1 Year Post Spinal Surgery

Oct 28, 2026 would be 1 year since my spinal surgery.

1 year ago to this day, I was not able to sit, stand or walk for very long. Towards the end of October 2025, I was not able to lay down either. Everything was just painful. I was on a long list of medications which was not helping. The last resort was a dose of Hydromorphone - 8 times stronger than Morphine - and it didn't even hit me. 

1 year later...well, a lot has happened as you know. But from a spinal perspective, the sciatica is mostly gone. The burning sensation is gone. The sharp shooting pain is gone. All I've had to deal with was mostly just random muscle aches. 

I've attended physio as much as I could, to learn all the proper body mechanics and exercises to continue when I feel aches. The key is, to keep moving. Once you get lazy and stop or stay stagnant, the aches will come back. On-going proper posture is also key in maintaining good spinal health. 

I was hoping to celebrate my 1 year post surgery, but unfortunately dad didn't get to make it to this day. It's not so much of a celebration now, but more of a throwback. 

Overall, I had maintained all the postures, all the exercises leading up to dad's hospitalization. Once he physically depended on us to help him, the repeated duties started to strain my back. Sometimes in the spur of the moment, I forget that I'm suppose to do this or that, and end up straining myself more than I should. Because I was just too focused on dad's well-being that I threw mine out the window.

Eventually I had to stop myself (along with my family scolding me that I pushed myself too much) if I didn't want to go through with another spinal injury and surgery. I had to remind myself to not twist or bend too much, but use my core if I wanted to help dad. I had to rewire my brain again. 

Ever since dad passed, my back has continued to ache. I meant to go back to physio, but once again, I'm stuck in my time phase. I know I need to do my exercises but haven't gotten to them just yet. However, I keep myself moving instead of staying still. 

My scar has healed nicely. I mean it could've healed much nicer if I had continuously used my scar cream but I got lazy in between and didn't put it on as frequently as I should. 

Aside from random cold feelings on my leg, or just this random feeling of numbness at times, overall I feel way better than last year. The surgery was a blessing in disguise. I'm still amazed how quick I was seen, and I thank God everyday that the surgery happened last year, and not this year. Otherwise there was no way I could help look after dad in the state that he was in. Physically it would've been very challenging. Given that I had time to heal, it gave me all the opportunity to help dad this year. God is wonderful, and I got to thank Him for sending me an amazing surgeon who took care of me. 

I don't use a cane anymore (woohoo). And although it's been more than a year since I wore heels, I was cleared from the surgeon to wear them again. But fair warning, to not fall over. Got it doc!

Last night, I went to watch Resident Evil (honestly, it was stupid. I prefer the first one 20+ years ago which had way more action) and wore my Loub heels for the first time in over a year. Thankfully it was a short walk because my feet started to really ache. I know I should work my way up to heels again. I just can't find my wedges. But anyways, it's a work in progress. Now that winter is just around the corner, I'm taking a long break from wearing heels. Maybe next year I'll try again. 

Although I'm cleared to now twist and bend, I still have to be very cautious I don't overdo it. Climbing into the sports cars is much better now, although I'm still cautious and take my time getting in and out of them. At least I can drive comfortably now versus last year. 

I still try to be very careful around very heavy items. I know I can't push myself too much, but I use proper body mechanics to do any heavy lifting. Most times, other people will take on the heavy lifting or moving while I do the light things as everyone is terrified I will re-herniate again. Anything is possible.

For those who are in a similar situation as I was last year, keep telling your doctors. Push for answers. Don't sit back and just let them dictate for you. If you've tried all the conservative therapies and it's getting worse, tell your doctor to refer to a spinal surgeon. Don't want too long to get it looked at. 

October is spinal health month. We only have one spine in this lifetime. Make sure to take care of it.

I don't even know what to title this

I debated if I should continue with this blog. For those who have stuck around for the past 20 years, thank you. For those who are just discovering this blog of mine, welcome to my blog. For those looking for spicy tea, you probably won't find much but I welcome you here into my virtual brain.

Given that life is so fragile, and perhaps a bit too short, I figured I'll just keep blogging for as long as I physically can, until I cannot anymore. In a way as I get older, I can look back to this and scold myself, or if I ever start losing my memory, this would (hopefully) help to remember who I was. 

The next few (who knows how long, I can't predict) blog entries will probably be a bit depressing or sad, just because my mind is still grieving. I have no idea how to deal with it, but I'm just trying to take it a day at a time. There is no specific topic to this blog, so it will just be all over the place.

