No Sleep Till Hammersmith
Because I'm an idiot, the battery on my feeding machine died over an hour ago (4am) and I'm still waiting for someone to respond. The unplugged chord lies dormant upon the floor, and I cannot reach it on my own.
Meanwhile, the sky is ever so slightly illuminated, turning a grayish blue from the east. Despite the faint lighting, there's nothing stirring, neither rabbits nor traffic. Although, the parking lot is partially populated by night crew vehicles.
Beyond my forgetfulness, I would have been awake anyway because a super loud phlebotomist lady drew my roommates blood right after my battery died. And soon thereafter, Dora was moaning and screaming… or yelling and bellowing … likely some combination of the two. And of course, the guy who moved into my old place (Room 125, with a view) was yelling for help, or yelling for Hell.
Why Hell? Because perhaps to him, the fiery depths would be an upgrade compared to this place.
Eh. Restful sleep isn't half way possible in this joint. But at least I can still function on three or four hours.
Down to Earth
My roommate stood up to take a gander at the power strip on his computer desk. He's not supposed to be standing up without hands-on assistance, but he often does what he does. And I was about to remind him to sit down (again) when he just as suddenly took to sitting back down. The problem being, his wheelchair brake wasn't locked, so the chair rolled backwards and away from him, so he reactively grabbed the only thing within reach, which was the refrigerator.
Of course, the half-sized refrigerator rests uncomfortably atop two milk crates (so no, it's not secured). Luckily, as my roommate fell to the ground, his grip slipped. So rather than pulling the refrigerator down upon himself, it teetered back and forth menacingly, before settling back into its milk crate groove.
Sure, the darn thing likely weighs no more than 50 or 60 pounds, but perhaps that's enough to do damage.
So you know, my roommate mostly landed on his rear end (and didn't suffer any notable injuries).
Slum Burrr
Due to a spate of restlessness, my roommate slept out in the TV Room overnight, the one adjacent to the nursing station. Except that he didn't really sleep. He's not slept in days. And his mental acuity is deteriorating rapidly, to the extent that he doesn't know where he is or what he's doing at any given moment.
Meanwhile, his wife is now in the hospital (but remains in constant contact with me). As part of the plan, my roommate doesn't know where she is. And she doesn't know how badly he is faring. It's a delicate balance that I am maintaining (at the behest of the daughter). And it pains me to know that each is suffering in their own way.
His formerly slow deterioration (over several months) has accelerated exponentially. There's no way I can help. Not anymore. He doesn't sleep. Never ever. No REM sleep recovery. The hallucinations are worsening. All part of the disease.
Here's The Thing… (Something Else)
I typically go outside around 8 a.m., after the breakfast trays are picked up (and deposited back in the kitchen area). That's when a CNA comes to get me, and takes me outdoors into the courtyard. But today I waited, and waited, and waited some more. And it wasn't until 10:30 that someone offered to bring me outside.
But by then, I decided it was too late. I'd have to be brought back inside by noon anyway, as the temperature would easily have crossed the 100-degree barrier (97° seems to be my melting point right now).
After deciding to stay in my room, I asked the CNA to close my door on his way out. Privacy is atypical here, but I felt like having some (I had the place to myself, as my roommate was under constant supervision, elsewhere).
The CNA didn't shut my door. So I pushed my alert button, hoping to attract attention from somebody else, anybody who would be able to close my door.
*This is the same CNA who once took my urinal away to empty it out, and never returned. Ever. And it took me three hours to get the urinal back!
Well, after two f_____ hours, no one responded to my call light being activated. At first, I assumed the staff had been summarily murdered. How else is it that nobody would respond? Tragic as that may seem, none of my favorites were on the schedule. So…
Being ignored for two hours is unusual. During a shift changes, it may take an hour for a staff member to respond, but we were nowhere near a designated shift change.
Then, paranoia setting.
Perhaps they were simply trying to get a reaction out of me.
I wondered if I should throw a temper tantrum… that's what others do.
Okay, probably not. Because that's exactly what "they" wanted. Evidence. Excuses. Reasons. Examples. Besides this, how many opportunities would they have to color me bad?
So I waited and wondered how many hours it would take to get my f_____ door shut.
Intervention
They just performed a crisis counseling session with my roommate (with me present). Apparently, violent things happened somewhere out there, earlier this morning. Out of privacy concerns, I'll spare you the details.
After the session, the crisis counselors left the room, which left me to supervise my roommate... which wasn't advisable. Soon thereafter my roommate stood up and started walking around the room. Of course, he's an extreme fall risk, and shouldn't be walking anywhere.
I was able to reason with him the first time, so he did get back in his chair. But then he got up again and started wandering around aimlessly..
