October 21st, 2021 - 1133pm
Nurses Unmasked
Perhaps I am making slight progress socializing the nurses. I have two regulars regularly coming in here, casually removing their masks as they relate.. making sure I am seeing them, making sure that I am catching a glimpse (before putting their masks back on).. which makes sense. They can see me (probably way too much of me, at that!).
Or they arrive for their duty shift, hair down, before putting it up in a bun, or some kind of ponytail configuration while in front of me in my room. And each is physically touching me more often, as well, adding appropriate emphasis to their words spoken. It's appreciated. I like when people touch my toes. Wiggle wiggle. Makes me bodily aware. More present.
So, perhaps they are reading my blog? It's as though something clicked in the past couple of days with each. The conversations aren't particularly involved. Superficial stuff. Small talking. Matters of facts. A 30-second synopsis. Then gone they go.
Physical Therapist Dos
She interacted with me, too… in the afternoon, when I was seriously down in the dumps. Good timing. It was instructional talk, but it was also me getting out of my head.
Oh. And at long last, I may shower soon.
A Depressed State (Arizona)
Wow. There I was, fairly high on life (deep slow breathing, muscles making very nice), then a sudden sinking crazy super low seventy billion leagues under the sea sensation takes command. Rebound slightly, into some music making. "Nursing Drone Home" is the working title. Then without warning, my brain trips me up. Stumble. Stumble. Crushingly sad.
This is NOT normal for me.
Is what I think I am experiencing real?
Can someone bound about like this, extreme to extreme? It doesn't seem possible.
Much Later
Sleep undertaken, 'round about midnight
But 45-minutes later… I am awake. The nurse is in the room. All the lights are on. She and Jeff are discussing the Rocky Horror Picture Show, while she is emptying some pouch of his. Then Jeff asks for more chocolate milk. She says something about white milk.
Earlier in the day Jeff admitted that he loves being waited on, adding.... "Waitresses. Really, that's what they are, waitresses here to serve us."
I tell him that I hate asking for help.. hate imposing.
Because I am tired, and it's now past one o'clock in the morning, I pull both of my sheets up, covering my head.. which is already covered by the bandana over my eyes (earplugs and earmuffs already affixed). But that's not nearly enough.
Oops, my bare ass is showing, but f*** them and everybody else. I am absolutely sick of this crap.
217am - Barnyard Game. Lights still on, full spread. Moo goes the cow. Cock-a-doodle-do goes the chicken.
Then, I must have dozed off - YAY!
415 - The 100-year-old lady be shoutin' out loud 'bout nothin'
426 - The Help Guy is having a mel-mel-mel-meltdown. Yes. He stammers. Poor fella
Is there a full moon?
433am - Glory be, the nurse happens to come in. Why not?
WARNING: course language, anger, and other nonsense
"How the f**** are you?" I ask. And, liking the sound of that, I raise my voice several more notches, until I am f****** nearly shouting about this and that… complaining that I cannot sleep because the lights AREN'T f***** on anymore (Jeff takes the hint, turns the lights back on… asks what all of the f***** yelling is about). Then I ask her for some f****** heroin to shoot up, or some morphine… so I can overdose, go to heaven.
*I only tried heroin once, when I was 18. Snorted it. This pusher acquaintance named "Egg" was wanting to get me hooked. But I was mostly living in my car at the time, and had more important things on my agenda.
My nurse asks if I want to talk to the psychiatrist, and I tell her I don't. I tell her I want to smash everything in this f****** room instead. Which is okay, because I am paying for it anyway… or the state is. Hell, someone is going to pay, I tell her.
"Where's Clem Fandango? Yes, Clem… I can hear you, Clem Fandango!"
The nurse continues saying things, but I'm not listening, and neither is she. I mention Mogadishu. Hans Christian Andersen. Chernobyl. Bhopal, India. The plot to overthrow the cut-off man. The time Katie Palmer dumped me on graduation night, back in 8th grade.
Another staff member comes into the room. He asks what's going on. So I explain to him what's going on, then I ask him for hard drugs. Or hard candy. A self-addressed stamped envelope. And an ice cold chicken sandwich. No mayonnaise.
He's visibly perplexed.