2 weeks ago today, we finally laid my dad to rest. 

It's a weird feeling - I wish I can describe it - but it just feels surreal how this was 2 weeks ago. It felt like yesterday. I don't know where the time went. But I wish we could just rewind back to a decade ago when things were so much better. When dad was still here. When we were traveling the world. When dad was finally enjoying his retirement. When things were cheaper. You get the idea. 

Back in March, I (along with a small group of colleagues) were busy trying to secure a venue for our workplace's big anniversary party. Considering this was a big one, we didn't want to disappoint. We needed time to prepare for this. Once we secured the venue, the planning went ahead. 1 month before the party, that's when things really became stressful - trying to finalize the numbers, decorations, all the little details. All this happened while we were still working full time.

At the same time, I was dealing with dad's radiation therapy and then eventual hospitalization post immunotherapy (I'm going to leave this for another blog entry). Initially we thought he would only be there for a few days but it turned into almost 6 weeks before his eventual passing. Given the shortage of nursing staff, I would be working my full time job Monday to Friday, and in between would be visiting him to make sure he was ok. Thankfully mom was always with him, but I was also there to help medically if no nurse was around. Once my job was done for the day, I headed straight up to the unit and stayed there til late night. Came home only if he was medically stable.

You can imagine the stress, the grief, the anger of it all when a few days before the workplace anniversary party was to happen, my dad passed away. Mentally and emotionally, I was not able to continue finalizing the party details - I had to pass it to my colleagues to help finish the final details - while I had to switch over to planning a funeral instead. 

Nothing in life prepares you for losing a loved one. Yes, we all know we aren't escaping death. We are all going to die some day. Yet when it actually happens to you, that's when it really hits. The reality of it all. 

I knew that when M passed away 11 years ago, at that time I was a disaster. It took me about 2 years to finally accept that he was gone, that there was nothing I could do, and during that time, I really did try everything I could do to keep him alive. M wasn't even human. He was a cat. And I kept telling myself...if I was such a disaster in dealing with a cat's death, how will I ever deal with a loved one's passing? Especially if it came to my parents? Would I have to admit myself to an asylum? Go on drugs? Take cocaine?

Deep down, I had this gut feeling that dad wasn't going to make it past 2026. Maybe it's the nursing intuition. Maybe it was God giving me signs to prepare myself. But I didn't expect it to happen this fast. Even though I knew the prognosis wasn't the greatest, somehow deep within you, you still hope. You still hope they can get out of here. Our goal was to try and bring him home so if he passes, he would be in the comfort of his own home. The home that he worked so hard to get. And yet, he didn't quite make it home. To me, that is one of those things that guilt has started eating away at me.

Secondly, it made me question myself as a health care practitioner. Did I do everything I could to keep him alive? What could I have done better? Why didn't I stand up for him more? Why is it that I fight for my patients, yet when I fought for dad, it felt unheard? Was I not vocal enough? Did I not challenge the doctor's medical decisions enough? The guilt of...not being able to keep your own family alive, while you still work on keeping others' family members alive and advocate for them...yeah, the guilt. 

I felt that the medical team did not do that for him, for us. There was no advocacy, except to go comfort care because THEY felt it would be the best for him. I've heard of all this before - that it would be the best for him, it would end his suffering. Why go through all this if he's just going to be worse than before? I've heard it all because I was the one providing that information to families. But when you are on the other side now, it takes on a whole different ballpark.

In between the days, I asked dad if he would like us to continue life sustaining treatments for him, especially if his heart stopped beating. Did he want CPR? Or did he want us to let him go? He responded....save me. 

A couple of days before dad passed away, he was on this high flow oxygen (called Airvo), so there was a lot of noise from the oxygen. At this point, he had trouble swallowing and he wasn't getting enough nutrition because he kept aspirating, even after restarting his G-feeds. He was just so weak. But even after all that, he looked at me and whispered "Yaya...I want to go home." 

You know, those words still kill me to this day. 

I told him, yes dad, I know you want to go home. We are trying to get you better so you can go home with us. Yet I felt that I couldn't fulfill his last wish. Another guilt to add to the book.

I know people keep telling me to not feel guilty, that I tried my best, that he's no longer suffering and is now free. But that's the thing. They can just say it and go about their day. But me? I can't do that. The brain just doesn't switch off and say ok, accepted. Let's move on now. It's a lot more complicated than that.