I would have pushed the call button, to get someone to come help him, but the call button had already been pushed, three f_____ hours earlier, and as of yet, nobody had responded.
I yelled "help" a few times, but nobody responded to that either, so instead, I called the front desk, who relayed my call to the nurse station. I explained to the nurse what was going on, and then as she was hanging up the phone, she said, "Howard is trying to tell us what to do again."
Of course, that set me off. The only time I call the nurse station is when one of the residents is at risk (ex. someone's been left outside, or they've fallen down). I do not want to tell anybody what to do, much less ask anybody for help, unless absolutely necessary.
Fortunately, one of the nurses caught up with my roommate as he left the room.
And eventually, one of the nurses came into my room (coincidentally) to swab me for covid-19. And in her presence, I let loose a series of f-bombs. No, this particular nurse wasn't my target, but since she'd been the only staff member I'd seen in over three hours, I decided to let loose with her in the room (of course, I apologized an hour later. And she seemed to understand).
With the door closed, I was able to quietly listen to music, and also talk on the phone with a close friend, in private! Yes, privacy is a valued commodity here at the nursing home. And when I have the opportunity to experience private moments, I like to take advantage. And as it turned out, my privacy lasted all of 20 minutes.
Moving Out
I was informed that my roommate would be transferring into another unit. It'll be a place where he can be constantly monitored, while also receiving a better quality of care. I'm glad they're finally doing something, as I (and the limited staffing) can only do so much to keep him on track.
His departure likely means I will be able to sleep through the night, at least, for one night. And what this means for my roommate and his family, I'm not quite sure.
I'll miss seeing his family members, but I suppose they may choose to visit me anyway, at least once in a while.
The whole darn thing is sad as can be. An upsetting downer. Scant few months ago we spent a fair amount of time navigating conversational latitudes, and now…
The Day After
"We've got a new roommate for you!" she offered, smiling uneasily.
It was Social Services interrupting my peaceful mid-morning in the sun. My former roommate had been gone less than 12 hours… As a matter of fact, all of his personal belongings were still in my room.
"It's not gonna be the guy from 125, is it?"
"Yes it is, how did you know?"
How did I know? Well, for reasons unknown, I conjured up the worst possible pairing I could think of… and that's what I get for conjuring.
"No, I don't like this idea at all - '125' is up all night yelling and shouting for help. Everyone down at the other end of the hallway wants to murder him. Literally."
She didn't seem to be listening to me.
"It's okay, we'll see how it works out," the social worker offered, then made a token attempt to touch my shoulder (failing), before heading back indoors.
"F____, F____, F____!" I spat out, making sure she would hear me as she headed off. I mean, what else the hell was I going to do as a means to protest?
In a place like this, you have no choice. Practicing acceptance is key. And really, I should simply be thankful that I even have someplace to live. The government is darned generous, allowing me to be both indoors …and air-conditioned, at the same time.
In protest of this rendered decision, I decided to crank up the music, .. rather loudly, while uneasily reclined in the empty courtyard. What other options did I have? When you live in a place like this, you do not have a legal right to sleep. It would seem as though this is some form of cruelty.
For whatever reason, no one else came outside into the courtyard for the next hour and a half. Hmmm… Perhaps they knew I was angry as fuck. But eventually my heart rate dropped, and my heart palpitations diminished. Why? Because I began concocting a plan, how I'd be able to survive sleeping outdoors into the summer months.
It seems I can tolerate up to 97° for several hours. Anything above that is negatively and notably impactful. Right now, we are typically dropping down into the 80s by 10 p.m., before settling into the 70s through the wee hours, approaching dawn. That's not only quite tolerable, that's absolutely joyous sleeping weather. But one month from now, the temperatures will be hovering around 100 degrees at 10 p.m., finally bottoming out around 90 degrees in the early morning hours. I've got some ramping up to do in order to tolerate that kind of unrelenting heat.
At least mosquitoes aren't an issue yet, as monsoon season doesn't kick in until July. And maybe by then, my new roommate will be dead. Or I'll be cured. Or I'll be dead. And he'll be dead. Lots of possible options.
Inside Job
100° was getting too hot for me, so I went back inside around 3 pm. And shortly thereafter, Nurse Raleigh gave me the good news. Against a departmental order, she moved Difficult Human Being #125 into a room with another difficult human (who also stays awake all night watching TV, and complains loudly and frequently).
I am both grateful and thankful that I'll be getting another full night of sleep.
Insider Info
So you know, I have been writing lots of things, but I've been sleep deprived of late, perhaps even sleep depraved. And the series of words I've been dictating into my phone seem rather unimpressive. Hopefully these words are more or less coherent.
