Accidental Lactivist

To the Thief that stole my package,

I’m not sure what went through your mind when you saw a package on my doorstep that you decided you would take. Are you that desperate for money? Are you starving to eat? Are you strung out on drugs? Did you think you could sell whatever the contents were in that package to help whatever your situation is? 

I’m usually a very sympathetic person. I’m sympathetic to struggle. I’m sympathetic to being poor. I’m sympathetic to the hungry. I’m sympathetic to those addicted to drugs. I understand that sometimes we end up in life circumstances that we may have never envisioned, and I try to live my life without judging others. I am also aware that this may have been the actions of someone very young and stupid.

Your actions of stealing my package have much graver consequences than you would have envisioned, had you ever even stopped to think about consequences. While you may have envisioned scoring something really cool inside that package, maybe some flashy and obscenely priced sneakers, or something similar that would have been a wonderful addition to your wardrobe, or merely something to take to the nearest pawnshop in exchange for cash for your next fix.

But, no, you would not find the latest J’s. No name brand merchandise. No iPad, laptop, or electronic device. Disappointing, huh? Instead, you found a foam cooler inside the box that was inside the box. Odd, huh? When you proceeded to open the boxes enclosed you found an odd looking empty plastic container. If you didn’t know what it was the label would warn that it’s a sharps container for disposing of medical needles. Maybe this got you excited if you’re a drug addict, but your excitement would be short lived. As you proceeded to open the other boxes you discover a small box of alcohol pads. Then, inside that foam cooler, underneath at least two large icepacks you find another box with a weird looking name and a picture of a very odd looking needle. You might be questioning WTF is this? It’s not anything well known or advertised. Even many doctors in the medical community do not know what it is. So, maybe you were initially excited because maybe you could get high off it? It’s not an opioid or narcotic. Maybe you could sell it? But, after a little research you discover that it has absolutely no value to someone without my disorder/disease. There’s not a black market for this specialty medication. And, if there is you’d be HARD pressed to find it. And, if the icepacks weren’t a clue, this medication has to be refrigerated so the clock is ticking.

So what do you do with this package you stole that you can’t use and can’t sell? What a disappointment to you, huh?

Let me tell you about what that medication does for me. It helps me live. It helps me function. It helps me literally be able to get up in the morning. It helps me to LITERALLY be able to move my fingers, hands, wrists, arms, legs, knees, ankles. It helps protect my eyes from going blind. It helps prevent me from bleeding. It helps me be able to take care of my 13 month old baby and 6 year old. It helps me be able to hold my daughter, change her diapers, feed her food. It helps me be able to live as normal of a life as I can- drive my children to school and daycare so I can go to work to make a living to support my children because I’m a single parent. Without my medication I have to live in pain and not functioning and with the agony of worrying about taking care of and providing for my innocent children.

As is, my medication dosage does not last until my next injections. For the past week I’ve already been symptomatic and have been eagerly awaiting the delivery of that package so I can be given my VERY PAINFUL injections that take 24-36 hours to start working, to get my body back into a better functioning state for the next few weeks.

I was so tired and worn out that night and eager to get home to my injections. Instead, I arrived home to my package missing. In the 8 years of living at my address I have never had a package go missing. EVER. I get a lot of packages delivered because I do a lot of online shopping because I don’t have the time and many times the energy to physically do everything because of my illness.

I cried. As the tears were streaming down my face my 6 year old asked what was wrong and I told her someone stole my package that has my medication that keeps me healthy. My daughter got teary eyed. At her young age she’s had to deal with my illness, with mommy always going to the doctor, hospital, going to stay with Nana and Papa so they can help care for us when I’m too ill to do it on my own. She knows she doesn’t want her mommy sick. I tried to stop my tears from falling to be strong for her, but I couldn’t. Not that night. She sat quietly with me at the dinner table as I cried. She softly asked if maybe the mailman brought it to the wrong house? Then all we had to do was wait for the people at that house to bring it back. I told her that more than likely someone stole it. She didn’t understand why someone would steal it.

I spent an hour and a half on the phone with the postal delivery service and my insurance company trying to figure out what happened, because I still had hope that maybe, just maybe, it was delivered to the wrong house. Maybe the people who had it would realize it’s important and bring it back? I checked outside my house, around the perimeter, at least six times, each time thinking maybe I missed it. But, I knew I didn’t miss it. As I sat at the table explaining, giving confirmation numbers, insurance numbers, date of birth, address, over and over, I held in my tears as my left hand stopped moving- it was evident how badly I needed those injections. Then the tears started flowing as I worried that the insurance company would not deliver another dose/shipment because of the cost of the specialty medication. What would I do? Without my medication I knew what was going to happen, and it’s not pretty.

As I waited on hold here and there, while being transferred around I began to get angry. At first my anger was towards the person that stole my package. Then my anger turned to myself. How STUPID could I be to have a package delivered to my house?! So what that in 8 years I’ve never had a package go missing. I should have known better. I should have expected that people would steal my packages. Then I got even angrier that we live in a society with people that are so morally corrupt that the expectation should be that people are going to steal from you.

The postal delivery service did a package investigation and concluded that indeed they delivered my package to my house. As we suspected, someone came onto my property and stole my package. My regular postal delivery guy knows my house from all the packages he delivers and remembers dropping off this one. He suggested that I get a P.O. Box, and that’s what I’m going to have to do. An extra bill to pay, along with extra trips to the post office just because some people suck.