And that's another thing. I haven't lost anyone close to me, ever. When my colleagues or friends or other relatives who deal with immediate family loss, I offer them comforting words and a shoulder to cry on. But did I really know what grief meant at that time? Not at all. I was very fortunate that I didn't know what grief felt like. Until now. 

Grief is wild. I don't know about beautiful, but it's weird. 

The other day, I was opening up a bag of potato chips. Poured it into a bowl. And then I cried. It just happened - no control whatsoever. It hit me that...whenever I opened a bag of chips to eat, and dad was around, he would either sneak a few bites from my bowl, or take the remaining bag of chips and start eating it with chopsticks (yes, a very Asian thing to do). But now? I have no one to share my bag of chips with. I have no one to bother me about asking if they could sneak a few bites from my bowl, or taking the bag away from me. Sure, my mom is still here to eat with me. But it's just not the same. I feel like I'm still missing a piece of the puzzle.

It's also the moments of when I'm eating lunch or dinner, and I'm about to call dad to come and eat while looking at the sofa that he usually sits at, only to see it empty.

It's also walking by the room where I built both Lego Titanic and Concorde for dad, because he's always wanted a Titanic model, or his love of aviation. He would secretly try to play with the Concorde's flaps when I wasn't looking. Yet now when I walk by the room, or if I'm in the room staring at both models, I break down.

That's grief. Grief comes in many forms. And it will hit at anytime, any place, anywhere. School won't teach you how to deal with grief. A master's or PhD program won't teach you how to deal with grief.

People say it's beautiful because you have all these memories with your loved ones, that it reminds you of them. It brings back the love, the good times, and that you are fortunate to have all these positive memories. It keeps them alive, through you.

Yet, it's sad because building Lego for me now will always be depressing. It reminds me that this new set I'm building, dad isn't here to watch me build it, nor will he get to see it in person. He won't get to tell me "wow, that's amazing. That's not easy, but I'm so proud of you." 

And that's the thing. Dad always told me how proud he was of me. It didn't matter that I was rebellious and did stupid things behind his back, or that I went and wasted money on whatever item. He would always end our conversation with "No matter what, daddy loves you and will always be proud of you."

One of the things I regret is not taking enough pictures during big moments, such as the day I brought the Cayman home. The days leading up to that moment wasn't the greatest because here I went, going to a Porsche dealership and signed papers on a car that I didn't consult him to buy. Yes, I'm an adult and can do whatever I want with my money, but for these big moments, I should've involved him. But I was scared. Both mom and dad were quite mad when I did that and kept telling me I'm wasting my money. 

Yet, on the day that I went to pick up the Cayman, my dad came with me. But I was so afraid of judgement from my own family, that I told the dealership to just keep it subtle -  leave the car out, I'll sign papers real quick. No balloons or unveiling or anything. It felt like any regular car pick up. There was nothing special. 

Deep down, I really wanted a special moment. I worked hard, saved up and bought the car of my dreams. I should celebrate. But I let fear get to me. Instead of a celebratory moment, it felt like a secret. No pictures. No champagne. Nothing. And honestly, I should've celebrated. Dad worked hard all his life, and I wanted to make him proud. Having a daughter buy a Porsche in this lifetime? He wouldn't have believed it, but it happened.

Over the years, I let that fear eat away at me. For any car cruises, I could've asked him to come along, but then we'd be gone an entire day and I'd have to leave mom at home by herself. Car cruises were merely just my hobby. It's still tough to drive the Cayman knowing he's not here anymore, because he was the one who also came with me to pick it up and drive it home. At least THAT moment will forever be engrained in my head. But never once did I get to take a picture with him standing beside it. That's my regret when it came to the Cayman. I wish I could've at least taken some photos with him beside it or driving it. 

Everyday is tough. Going back to work at least helped to distract me from all my sadness. I'm also very blessed to have colleagues who are so supportive and understand what I'm going through. It helps to tackle each day at a time. But home time is the hardest for me, as all the memories of seeing him in familiar places get to me and it hits me hard. 

There are still certain rooms I have a hard time going into while at home. There is one particular bathroom that he used during his previous hospitalizations - made it easier for him. It's been 2 years and I haven't used the toilet there. Because I considered it his bathroom. Or his dinner chair. I can't sit in his spot because it's just weird. That's his spot, not mine. Same with the sofa. I can't sit where he sat all this time. His spare room. It feels weird going into it to look for something because those are his items, not mine.

