Notable, not Quotable (Tuesday)
When I wake up in the morning these days everything is fairly decent, everything's pretty darned good for me. I no longer feel as though I am poisoned, my body really doesn't ache much at all, and I am no longer dreading the repercussions of any and all physical movement.
Sure, I can only do so much, but my recovery times are diminishing across the board. Mind you, progress is slow, very very slow. But I don't care, not at all. Slow but noticeable is better than no improvement at all.
Last night I was able to sit up in bed, unsupported, for nearly 60 seconds. And I did not seem to suffer any consequences afterwards. Balance is somewhat difficult, but I'm willing to take on that challenge.
Again, this may not seem like much, but it truly is. I am grateful and thankful and all sorts of things.
Defeat Heat
Summer is creeping up and creeping in, which will likely be a problem. 85 degrees today, near 90 tomorrow, and then gradually cooling as the days move forward. So this will be a test. A precursor to my outdoors post-mortem.
A former rehab resident just sent me a small black umbrella, something I can use to fend off the sunlight. I also plan on attaining a spray bottle, something to put water in and bring outside with me each day. Of course, my outdoor time will gradually become more and more limited. Not immediately, but within a month or two.
Today, Betsy saved me from myself. She came to check on me just after noon, after I'd been in the direct sunlight for the past three hours. She asked how I was doing, and I told her I was okay. It's my natural inclination to tell people that everything is fine. I'm used to doing that. No one wants to hear about me not doing well. If you continually tell people you're not doing well, they'll stop asking you how you're doing. And they'll also stop communicating with you altogether, eventually. Nobody wants to associate with a complainer.
So I am making mental preparations, in hopes that I'll be ready once the heat comes on.
Linda said she would tend to me daily, helping me meet my segmented sunshine needs (assuming the overburdened CNAs aren't able to do so). The reason why I'll need a dedicated person, is that I won't be able to tolerate the 100-degree heat for more than ten minutes or so, nor the intensity of the sunshine burning my skin. So she promised she would bring me out into the courtyard, and then bring me back inside within the requested time frame.
Although, I'm not sure where I'll spend my time once I get back inside. Pickings are slim.
There's the cafeteria area, high ceilings and as spaciously large as a small middle school basketball gymnasium. And then there's a little nook that overlooks the courtyard. And then possibly, there's the front entryway area.
My friend and fellow resident Jillian is more concerned about these things than I am. In any case, she's generally more concerned about everything. But that's something we talk about daily, and she's learning how to let go. The summer is so far away though. Who knows what will happen by then.
Beyond her, Linda and I are still having very involved conversations, almost daily. During the past couple of sessions, she's led the way.. taken the reins. Which pleases me. For a while there, I was too hyped up. Too inspired. Too something. Using too many words way too often.
Balance.
The Middle Road.
Although with me, excess is imminent.
Betsy and I have these pleasingly calm interactions going on all the time now. She's rather introverted, so I do my best to let the conversations flow in a natural way… forcing nothing. Additionally, I'm quite pleased when she goes off in random directions, tangents, and occasional tapestries smoothly woven. I like that she's able to be this way. Comfortable. At ease. And even silly.
Everyone else here, at the facility, comes and goes without any semblance of predictability. A total randomness. Gracing my presence one day, then off on assignment the following three. And I wonder how that works. What makes people desire incessant frequency versus occasional proximity? I mean, I could answer that question, but it's better for me to let these matters play out in a most natural way within this most unnatural habitat. No analyzing. No forcing the issue. Let everything flow unopposed.
Awake Anyway
It's 4:15 a.m. and there's a VERY LOUD conversation taking place out there, in the hallway or thereabouts, between the CNA and a resident… and they are discussing f**** mattresses!
Nope. Obviously this shouting loud conversation can't wait. Apparently, the very best time to talk about mattresses is somewhere between three and five in the morning.
And listening in, what exactly have I learned? Well, I've learned that there are soft mattresses and hard mattresses. I've also learned that there are loud and inconsiderate people galore.
*my personal mattress employees a crater like sinkhole smack dab in the middle.. and this gravity well pulls me down and sucks me in… requiring additional physical effort to extricate myself -
Eh. I've been up since 1:30 a.m. anyway, due to tube feeding failures and complications. I've now resumed feeding (after self-medicating and performing other sorts of related tasks) and hopefully now the damned thing will work and I can go back to sleep. Of course, I will need to combat the tremendous TV volume accosting my ear holes.
And now, suddenly … it's quiet. That must mean everybody is dead. Except for me. No, I'm not dead, I'm just recycling, not succumbing. Huge difference. Perhaps a positive outcome, or a positive end result is in the works.