Take care,
Howard
Blazing Sun Set Social Event #2
Because I'm an idiot, the battery on my feeding machine died over an hour ago (4am) and I'm still waiting for someone to respond. The unplugged chord lies dormant upon the floor, and I cannot reach it on my own.
Meanwhile, the sky is ever so slightly illuminated, turning a grayish blue from the east. Despite the faint lighting, there's nothing stirring, neither rabbits nor traffic. Although, the parking lot is partially populated by night crew vehicles.
Beyond my forgetfulness, I would have been awake anyway because a super loud phlebotomist lady drew my roommates blood right after my battery died. And soon thereafter, Dora was moaning and screaming… or yelling and bellowing … likely some combination of the two. And of course, the guy who moved into my old place (Room 125, with a view) was yelling for help, or yelling for Hell.
Why Hell? Because perhaps to him, the fiery depths would be an upgrade compared to this place.
Eh. Restful sleep isn't half way possible in this joint. But at least I can still function on three or four hours.
Down to Earth
My roommate stood up to take a gander at the power strip on his computer desk. He's not supposed to be standing up without hands-on assistance, but he often does what he does. And I was about to remind him to sit down (again) when he just as suddenly took to sitting back down. The problem being, his wheelchair brake wasn't locked, so the chair rolled backwards and away from him, so he reactively grabbed the only thing within reach, which was the refrigerator.
Of course, the half-sized refrigerator rests uncomfortably atop two milk crates (so no, it's not secured). Luckily, as my roommate fell to the ground, his grip slipped. So rather than pulling the refrigerator down upon himself, it teetered back and forth menacingly, before settling back into its milk crate groove.
Sure, the darn thing likely weighs no more than 50 or 60 pounds, but perhaps that's enough to do damage.
So you know, my roommate mostly landed on his rear end (and didn't suffer any notable injuries).
Slum Burrr
Due to a spate of restlessness, my roommate slept out in the TV Room overnight, the one adjacent to the nursing station. Except that he didn't really sleep. He's not slept in days. And his mental acuity is deteriorating rapidly, to the extent that he doesn't know where he is or what he's doing at any given moment.
Meanwhile, his wife is now in the hospital (but remains in constant contact with me). As part of the plan, my roommate doesn't know where she is. And she doesn't know how badly he is faring. It's a delicate balance that I am maintaining (at the behest of the daughter). And it pains me to know that each is suffering in their own way.
His formerly slow deterioration (over several months) has accelerated exponentially. There's no way I can help. Not anymore. He doesn't sleep. Never ever. No REM sleep recovery. The hallucinations are worsening. All part of the disease.
Here's The Thing… (Something Else)
I typically go outside around 8 a.m., after the breakfast trays are picked up (and deposited back in the kitchen area). That's when a CNA comes to get me, and takes me outdoors into the courtyard. But today I waited, and waited, and waited some more. And it wasn't until 10:30 that someone offered to bring me outside.
But by then, I decided it was too late. I'd have to be brought back inside by noon anyway, as the temperature would easily have crossed the 100-degree barrier (97° seems to be my melting point right now).
After deciding to stay in my room, I asked the CNA to close my door on his way out. Privacy is atypical here, but I felt like having some (I had the place to myself, as my roommate was under constant supervision, elsewhere).
The CNA didn't shut my door. So I pushed my alert button, hoping to attract attention from somebody else, anybody who would be able to close my door.
*This is the same CNA who once took my urinal away to empty it out, and never returned. Ever. And it took me three hours to get the urinal back!
Well, after two f_____ hours, no one responded to my call light being activated. At first, I assumed the staff had been summarily murdered. How else is it that nobody would respond? Tragic as that may seem, none of my favorites were on the schedule. So…
Being ignored for two hours is unusual. During a shift changes, it may take an hour for a staff member to respond, but we were nowhere near a designated shift change.
Then, paranoia setting.
Perhaps they were simply trying to get a reaction out of me.
I wondered if I should throw a temper tantrum… that's what others do.
Okay, probably not. Because that's exactly what "they" wanted. Evidence. Excuses. Reasons. Examples. Besides this, how many opportunities would they have to color me bad?
So I waited and wondered how many hours it would take to get my f_____ door shut.
Intervention
They just performed a crisis counseling session with my roommate (with me present). Apparently, violent things happened somewhere out there, earlier this morning. Out of privacy concerns, I'll spare you the details.
After the session, the crisis counselors left the room, which left me to supervise my roommate... which wasn't advisable. Soon thereafter my roommate stood up and started walking around the room. Of course, he's an extreme fall risk, and shouldn't be walking anywhere.
I was able to reason with him the first time, so he did get back in his chair. But then he got up again and started wandering around aimlessly..