I guess that's what grief is all about. The recovery. The healing journey. The reality that they're no longer here physically with us. 

I'm still coming to terms with this, so bear with me as I go through this journey, trying to navigate it and not go insane at the same time.

If you've made it this far, I thank you for reading. I thank you for sticking around. 

I saw dad in my dreams

Last night, I finally didn't take my Baclofen.

For a while now (or depending how I felt), I relied on muscle relaxants to ease my back especially after doing too much heavy lifting. In my case, dad needed a lot of help so it put a lot of stress on my body. 

After dad passed, my body and brain was under extreme stress and hurt (it still is). Every night I was exhausted but I couldn't sleep. So off I go, popping a pill. After a while, everything turns black and I don't wake up until the next morning. Dreams were non-existent. It was just pitch black every night.

Last night I was tired, but felt I didn't need any pills so I just dozed off.

I did wake up a couple of times at night for whatever reason. But this time I couldn't fall back asleep. Because this time, I finally dreamt about dad. I had waited for this moment for a while and was angry as to why I didn't have any dreams about him. But at last...

I had a vivid dream.

It was during the daytime at home. It was a nice, summer day with sunshine and a bit of a breeze. 

The windows to the family room were open. The white curtains were fluttering lightly in the wind, against the sun. In reality, we haven't opened those windows in years. 

I was in the hallway when I noticed this figure just outside of those windows. I saw someone dressed with a black suit, red tie with a white shirt and a green vest. 

It was dad.

He had on the exact same outfit in the picture that we had just picked out for him for the funeral.

At first it startled me because I was wondering why dad was on the outside of the house and not inside. Secondly, why didn't he say hi and hug me? 

I ran towards the window, calling for him.

He saw me, but he started to slowly walk away.

I ran even faster, to please wait for me. By the time I got to the window, I peeked outside and he was gone. I couldn't find him around the corner of the house.

Then I woke up. 

I haven't slept since that moment. It's been replaying over and over in my head. The last time I had a vivid dream was years ago after M passed away. 

I've been trying to decipher what this all means. The sunshine, the wind breeze, the curtains fluttering in the wind...it's all symbolic of the Holy Spirit, that God is here in the present. When one door closes, another opens. It's almost like going from earth to the heavens. This is especially symbolic given that our windows haven't opened in years. But now that it's suddenly opened, this would make sense.

The best verse that was provided to me: Revelation 21:4-5 --> And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away. Then He who sat on the throne said "Behold, I make all things new." And He said to me "Write, for these words are true and faithful." (NKJV).

It is true that there is no further pain or suffering for dad. This era is now over for him physically. When I saw him in my dream, he looked peaceful and not in pain, and he was dressed in a suit. He looked comfortable. 

It's still a struggle trying to wrap my head around the reality of it all. Nothing really prepares you for losing someone so close to you after so many years. Yes, we are all going to die physically - there is no escape. But I mean NOTHING prepares you for the emotional toil that comes after the death of a loved one. The grief hits at anytime, and anywhere. And it's ok to grieve. It doesn't mean you just say bye and move on with your life. It means learning to move forward with their memories engrained in you. 

In earthly words, I pretty much died on September 22nd. Nothing I do will bring back my dad, just like how I couldn't bring back M. All I can do now is to embrace all the love he had given me all these years, and continue to keep those memories alive as I continue to live as best as I can on this earth, until it is time to meet God, and I can finally see dad again.

Dad...

September 22 will be a day I'll never forget. 

Today is the day my dad passed away from complications of liver cancer, at 6:42pm. He was surrounded by my mom, brother and I. We were all there when he took his last breath. I am blessed that I was able to be with him until the end, just like how he had been there when I was born in the beginning. Not everyone gets to experience this, and for that I am grateful.

Heartbroken and devastation are understatements of how I feel at the moment. 

I knew he had been sick for a while, but he kept persevering through the tough times, as if he didn't even have issues, but I knew it was slowing him down. He had been in hospital for almost 6 weeks. 6 torturous weeks, which involved constant aspiration pneumonia, failed attempts at NG tubes, GJ tube insertion, aspirating constantly on his saliva, and then of course all the doctors ordering exuberant amounts of antibiotics because they all had no clue what was causing his aspiration. Was it the immunotherapy? Was it something else? No one could tell me. 

