Dateline: Sunday Evening (I forgot to post in a timely fashion)
For nearly three hours today I was de-bloated. Flat stomach. Flat abdomen. Flat everything. And the strangest thing happening involved movement and noises, unfamiliar sounds pinging back and forth within my abdominal cavity. Gross sensations. Gross elations. Gurgling. Bubbling. Ricocheting randomness from side to side. Yes, out and out craziness.
But now it's 9:00 p.m., Sunday evening. And that sweet ship of comforting dispositions has sailed away, long gone and far away into the desperate night.
Really though, the pain ain't so bad in this moment. Oscillating. Intermittent. Palpitations. Heart skipping. The usual. And really, I'm just grateful for the earlier unusual. Perhaps that'll be a thing someday, once again… normal digestion and digestive processes.
What I need to do is recreate the circumstances leading into my glorious Day of Tummy Flat. What exactly did I do yesterday? What did I do last night? How was it that I slept so soundly? How was it that I woke up feeling somewhat energized, as opposed to feeling physically demolished? That's always the thing, how does one recreate a minor miracle? In most respects, it cannot be done.
And so it goes.
Interviews without a Vampire
So my favorite New Mexican asked me to disclose details involving the interactions I have with the people I meet along the trail to manifest destiny. Well, the bike trail. You know what I mean.
And in the past several days, I've met nobody new. Just a few friendly homeless people have chimed in now and again as I passed to and fro. But for some reason, especially today, I was mostly ignored by unfriendly passers by. And I'm almost wondering why. Perhaps I'm giving off that kind of vibe. Perhaps a vibe of desperation, or maybe, a sort of infiltration initiation. Like, they could sense that I'm going to x-ray them with my mind probe, or something like that.
So no, nothing on that front. And really, there's been a dearth of socialization. No one's having much use for me of late. Although I'm half hoping the New Betsy returns this week. She's a prize. A regular prize. With an irregular emotionally available disposition. So I guess we'll see what happens on that front.
Invaders
Oh, something frustrating happened this evening. I came back to my room and it was ransacked. Well, not ransacked in a ransacked kind of way, but many items were displaced. Keyboards. Ginger. Blanket. Plastic container. So I headed out to the nurses station and protested, complained, asked who the heck was in my room.
The response? Nobody had been in my room. That was what they said. Of course, they were wrong. So I went back to my room and looked for clues. And I found was massively incriminating. A huge clue that could not be ignored. In my trash can!
It was some kind of forearm wrist brace. Big and black. Leather straps. Some velcro. Fancy as heck. Not one of a kind, but not likely too many on hand either.
So it turns out we have a new dementia patient, and she really goes after it. Apparently. So I guess she was in my room for a while, no one saw her, she got bored with turning things upside down, closed my door and left. Losing track of dementia patients for an extended period of time isn't unusual… especially considering we're not a dementia unit.
Seeing as this dementia woman is kind of short in stature, I may have staff members put my valuables up high. My breakables. Things I don't want missing. Because my locker is pretty much full with the top of the line valuables. The computer related stuff. But there's really nothing I can do about any of these roving memory lost people. Maybe they'll watch her better now. Maybe I should stay in my room and guard my things.
Positive Approach
Also, we have 23 positive cases of covid-19 right now. Mostly in the back units, the lockdown units. Half of those are employees. So the parking lot was desolate today. Even for a Sunday. Plenty of parking spaces. Extra room to romp around.
I guess I'll wrap it up at this point. It's 9:20 p.m. and I need to go back into my room and start getting ready for bed. The nurse is newish, so she may not be able to tend to my needs in a timely fashion. That means I'll have to tend to myself.
I'm getting better at that, finding creative ways to squeeze myself into an undersized restroom in order to clean out my formula bag. In order to have success being a normal person someday (perhaps soon) living in the real world, I'll have to have access to a restroom that's wheelchair capable… and that will be quite difficult to attain.
Okay, I tried to find the smallest picture of myself that I could possibly post in this blog entry, yet also conveying the essence of my healthier looking disposition.
Also included are a few other images, pictures I have taken of late.
When I first arrived at the nursing home over a year and a half ago my hair was black, not anymore!
So pending approval, one of these images may be my brand new profile picture. Or maybe not.
Anyway, these are three recent selfies kinds of photos, you know, the kinds of photos people take of themselves to show other people how wonderful they look, right?
WARNING:
I don't know how to make the images smaller (I tried doing screenshots of the original images, but that technique failed) so you have to see my big fat head on your computer screens. Ugh
Never mind, I got clever and figured out how to take a picture of a picture of a picture, so my face won't be plastered all over your laptop screen
Something to give you a sense of what I see with my eyes wide open.