Take care,
Howard
When I wake up in the morning these days everything is fairly decent, everything's pretty darned good for me. I no longer feel as though I am poisoned, my body really doesn't ache much at all, and I am no longer dreading the repercussions of any and all physical movement.
Sure, I can only do so much, but my recovery times are diminishing across the board. Mind you, progress is slow, very very slow. But I don't care, not at all. Slow but noticeable is better than no improvement at all.
Last night I was able to sit up in bed, unsupported, for nearly 60 seconds. And I did not seem to suffer any consequences afterwards. Balance is somewhat difficult, but I'm willing to take on that challenge.
Again, this may not seem like much, but it truly is. I am grateful and thankful and all sorts of things.
Defeat Heat
Summer is creeping up and creeping in, which will likely be a problem. 85 degrees today, near 90 tomorrow, and then gradually cooling as the days move forward. So this will be a test. A precursor to my outdoors post-mortem.
A former rehab resident just sent me a small black umbrella, something I can use to fend off the sunlight. I also plan on attaining a spray bottle, something to put water in and bring outside with me each day. Of course, my outdoor time will gradually become more and more limited. Not immediately, but within a month or two.
Today, Betsy saved me from myself. She came to check on me just after noon, after I'd been in the direct sunlight for the past three hours. She asked how I was doing, and I told her I was okay. It's my natural inclination to tell people that everything is fine. I'm used to doing that. No one wants to hear about me not doing well. If you continually tell people you're not doing well, they'll stop asking you how you're doing. And they'll also stop communicating with you altogether, eventually. Nobody wants to associate with a complainer.
So I am making mental preparations, in hopes that I'll be ready once the heat comes on.
Linda said she would tend to me daily, helping me meet my segmented sunshine needs (assuming the overburdened CNAs aren't able to do so). The reason why I'll need a dedicated person, is that I won't be able to tolerate the 100-degree heat for more than ten minutes or so, nor the intensity of the sunshine burning my skin. So she promised she would bring me out into the courtyard, and then bring me back inside within the requested time frame.
Although, I'm not sure where I'll spend my time once I get back inside. Pickings are slim.
There's the cafeteria area, high ceilings and as spaciously large as a small middle school basketball gymnasium. And then there's a little nook that overlooks the courtyard. And then possibly, there's the front entryway area.
My friend and fellow resident Jillian is more concerned about these things than I am. In any case, she's generally more concerned about everything. But that's something we talk about daily, and she's learning how to let go. The summer is so far away though. Who knows what will happen by then.
Beyond her, Linda and I are still having very involved conversations, almost daily. During the past couple of sessions, she's led the way.. taken the reins. Which pleases me. For a while there, I was too hyped up. Too inspired. Too something. Using too many words way too often.
Balance.
The Middle Road.
Although with me, excess is imminent.
Betsy and I have these pleasingly calm interactions going on all the time now. She's rather introverted, so I do my best to let the conversations flow in a natural way… forcing nothing. Additionally, I'm quite pleased when she goes off in random directions, tangents, and occasional tapestries smoothly woven. I like that she's able to be this way. Comfortable. At ease. And even silly.
Everyone else here, at the facility, comes and goes without any semblance of predictability. A total randomness. Gracing my presence one day, then off on assignment the following three. And I wonder how that works. What makes people desire incessant frequency versus occasional proximity? I mean, I could answer that question, but it's better for me to let these matters play out in a most natural way within this most unnatural habitat. No analyzing. No forcing the issue. Let everything flow unopposed.
Awake Anyway
It's 4:15 a.m. and there's a VERY LOUD conversation taking place out there, in the hallway or thereabouts, between the CNA and a resident… and they are discussing f**** mattresses!
Nope. Obviously this shouting loud conversation can't wait. Apparently, the very best time to talk about mattresses is somewhere between three and five in the morning.
And listening in, what exactly have I learned? Well, I've learned that there are soft mattresses and hard mattresses. I've also learned that there are loud and inconsiderate people galore.
*my personal mattress employees a crater like sinkhole smack dab in the middle.. and this gravity well pulls me down and sucks me in… requiring additional physical effort to extricate myself -
Eh. I've been up since 1:30 a.m. anyway, due to tube feeding failures and complications. I've now resumed feeding (after self-medicating and performing other sorts of related tasks) and hopefully now the damned thing will work and I can go back to sleep. Of course, I will need to combat the tremendous TV volume accosting my ear holes.
And now, suddenly … it's quiet. That must mean everybody is dead. Except for me. No, I'm not dead, I'm just recycling, not succumbing. Huge difference. Perhaps a positive outcome, or a positive end result is in the works.
Take care,
Howard
