Because Lent is coming next week, and I am extremely religious, it didnt seem right to bear down hard on this hunger strike until afterwards. Lent is about Christ. And so therefore I will continue to adhere to the 1 cup orange or apple juice, 1 egg, 1 bread, 1 TBsp butter, 1 small bottle of kefir in the day. At night its rice or chicken broth. Handful of nuts. 3 prunes. Two cups of black tea. And a fish oil based monster vitamin. Similar to the “Daniel” fast. All along, I am directing my fast to God, not the political establishment. I ask His protection while I write. It is giving me a place to channel my grief at how we were treated in Sacramento county. How my husband of 27 years died is now burnt into my memories. How he was treated before and after. People in prison have more care. I have so much PTSD. I have lost 60 lbs since he died in July. But then again, I have certain lumps in all the wrong places (for example. 2″ in right breast/ maternal aunt died of breast cancer + mass in my left arm that aches constantly) any of that might be at the root of my weight loss, unusual for a woman of 60 overweight her whole life. So you see, I insist I have the right to die in my own home and not in a congregant homeless shelter, which is the only “service” the City has offered on any of their several visits. That’s obscene to even think it okay in a pandemic.
As I eat this austere way thru Lent itself, I feel I will be more prepared for what will come next. Like the hunger strikers of the IRA (I grew up in Europe, mostly England and Scotland)… …I intend to “turn my face to the wall and die”. I will not live this way. I demand to be allowed to be legally in my own home. I am an American-born Scottish Traveller. An ethnic nomand. Gypsies live on wheels. I demand housing rights.