I would have pushed the call button, to get someone to come help him, but the call button had already been pushed, three f_____ hours earlier, and as of yet, nobody had responded.
I yelled "help" a few times, but nobody responded to that either, so instead, I called the front desk, who relayed my call to the nurse station. I explained to the nurse what was going on, and then as she was hanging up the phone, she said, "Howard is trying to tell us what to do again."
Of course, that set me off. The only time I call the nurse station is when one of the residents is at risk (ex. someone's been left outside, or they've fallen down). I do not want to tell anybody what to do, much less ask anybody for help, unless absolutely necessary.
Fortunately, one of the nurses caught up with my roommate as he left the room.
And eventually, one of the nurses came into my room (coincidentally) to swab me for covid-19. And in her presence, I let loose a series of f-bombs. No, this particular nurse wasn't my target, but since she'd been the only staff member I'd seen in over three hours, I decided to let loose with her in the room (of course, I apologized an hour later. And she seemed to understand).
With the door closed, I was able to quietly listen to music, and also talk on the phone with a close friend, in private! Yes, privacy is a valued commodity here at the nursing home. And when I have the opportunity to experience private moments, I like to take advantage. And as it turned out, my privacy lasted all of 20 minutes.
Moving Out
I was informed that my roommate would be transferring into another unit. It'll be a place where he can be constantly monitored, while also receiving a better quality of care. I'm glad they're finally doing something, as I (and the limited staffing) can only do so much to keep him on track.
His departure likely means I will be able to sleep through the night, at least, for one night. And what this means for my roommate and his family, I'm not quite sure.
I'll miss seeing his family members, but I suppose they may choose to visit me anyway, at least once in a while.
The whole darn thing is sad as can be. An upsetting downer. Scant few months ago we spent a fair amount of time navigating conversational latitudes, and now…
The Day After
"We've got a new roommate for you!" she offered, smiling uneasily.
It was Social Services interrupting my peaceful mid-morning in the sun. My former roommate had been gone less than 12 hours… As a matter of fact, all of his personal belongings were still in my room.
"It's not gonna be the guy from 125, is it?"
"Yes it is, how did you know?"
How did I know? Well, for reasons unknown, I conjured up the worst possible pairing I could think of… and that's what I get for conjuring.
"No, I don't like this idea at all - '125' is up all night yelling and shouting for help. Everyone down at the other end of the hallway wants to murder him. Literally."
She didn't seem to be listening to me.
"It's okay, we'll see how it works out," the social worker offered, then made a token attempt to touch my shoulder (failing), before heading back indoors.
"F____, F____, F____!" I spat out, making sure she would hear me as she headed off. I mean, what else the hell was I going to do as a means to protest?
In a place like this, you have no choice. Practicing acceptance is key. And really, I should simply be thankful that I even have someplace to live. The government is darned generous, allowing me to be both indoors …and air-conditioned, at the same time.
In protest of this rendered decision, I decided to crank up the music, .. rather loudly, while uneasily reclined in the empty courtyard. What other options did I have? When you live in a place like this, you do not have a legal right to sleep. It would seem as though this is some form of cruelty.
For whatever reason, no one else came outside into the courtyard for the next hour and a half. Hmmm… Perhaps they knew I was angry as fuck. But eventually my heart rate dropped, and my heart palpitations diminished. Why? Because I began concocting a plan, how I'd be able to survive sleeping outdoors into the summer months.
It seems I can tolerate up to 97° for several hours. Anything above that is negatively and notably impactful. Right now, we are typically dropping down into the 80s by 10 p.m., before settling into the 70s through the wee hours, approaching dawn. That's not only quite tolerable, that's absolutely joyous sleeping weather. But one month from now, the temperatures will be hovering around 100 degrees at 10 p.m., finally bottoming out around 90 degrees in the early morning hours. I've got some ramping up to do in order to tolerate that kind of unrelenting heat.
At least mosquitoes aren't an issue yet, as monsoon season doesn't kick in until July. And maybe by then, my new roommate will be dead. Or I'll be cured. Or I'll be dead. And he'll be dead. Lots of possible options.
Inside Job
100° was getting too hot for me, so I went back inside around 3 pm. And shortly thereafter, Nurse Raleigh gave me the good news. Against a departmental order, she moved Difficult Human Being #125 into a room with another difficult human (who also stays awake all night watching TV, and complains loudly and frequently).
I am both grateful and thankful that I'll be getting another full night of sleep.
Insider Info
So you know, I have been writing lots of things, but I've been sleep deprived of late, perhaps even sleep depraved. And the series of words I've been dictating into my phone seem rather unimpressive. Hopefully these words are more or less coherent.
Take care,
Howard
Blazing Sun Set Social Event #2