Across the way, the Help Guy loudly asks for help again. Says something about falling in or out of bed. He's moaning and groaning.
Then there's Jeff. He is snoring again. Fast asleep. Lights on. But sure, he's heavily medicated.
Meanwhile, I want to do bad things, but I am stuck in bed. I am always stuck in bed. I'd rather be Stuck Mojo. The band. Yes. That was the name of the band. My best friend Eric and I saw them perform in Mesa, Arizona back in '97.
Eric died nine years ago. Drove off of an overpass. Died instantly. I was too sick with this undiagnosed illness to attend the funeral.
7:47am
I slept for another hour. That makes three (point six-six). Feeling a lot better. Halfway relaxed.
H
P.S. 8:13am - Doctors came on first thing… said they had to talk to me about my UA/ultrasound results. Nice. Ugh.
They said I have an infection (kidney and/or bladder) and a possible blockage (had ultrasound Monday). Require CT scan, seven days IV fluids, and heavy antibiotics (which freaks me out). They said they would try to treat me here, versus the hospital.
If the antibiotics don't kill me, perhaps I'll feel better (overall) after this.
*Morning Dream - I was in some sort of group home, and I had slightly greater mobility. And there was this nurse, bright eyed, alive, quietly engaged.. and she came to lay next to me on the living room floor (while the other residents were watching television). I got a good sense from her, so I asked if I could hold her hand.. and she allowed me to intertwine my fingers with hers, bringing my hand towards her heart.
It was very nice. Calming. Reassuring. I no longer felt alone.
Note: I am not normally like this, so please don't spread the word/get the wrong idea. Hand-holding is for fifth graders!
P.S. #2 - 9:44am - HOLY CRAP!!!!
After further review, the UA and other related test results were for my roommate. NOT me! They mixed us up, again. He requires the IV and all the rest of that jazz. And my weird kidney/bladder symptoms seemed to have resolved on their own. Yes. My hypervigilant immune system rides again.
Oh, and perhaps as part of a trade-off (having nearly botched the UA's), they are going to write a referral for a neurologist (at Barrow.. insurance allowing), so that I may get a muscle biopsy at long last!
New Invented Word for the Day -
Hypervigilante
Nurses Unmasked
Perhaps I am making slight progress socializing the nurses. I have two regulars regularly coming in here, casually removing their masks as they relate.. making sure I am seeing them, making sure that I am catching a glimpse (before putting their masks back on).. which makes sense. They can see me (probably way too much of me, at that!).
Or they arrive for their duty shift, hair down, before putting it up in a bun, or some kind of ponytail configuration while in front of me in my room. And each is physically touching me more often, as well, adding appropriate emphasis to their words spoken. It's appreciated. I like when people touch my toes. Wiggle wiggle. Makes me bodily aware. More present.
So, perhaps they are reading my blog? It's as though something clicked in the past couple of days with each. The conversations aren't particularly involved. Superficial stuff. Small talking. Matters of facts. A 30-second synopsis. Then gone they go.
Physical Therapist Dos
She interacted with me, too… in the afternoon, when I was seriously down in the dumps. Good timing. It was instructional talk, but it was also me getting out of my head.
Oh. And at long last, I may shower soon.
A Depressed State (Arizona)
Wow. There I was, fairly high on life (deep slow breathing, muscles making very nice), then a sudden sinking crazy super low seventy billion leagues under the sea sensation takes command. Rebound slightly, into some music making. "Nursing Drone Home" is the working title. Then without warning, my brain trips me up. Stumble. Stumble. Crushingly sad.
This is NOT normal for me.
Is what I think I am experiencing real?
Can someone bound about like this, extreme to extreme? It doesn't seem possible.
Much Later
Sleep undertaken, 'round about midnight
But 45-minutes later… I am awake. The nurse is in the room. All the lights are on. She and Jeff are discussing the Rocky Horror Picture Show, while she is emptying some pouch of his. Then Jeff asks for more chocolate milk. She says something about white milk.
Earlier in the day Jeff admitted that he loves being waited on, adding.... "Waitresses. Really, that's what they are, waitresses here to serve us."
I tell him that I hate asking for help.. hate imposing.
Because I am tired, and it's now past one o'clock in the morning, I pull both of my sheets up, covering my head.. which is already covered by the bandana over my eyes (earplugs and earmuffs already affixed). But that's not nearly enough.
