Letter | Where’s my kiss?
I never got kissed for the shaft I feel I’ve gotten.
I’m an 89-year-old woman. I started working around 6 years old, pulling my red wagon around to sell the pies Mom made. We had to do something to eat during the Great Depression.
After I grew some more, I worked making circuit boards.
Now that I am 89 (born 1929), I get out of breath just going to the bathroom.
Three boys (U.S. Navy) and two girls later, I am on oxygen 24/7. They managed to withhold money from my wages for years with no interest. I need help to shower, dress, etc., but someone wrote I’m independent. Wait till they get to be 89 and see how independent they are (if they are still around).
I have an idea – put a clothespin on your nose and try to get air to breathe while putting on pants, a bra, and your other clothes. It isn’t easy and I need air to breathe.
Do something now before it’s too late. You’ll get the shaft, too, from the VA.