October 13th, 2931
Nope, that's not right.
October 18th, 2021
Topical
Due to recent self generated turmoil, I am not sure how to approach this blogging effort. I've yet to parse out parameters. Erect boundaries. Or forge an outline. I mean, what can I safely discuss that's not embarrassingly honest?
Relationships
Ha! Well, I'm no idiot. I get it now. Bad idea. I can save those intimate discussions for my roommate, Jeff! You see, Jeff and I have an understanding now. Yes, we really do. He understands that I can help him, and recognizes that I've now helped him time and time again, advocating on his behalf. Go figure!
Has he quieted down?
Well, yes. A bit. Instead of an overwhelming 130 decibels generated, lasting twelve hours consecutively, he's pumping out a far less irritating 110 decibels. Plus, he now features intermittent napping, at no extra cost!
They upped his drugs.
It seems secretly sobbing within earshot of a male roommate is a near impossibility. How do I know this? A couple of days ago (while speaking in weird uncomfortable tones) he offered me relationship advice. His words were clearly heartfelt.
"Blank blank blank blank blank and blank…"
And then there was something about not worrying about it, 'cuz everything gonna workout. So I stopped worrying about it. Really, he absolutely tried, and I thanked him kindly.
I Cheated
Yes, I cheated on you guys. Yesterday, my brother-in-law texted, asking me if I wanted access to something called FuboTV. I responded that I didn't. So he asked me why. And I texted the following: The noise be bad loud very bad here already!
He's from Tennessee, so he easily picks up on my slang-worthy intentions.
And then from him -
"I just ordered you earplugs. Where should I send them?"
Ugh. I fell for the trap. He tricked me. And now, less than 24-hours later I have earplugs underneath earmuffs. Now I am mostly suddenly calm. I can barely hear my neighbor across the way, their televisions, nor the guy who cries "help me" every 20 minutes or so, without fail. But still, them barnyard animals from Jeff's video game persist. Muffled now, at least. So mostly what I hear are my own ears ringing, which I am quite used to while embedded in quiet.
She Sing, She Do
Then there's this. My just turned 100-years-old neighbor consistently bellows out full-throttled monotone vocalizations long into the night. Imagine Janis Joplin's voice spewing forth, with no real words. No real form. Just ceaseless bursts of enthusiastic garbled low-end crackling noise.
And this time she's been at it for the past 97-minutes, with nary a break. Crazy decibel levels, too. I hope she's not in pain, or overly distressed. I hope that's not the reason why she sounds the way she sounds, or the reason why she's doing it.
There's no real possibility of sleeping through this, but otherwise, I appreciate how powerfully she rumbles and grumbles.
A Psychiatric Holiday
A stranger entered the room. A woman casually handling a large McDonald's Orange Drink.
Memories awakened. I liked her already.
When I was 14, my mother used to stop off at McDonald's on the way home from work (on a near daily basis). Her objective? ...Pick up seven hamburgers (only onions), a large fry, and an Orange Drink for her son to devour. Back then, I required easy calories faithfully served. Now, it's simply ears listening. Or an occasional nod from a pleasant passerby.
So, the stranger sat close to me (which I appreciated), and we talked for an hour and a half. Then eventually, the lead psychiatrist came in. It turns out, he's the proverbial master of ceremonies. I'm not much on ceremony, but any master of anything intrigues me.
"You need to talk to THIS guy!" The Orange Drink-drinking Psychiatrist #2 insisted, while pointing at me.
Then I realized.. Gee willikers! I was THIS guy. And he was THAT guy. Then I wondered aloud, "Where the heck is Marlo Thomas? We need an officially designated THAT girl!"
As it turns out, each of them was perplexed, if not fascinated by my case. And they each seemed far more medically inclined than any regular, run of the mill physician I've encountered in the past half-decade. Somehow, they asked the right questions. Not all of them, mind you, but the one's I would ask myself, having had their educational background.
Most importantly, they suggested a nurse should do a blood draw soon-after having completed the dreaded Commode Event (which is something I've been trying to orchestrate for several months now) in order to make additional determinations.