Oops, my bare ass is showing, but f*** them and everybody else. I am absolutely sick of this crap.
217am - Barnyard Game. Lights still on, full spread. Moo goes the cow. Cock-a-doodle-do goes the chicken.
Then, I must have dozed off - YAY!
415 - The 100-year-old lady be shoutin' out loud 'bout nothin'
426 - The Help Guy is having a mel-mel-mel-meltdown. Yes. He stammers. Poor fella
Is there a full moon?
433am - Glory be, the nurse happens to come in. Why not?
WARNING: course language, anger, and other nonsense
"How the f**** are you?" I ask. And, liking the sound of that, I raise my voice several more notches, until I am f****** nearly shouting about this and that… complaining that I cannot sleep because the lights AREN'T f***** on anymore (Jeff takes the hint, turns the lights back on… asks what all of the f***** yelling is about). Then I ask her for some f****** heroin to shoot up, or some morphine… so I can overdose, go to heaven.
*I only tried heroin once, when I was 18. Snorted it. This pusher acquaintance named "Egg" was wanting to get me hooked. But I was mostly living in my car at the time, and had more important things on my agenda.
My nurse asks if I want to talk to the psychiatrist, and I tell her I don't. I tell her I want to smash everything in this f****** room instead. Which is okay, because I am paying for it anyway… or the state is. Hell, someone is going to pay, I tell her.
"Where's Clem Fandango? Yes, Clem… I can hear you, Clem Fandango!"
The nurse continues saying things, but I'm not listening, and neither is she. I mention Mogadishu. Hans Christian Andersen. Chernobyl. Bhopal, India. The plot to overthrow the cut-off man. The time Katie Palmer dumped me on graduation night, back in 8th grade.
Another staff member comes into the room. He asks what's going on. So I explain to him what's going on, then I ask him for hard drugs. Or hard candy. A self-addressed stamped envelope. And an ice cold chicken sandwich. No mayonnaise.
He's visibly perplexed.
Across the way, the Help Guy loudly asks for help again. Says something about falling in or out of bed. He's moaning and groaning.
Then there's Jeff. He is snoring again. Fast asleep. Lights on. But sure, he's heavily medicated.
Meanwhile, I want to do bad things, but I am stuck in bed. I am always stuck in bed. I'd rather be Stuck Mojo. The band. Yes. That was the name of the band. My best friend Eric and I saw them perform in Mesa, Arizona back in '97.
Eric died nine years ago. Drove off of an overpass. Died instantly. I was too sick with this undiagnosed illness to attend the funeral.
7:47am
I slept for another hour. That makes three (point six-six). Feeling a lot better. Halfway relaxed.
H
P.S. 8:13am - Doctors came on first thing… said they had to talk to me about my UA/ultrasound results. Nice. Ugh.
They said I have an infection (kidney and/or bladder) and a possible blockage (had ultrasound Monday). Require CT scan, seven days IV fluids, and heavy antibiotics (which freaks me out). They said they would try to treat me here, versus the hospital.
If the antibiotics don't kill me, perhaps I'll feel better (overall) after this.
*Morning Dream - I was in some sort of group home, and I had slightly greater mobility. And there was this nurse, bright eyed, alive, quietly engaged.. and she came to lay next to me on the living room floor (while the other residents were watching television). I got a good sense from her, so I asked if I could hold her hand.. and she allowed me to intertwine my fingers with hers, bringing my hand towards her heart.
It was very nice. Calming. Reassuring. I no longer felt alone.
Note: I am not normally like this, so please don't spread the word/get the wrong idea. Hand-holding is for fifth graders!
P.S. #2 - 9:44am - HOLY CRAP!!!!
After further review, the UA and other related test results were for my roommate. NOT me! They mixed us up, again. He requires the IV and all the rest of that jazz. And my weird kidney/bladder symptoms seemed to have resolved on their own. Yes. My hypervigilant immune system rides again.
Oh, and perhaps as part of a trade-off (having nearly botched the UA's), they are going to write a referral for a neurologist (at Barrow.. insurance allowing), so that I may get a muscle biopsy at long last!
New Invented Word for the Day -
Hypervigilante
