison. I knew it would be tough, but I also knew that members from hospitals and institutions committees would attend the prison, bringing messages of recovery inside, and that we could hold meetings of our own in prison. The judge, however, saw that I was in recovery and overturned four of the five guilty verdicts. She sentenced me on only one charge, “harboring.” At sentencing, she said she had no doubt that I felt the need to harbor my children, and that I was in recovery, and had offered honest information that I could well have denied. I ended up living in Ottawa, Ontario, working in a shelter. There I reconnected with my native roots and spirituality. I was seven years clean when I was raped and stabbed during the Oka crisis. My doctor stitched me up and gave me an HIV antibody test. The test came back negative. So did the next test six months later. I found it extremely difficult to remain in Ottawa after the attack, and moved to Rochester, New York, where I had many friends in recovery. I knew they would help me deal with this violence against me, and help me continue to recover. A month after I arrived in Rochester, a friend shared that she was scared to go for her HIV test. I agreed to go with her. Her test came back negative. Mine came back reactive. I asked the doctor what this meant and he told me that I had HIV, and would develop AIDS and die. I told no one. For six weeks I sat alone in my apartment, not answering the phone or door, not attending meetings. Even though I knew I had contracted HIV through the rape, I was filled with shame. It felt like a bomb had been dropped in my lap. I was terrified of what lay ahead, having seen so many friends die from AIDS. I made the decision that rather than bring shame to my family or hurt those in recovery who loved me, it would be better if I died. I didn’t want to use, so I went to a bridge. I was about to jump when I felt my father’s energy around me. I swear I could even smell Brylcreem! I remembered the words he used to tell me as a child: “If you ever doubt the love of your Creator, go hug a tree!” Slowly I stepped off the bridge and made my way to an old tree on the shore. I sat, hugging it, and cried. I attended a meeting the next day and shared. About a year later I decided to return to Canada, hoping that my illness would help to bring my dysfunctional family back In 1990, there was a three-month-long armed conflict between the Mohawk Nation of Kanesatake and the government of Quebec in together. I thought I needed to be near my children and my grandchildren. I soon learned that ongoing contact with my family would only keep me sick. Nothing was going to mess with my recovery. I decided that if God saw fit for me to have HIV, I was going to do Her or His will, and take care of me first. I also got training and became an AIDS educator. I traveled across the country doing AIDS prevention and education workshops, bringing the message of hope to those still stuck in the disease of addiction that it was not too late for them, that they could recover! It has been fifteen years since I was infected with HIV. This disease has taken its toll, but I did what was suggested. Most importantly, I did not use! It was not until a doctor told me that I was going to die that I truly began to live. Each day, I thank Creator for another day of life, another day of recovery, and ask what I can do to help someone that day. Hopefully, sharing my story will help one addict find recovery.

What an honour! To be published in NA's Basic Yext around the world in many different languages!!!

I stare at my medallion and am in awe that it has been a quarter of a century since I have used.

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JOURNAL (6)
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