They suggested many other options and introduced reasonable theories, many of which have appeared within posts throughout this forum. So that's that. And they'll be back for further in-depth discussion as time passes.
Dirty Windows
I saw outside a bird in flight come crashing, come crashing it did with authority and verve…
Hmmm… what do you think of that?
Double Lockdown
A few nights back, one of our own tested positive for Covid-19. They wouldn't tell us which staff member it was, besides mentioning that she'd been in our room overnight.. which left My Favorite Nurse, and/ the Indistinguishable CNA as the only possibilities.
The Nurse was in here for 30-minutes, helping with my formula replacement and a bandage change. Yikes!
The CNA? She took my pulse, then headed out the door. Twice.
After many swabs deep into our nasal passages throughout the live-long day, we came to know our truth last night. It was the CNA! ...with the lead pipe, in the vomitorium!!! Good news for us, not so good for her.
So, the whole time I've been here, we've been out of lockdown for only 12-hours. And this doesn't matter for me, except that Jeff cannot leave the room (as he did, ever so briefly, the day prior). And those 27-minutes alone were nice for me. Only a week left on this lockdown.
Hoist Me Up
Today's debacle? They once again tried to weigh me, utilizing the Hoyer Lift. And I repeatedly repeated why doing so was an impossibility. Muscle activation total suffering post-lift PEM head too heavy to hold up on my own pressure muscles strained stretched burn------.
Twenty minutes later, they came back, acting as though we'd never met, nor even discussed anything having to do with weighing me on the darned Hoyer Lift.
So this time, my frustrated-for-me roommate told them to f*** off, imploring them to leave me alone.
And they did. Finally. For several hours.
Of course, my urinal is now overflowing, yet my cup runneth dry.
Punish Me, from Above
I made her cry. My nurse ------ blank blank blank
Hmmm. This is tough. I cannot bypass all emotional content here, not entirely. Half of everything that goes on here is born out of emotion. Yes, it appears as though I require an editor! A Content Approval Editor.
Someone close to me used to do just that. Edit me. Keep me safe. Protected in that way. But she's unavailable for the foreseeable future.
I'll try again with the story, but I may seem to be a total assh******* here:
I made her cry. My nurse.
My response and actions pushed her over the edge.
Jeff had been mercilessly ripping on her a bit earlier, cruel mean words on top of crudely aimed missives. I offered the nurse several smiles and a series of thumbs ups (thumb ups?) as she came and went about the place.
Not too much later, my nurse came back into the room with a box of feeding formula. I'd run out. I'd been running on pure tap water for a bit. So what happens next, will make you angry as a hornet caught up in a beehive hairdo!
Well, the order came in all wrong (as I suspected it might) and instead of my Kate Farm's feeding formula, they ordered a pediatric Nestle product.. You know, Nestle.. the candied corporation that specializes in making milk chocolate products. With milk, milk proteins, casein, recycled cow utters, shredded pieces of cowbell.. The Works!
*I don't do dairy
In a moment of frustration, I dropped a couple of f-bombs. And was about to throw the offending formula bottle through my bullet hole riddled wall, when my nurse began crying. Out loud.
F***! I wasn't really going to throw it through the wall. I swear.
I quietly apologized and motioned for her to come towards me. She shook her head and pointed, indicating that my roommate was to blame, not me. I took hold of her hand and apologized some more. Dammit. I'm supposed to be the good guy.
My frustration was all about everything here being so often wrong. My not being able to attain proper nourishment…
That outburst occurred three days ago, and ever since then the nurse has been opening up to me about her worldly frustrations. Which is good. And for her, completely, obviously, necessary.
There's a price to be paid for reacting and not thinking. Or writing and upsetting.
It's now 4:44am and my legs are partially numb, unmovable muscles slow burn, hips badly ache. What is this? Happens every so often. Probably common.
Take care,
Howard
This is what it looked like when my roommate left the room, in between lockdowns... room dividing curtain pulled back!!!:
Nope, that's not right.