Pedestrian Overpass: unoccupied
Sparse Traffic
Wrong Enter Way Not Due
Arrow Stuck in a Heart Cloud
The Trees that Please Us - been hanging at the park of late
Take care of yourselves,
Howard
For nearly three hours today I was de-bloated. Flat stomach. Flat abdomen. Flat everything. And the strangest thing happening involved movement and noises, unfamiliar sounds pinging back and forth within my abdominal cavity. Gross sensations. Gross elations. Gurgling. Bubbling. Ricocheting randomness from side to side. Yes, out and out craziness.
But now it's 9:00 p.m., Sunday evening. And that sweet ship of comforting dispositions has sailed away, long gone and far away into the desperate night.
Really though, the pain ain't so bad in this moment. Oscillating. Intermittent. Palpitations. Heart skipping. The usual. And really, I'm just grateful for the earlier unusual. Perhaps that'll be a thing someday, once again… normal digestion and digestive processes.
What I need to do is recreate the circumstances leading into my glorious Day of Tummy Flat. What exactly did I do yesterday? What did I do last night? How was it that I slept so soundly? How was it that I woke up feeling somewhat energized, as opposed to feeling physically demolished? That's always the thing, how does one recreate a minor miracle? In most respects, it cannot be done.
And so it goes.
Interviews without a Vampire
So my favorite New Mexican asked me to disclose details involving the interactions I have with the people I meet along the trail to manifest destiny. Well, the bike trail. You know what I mean.
And in the past several days, I've met nobody new. Just a few friendly homeless people have chimed in now and again as I passed to and fro. But for some reason, especially today, I was mostly ignored by unfriendly passers by. And I'm almost wondering why. Perhaps I'm giving off that kind of vibe. Perhaps a vibe of desperation, or maybe, a sort of infiltration initiation. Like, they could sense that I'm going to x-ray them with my mind probe, or something like that.
So no, nothing on that front. And really, there's been a dearth of socialization. No one's having much use for me of late. Although I'm half hoping the New Betsy returns this week. She's a prize. A regular prize. With an irregular emotionally available disposition. So I guess we'll see what happens on that front.
Invaders
Oh, something frustrating happened this evening. I came back to my room and it was ransacked. Well, not ransacked in a ransacked kind of way, but many items were displaced. Keyboards. Ginger. Blanket. Plastic container. So I headed out to the nurses station and protested, complained, asked who the heck was in my room.
The response? Nobody had been in my room. That was what they said. Of course, they were wrong. So I went back to my room and looked for clues. And I found was massively incriminating. A huge clue that could not be ignored. In my trash can!
It was some kind of forearm wrist brace. Big and black. Leather straps. Some velcro. Fancy as heck. Not one of a kind, but not likely too many on hand either.
So it turns out we have a new dementia patient, and she really goes after it. Apparently. So I guess she was in my room for a while, no one saw her, she got bored with turning things upside down, closed my door and left. Losing track of dementia patients for an extended period of time isn't unusual… especially considering we're not a dementia unit.
Seeing as this dementia woman is kind of short in stature, I may have staff members put my valuables up high. My breakables. Things I don't want missing. Because my locker is pretty much full with the top of the line valuables. The computer related stuff. But there's really nothing I can do about any of these roving memory lost people. Maybe they'll watch her better now. Maybe I should stay in my room and guard my things.
Positive Approach
Also, we have 23 positive cases of covid-19 right now. Mostly in the back units, the lockdown units. Half of those are employees. So the parking lot was desolate today. Even for a Sunday. Plenty of parking spaces. Extra room to romp around.
I guess I'll wrap it up at this point. It's 9:20 p.m. and I need to go back into my room and start getting ready for bed. The nurse is newish, so she may not be able to tend to my needs in a timely fashion. That means I'll have to tend to myself.
I'm getting better at that, finding creative ways to squeeze myself into an undersized restroom in order to clean out my formula bag. In order to have success being a normal person someday (perhaps soon) living in the real world, I'll have to have access to a restroom that's wheelchair capable… and that will be quite difficult to attain.
Okay, I tried to find the smallest picture of myself that I could possibly post in this blog entry, yet also conveying the essence of my healthier looking disposition.
Also included are a few other images, pictures I have taken of late.
When I first arrived at the nursing home over a year and a half ago my hair was black, not anymore!
So pending approval, one of these images may be my brand new profile picture. Or maybe not.
Anyway, these are three recent selfies kinds of photos, you know, the kinds of photos people take of themselves to show other people how wonderful they look, right?
WARNING:
I don't know how to make the images smaller (I tried doing screenshots of the original images, but that technique failed) so you have to see my big fat head on your computer screens. Ugh
Never mind, I got clever and figured out how to take a picture of a picture of a picture, so my face won't be plastered all over your laptop screen
Something to give you a sense of what I see with my eyes wide open.
Pedestrian Overpass: unoccupied
Sparse Traffic
Wrong Enter Way Not Due
Arrow Stuck in a Heart Cloud
The Trees that Please Us - been hanging at the park of late
Take care of yourselves,
Howard