As a daughter, it is difficult watching your loved ones slowly drowning in their own saliva. When that happens, deep suctioning using a catheter is required and not all nurses are trained for that. Unfortunately I couldn't rely on staff to suction him all the time, so I used my expertise to help him breathe. Let me tell you, it is a horrendous experience for both. It's the most uncomfortable feeling for anyone to get any tubes stuck down their throats while awake. As a daughter, I wanted to save him and this was the only way to keep him breathing, so I had to help deep suction within boundaries. Too little of it and he would have difficulty breathing. Too much and it could cause more damage and more phlegm in the airway. 

I'm grateful for the nursing team for taking care of my dad as best as possible. But no thanks to one particular doctor. 

I pray that dad is now in a better place, pain free and no longer suffering.

I love you dad <3

No more captive whales...

Today, we celebrate the last remaining 6 whales that are being transported from Marineland to various aquariums in the USA and Spain.

Canada no longer has any further whales (orcas, belugas) and dolphins held in captivity. This marks the end of whale breeding and captivity.

Humans are the WORST to ever exist on this planet. All this started because fishermen would get paid thousands to capture these beautiful creatures, all for human entertainment. Money is the root of all evil. 

Imagine you get captured as a 2 year old, to swim and perform in a bathtub for the rest of your life. You get torn away from your family, and put into a tub full of other 2 year olds (all from different backgrounds), and are told to perform. The only way you get rewarded is if you do what you're told, and boom, you get a fish in your mouth. Congratulations. What a way to live a life.

This is exactly what the orcas had gone through for the past 50 years. The marine parks exploded in the 80's with many captured whales around the world, all set to perform and entertain guests. Yes, whales are very smart and people don't have to prove that. We can already see it in the wild. Why must you capture them to perform tricks in front of guests? Ohhhh right, so you as a corporation can get paid millions (yes, I'm looking at you SeaWorld and Marineland).

I'm so glad Marineland has finally shut down. It's a bitter sweet moment - as kids, we are all mesmerized by these gigantic beauties. I mean, which kid is lucky enough to take a boat into the wild and watch whales sky hopping in front of them? Probably not too many. Marine parks were the closest thing you can get to them. I think if they had created it as a sanctuary, then it would be better. But for entertainment purposes? Absolutely not.

When Keiko (i.e Free Willy) became so popular that kids all over the world wanted to set him free, it wasn't as easy as everyone thought. They had to build a huge sanctuary for him to train him how to hunt in the wild again. Because keep in mind, Keiko was captured near Iceland in 1979 and sold to various marine parks (including Marineland in 1982) where he was forced to perform. Keiko spent many of his years in captivity versus in the wild. You can't just throw a whale back in the wild, expecting them to adapt. After staring in the Free Willy movie franchise, a petition came to set him free into the wild. 

Considering these are highly intelligent mammals, they are also very high emotional animals. They have their own 'language' that they communicate with their own families. They cannot just join any random pod that they encounter in the wild because they wouldn't be speaking the same languages. And that is exactly what happened to Keiko when he was released into the wild.

Eventually Keiko experienced about a year of free wild life before succumbing to pneumonia in December 2003.

It's bitter sweet that these remaining belugas and dolphins are being sent to another aquarium instead of a sanctuary. But the reality is there is no such beluga sanctuary. No where in the world have they built one yet. Why move these belugas?

Because Marineland was threatening to euthanize all the whales if no one would take them. They actually used euthanasia as a bargaining tool because they didn't have enough money left to pay for the care of the whales. Can you imagine if hospitals did the same thing? If you don't take your family out of here, we will euthanize them because they're taking up a bed and we're losing money. Yeah, it's not going to end well. 

I wish I could say let's celebrate, but it is bitter sweet. It's not a solution either to release them into the wild because many of them were born into captivity and have never even hunted before. They wouldn't survive in the wild because they would get hunted by other predators. 

I'm glad Marineland has gone bankrupt. Ever since the original owner passed away, everything has gone to sh!t. I don't think it was his vision to have Marineland turn out the way it is today. Corporation greed. 

So far one of the beluga whales (Peekachu) has passed away soon after arriving to Chicago's aquarium. It hasn't even been a month yet of relocation. My heart hurts for each of these belugas. All we can do for them is hope for the best.

10 months later...

It's crazy to think that a year ago, I was not able to stand or walk for more than 2 minutes at a time without my leg burning up. 

A year ago I slept on the floor, upside down, flat on the floor, anything to try and alleviate the back pain that I was experiencing. Nothing worked. Not even Hydromorphone could take away the pain.