October 18th, 2021
Topical
Due to recent self generated turmoil, I am not sure how to approach this blogging effort. I've yet to parse out parameters. Erect boundaries. Or forge an outline. I mean, what can I safely discuss that's not embarrassingly honest?
Relationships
Ha! Well, I'm no idiot. I get it now. Bad idea. I can save those intimate discussions for my roommate, Jeff! You see, Jeff and I have an understanding now. Yes, we really do. He understands that I can help him, and recognizes that I've now helped him time and time again, advocating on his behalf. Go figure!
Has he quieted down?
Well, yes. A bit. Instead of an overwhelming 130 decibels generated, lasting twelve hours consecutively, he's pumping out a far less irritating 110 decibels. Plus, he now features intermittent napping, at no extra cost!
They upped his drugs.
It seems secretly sobbing within earshot of a male roommate is a near impossibility. How do I know this? A couple of days ago (while speaking in weird uncomfortable tones) he offered me relationship advice. His words were clearly heartfelt.
"Blank blank blank blank blank and blank…"
And then there was something about not worrying about it, 'cuz everything gonna workout. So I stopped worrying about it. Really, he absolutely tried, and I thanked him kindly.
I Cheated
Yes, I cheated on you guys. Yesterday, my brother-in-law texted, asking me if I wanted access to something called FuboTV. I responded that I didn't. So he asked me why. And I texted the following: The noise be bad loud very bad here already!
He's from Tennessee, so he easily picks up on my slang-worthy intentions.
And then from him -
"I just ordered you earplugs. Where should I send them?"
Ugh. I fell for the trap. He tricked me. And now, less than 24-hours later I have earplugs underneath earmuffs. Now I am mostly suddenly calm. I can barely hear my neighbor across the way, their televisions, nor the guy who cries "help me" every 20 minutes or so, without fail. But still, them barnyard animals from Jeff's video game persist. Muffled now, at least. So mostly what I hear are my own ears ringing, which I am quite used to while embedded in quiet.
She Sing, She Do
Then there's this. My just turned 100-years-old neighbor consistently bellows out full-throttled monotone vocalizations long into the night. Imagine Janis Joplin's voice spewing forth, with no real words. No real form. Just ceaseless bursts of enthusiastic garbled low-end crackling noise.
And this time she's been at it for the past 97-minutes, with nary a break. Crazy decibel levels, too. I hope she's not in pain, or overly distressed. I hope that's not the reason why she sounds the way she sounds, or the reason why she's doing it.
There's no real possibility of sleeping through this, but otherwise, I appreciate how powerfully she rumbles and grumbles.
A Psychiatric Holiday
A stranger entered the room. A woman casually handling a large McDonald's Orange Drink.
Memories awakened. I liked her already.
When I was 14, my mother used to stop off at McDonald's on the way home from work (on a near daily basis). Her objective? ...Pick up seven hamburgers (only onions), a large fry, and an Orange Drink for her son to devour. Back then, I required easy calories faithfully served. Now, it's simply ears listening. Or an occasional nod from a pleasant passerby.
So, the stranger sat close to me (which I appreciated), and we talked for an hour and a half. Then eventually, the lead psychiatrist came in. It turns out, he's the proverbial master of ceremonies. I'm not much on ceremony, but any master of anything intrigues me.
"You need to talk to THIS guy!" The Orange Drink-drinking Psychiatrist #2 insisted, while pointing at me.
Then I realized.. Gee willikers! I was THIS guy. And he was THAT guy. Then I wondered aloud, "Where the heck is Marlo Thomas? We need an officially designated THAT girl!"
As it turns out, each of them was perplexed, if not fascinated by my case. And they each seemed far more medically inclined than any regular, run of the mill physician I've encountered in the past half-decade. Somehow, they asked the right questions. Not all of them, mind you, but the one's I would ask myself, having had their educational background.
Most importantly, they suggested a nurse should do a blood draw soon-after having completed the dreaded Commode Event (which is something I've been trying to orchestrate for several months now) in order to make additional determinations.