10 months post surgery, things have progressed well. I still continue to do my monthly physio sessions, although lately it has progressed to my knee. I think with prolong use of a cane, it actually stressed out my knee more. I'm not using a cane anymore thankfully but now I deal with the after effects. 

I continue to try and work on my core. Honestly, it's hard having my brain tell my body to USE YOUR CORE whenever it comes to picking things up or turning a patient. I never rely on my back to do things as much because I know it could reherniate. But considering last year I couldn't even suck in my core without sending electric shocks down my leg, I'm taking the opportunity from now on to use my core.

I don't experience any sciatic pain anymore thankfully. Although sometimes I do feel a very light sensation, almost like my leg going cold. But I also felt that last year too. I know I have to be careful if I ever need to reposition someone in bed or give them a boost up in bed because sometimes the brain bypasses all that and just goes straight to moving them up in bed, WITHOUT engaging the core. AND you will feel that pull in the back again. Not good.

Made that mistake once, and you won't ever make the same mistake again.

Carrying heavy items? Same thing, I use my leg muscles, squat a bit and then engage the core. I don't bend the back anymore lest I want to reherniate again. 

Gardening? This I'm still learning. I have a tendency to squat down and pick at the weeds. I did that recently and I can feel my back muscles aching for days. I can tell it's the back muscles and not the discs though so at least that I can distinguish. Same with my legs. I can definitely feel them. I should not squat for that long anymore to be honest. 

I used to crack my back all the time to release some tension. Unfortunately I cannot (and should not) crack my back anymore going forward, as I don't want to dislodge my remaining disc. 

Heating pad is still my best friend. It definitely helps to relax the muscles. It's torture during hot summer days though because the heat would keep me awake. 

As time goes on, I have learned to adapt to new ways of saving my back, and protecting it. Although I have been cleared to wear high heels again, I choose not to. I would have to relearn how to walk in them again. 

As for medications? I've reduced it to just one. Baclofen. The doctor wants me to take it 3 times a day as needed. I only limit to once at night if needed, because I cannot function during the daytime with it. It's especially useful after a very labour intense day where all the muscles are super tense. But just like with any medications, you can't rely on it forever. The longer you take it, the more your body gets used to the doses, and then you have to keep increasing the doses. 

Most days are pretty good I would say. There are only far and few bad days since the surgery, and it's probably because I overexert myself on whatever tasks. It's crazy how the human body can take so much but yeah, don't push yourself past the limit. Always listen to your body. 

Less than 2 months and it would be 1 year since surgery. Hang tight for another update.

Can't Trust GTR peeps

This doesn't include friends who own a GTR (you know who you are, it's very few of you). 

This is not my story, but on behalf of another friend who had this experience and is trying to get her money back. 

She was looking to sell her fenders last year. Lo and behold, some of her so called GTR 'friends' (we shall call them Shrimp and H) had a mutual friend who was looking for fenders (we will call him Saeid). Saeid drives a white GTR with all these carbon decorations all over the place already and has a fiancee, and generally well off. 

Shrimp suggested my friend to sell the fenders to this Saeid guy at $1500, and the guy agreed. However, after a certain time, Shrimp then told this guy it was slightly overpriced. Then the guy had the audacity to FORCE my friend to give it to him quick because he really needed it. 

My friend, being the sweet person that she is, was promised that the money would go through so she had it shipped urgently to Saeid. It's been almost a year and she has not seen any of this money.

All her messages to all the guys above have gone unanswered, or avoided. They have screenshotted her messages to each other, and instead of being a man and dealing with it, they're just a bunch of limp d*cks and avoiding the entire situation. 

This girl worked frigging hard for her money. You guys don't understand it. You guys don't understand the struggles that she had to go through to get where she is today. To leave her out hanging dry, that's not what real friends do. That's what fake friends do. 

And then they have the balls to still message her inviting her out to meets or drives. But they still wouldn't acknowledge the money payment from their 'friend'. This is why the GTR community is such a joke. It is full of jesters, idiots and fakers. I would know because I had to deal with one myself. 

She had even reached out to a Battalion30five member if those guys can be posted, because of what they did to her. Battalion's response? Oh, we can't do that.

Of course, Battalion30five is another one I couldn't trust either. I got kicked out of their club for no reason, and I was there just to admire people's rides. So why am I not surprised that they don't stand up for us women? Are we that dramatic? Someone didn't pay so technically they stole the parts.

To the trio who have hurt my friend, you guys will pay.