They suggested many other options and introduced reasonable theories, many of which have appeared within posts throughout this forum. So that's that. And they'll be back for further in-depth discussion as time passes.
Dirty Windows
I saw outside a bird in flight come crashing, come crashing it did with authority and verve…
Hmmm… what do you think of that?
Double Lockdown
A few nights back, one of our own tested positive for Covid-19. They wouldn't tell us which staff member it was, besides mentioning that she'd been in our room overnight.. which left My Favorite Nurse, and/ the Indistinguishable CNA as the only possibilities.
The Nurse was in here for 30-minutes, helping with my formula replacement and a bandage change. Yikes!
The CNA? She took my pulse, then headed out the door. Twice.
After many swabs deep into our nasal passages throughout the live-long day, we came to know our truth last night. It was the CNA! ...with the lead pipe, in the vomitorium!!! Good news for us, not so good for her.
So, the whole time I've been here, we've been out of lockdown for only 12-hours. And this doesn't matter for me, except that Jeff cannot leave the room (as he did, ever so briefly, the day prior). And those 27-minutes alone were nice for me. Only a week left on this lockdown.
Hoist Me Up
Today's debacle? They once again tried to weigh me, utilizing the Hoyer Lift. And I repeatedly repeated why doing so was an impossibility. Muscle activation total suffering post-lift PEM head too heavy to hold up on my own pressure muscles strained stretched burn------.
Twenty minutes later, they came back, acting as though we'd never met, nor even discussed anything having to do with weighing me on the darned Hoyer Lift.
So this time, my frustrated-for-me roommate told them to f*** off, imploring them to leave me alone.
And they did. Finally. For several hours.
Of course, my urinal is now overflowing, yet my cup runneth dry.
Punish Me, from Above
I made her cry. My nurse ------ blank blank blank
Hmmm. This is tough. I cannot bypass all emotional content here, not entirely. Half of everything that goes on here is born out of emotion. Yes, it appears as though I require an editor! A Content Approval Editor.
Someone close to me used to do just that. Edit me. Keep me safe. Protected in that way. But she's unavailable for the foreseeable future.
I'll try again with the story, but I may seem to be a total assh******* here:
I made her cry. My nurse.
My response and actions pushed her over the edge.
Jeff had been mercilessly ripping on her a bit earlier, cruel mean words on top of crudely aimed missives. I offered the nurse several smiles and a series of thumbs ups (thumb ups?) as she came and went about the place.
Not too much later, my nurse came back into the room with a box of feeding formula. I'd run out. I'd been running on pure tap water for a bit. So what happens next, will make you angry as a hornet caught up in a beehive hairdo!
Well, the order came in all wrong (as I suspected it might) and instead of my Kate Farm's feeding formula, they ordered a pediatric Nestle product.. You know, Nestle.. the candied corporation that specializes in making milk chocolate products. With milk, milk proteins, casein, recycled cow utters, shredded pieces of cowbell.. The Works!
*I don't do dairy
In a moment of frustration, I dropped a couple of f-bombs. And was about to throw the offending formula bottle through my bullet hole riddled wall, when my nurse began crying. Out loud.
F***! I wasn't really going to throw it through the wall. I swear.
I quietly apologized and motioned for her to come towards me. She shook her head and pointed, indicating that my roommate was to blame, not me. I took hold of her hand and apologized some more. Dammit. I'm supposed to be the good guy.
My frustration was all about everything here being so often wrong. My not being able to attain proper nourishment…
That outburst occurred three days ago, and ever since then the nurse has been opening up to me about her worldly frustrations. Which is good. And for her, completely, obviously, necessary.
There's a price to be paid for reacting and not thinking. Or writing and upsetting.
It's now 4:44am and my legs are partially numb, unmovable muscles slow burn, hips badly ache. What is this? Happens every so often. Probably common.
Take care,
Howard
This is what it looked like when my roommate left the room, in between lockdowns... room dividing curtain pulled back!!!:
