Warning: This is an extra-long super expanded edition - many words were used in the making of this blog entry!
Warning #2: Howard does not go to ER as a result of anything that happens in this episode!
Today Might Be Wednesday
By the time Olga wheeled me outside this morning my grey hooded jacket was no longer required. Yep, it was already an easy 61° heading up and into a savagely warm 80° (fine… unseasonable.. not particularly savage!). None of the locals wants that kind of warmth in February. At least they shouldn't. Summer is rather long, drawn-out, and barely tolerable here in the desert.
Olga's a newer CNA here at this facility. And she's a quick study. Very focused. Seemingly dedicated. But this was the first time she brought me out into the courtyard realm on her own. And it turns out, she forgot to .. Well, let me explain. As you likely know by now, I am all about needlessly explaining.
So not long after she retreated back indoors, I shifted my body ever so slightly. And that's a normal thing. I shift, I stretch, extend my limbs outward, contract… Yes, I generally move all about without complications. But this time, my Geri Cart started rolling down hill. Mind you, it's not a steep gradient, but with even the slightest amount of momentum, I could possibly travel an easy dozen meters towards the center of the courtyard where difficult obstacles lay in wait.
Not wanting to deal with any of that, I reached all the way back and behind me in an attempt to engage the left rear wheel brake (as I slow-rolled along). But the wheel was facing the wrong direction, leaving the locking mechanism inaccessible. And it was the same thing for the right rear wheel. Wrong direction. No access.
It then occurred to me that my feeding pole, the one attached to my formula feed, and attached directly to my body, was beginning to separate.. in a real sense, pulling away from me. Yes, the distance was increasing and starting to tug. So I took hold of the pole, while simultaneously reaching down to the ground, my finger tips making contact with the cement directly…
Why the desperation? Well, bad things would happen if my tubing pulled out of my insides.
Anyway, my roll stopped entirely. My fingertips held that position, anchored into the cement, my body awkwardly twisted.
Eventually, a perplexed CNA named Kyle happened along. And he fixed things. Straightened me out. Locked me in.
I know I know I know, not all that exciting! But it's something that happened. And my quick thinking and fast reactions saved me from a whole lot of... Nothing. Most likely.
On a Guided Tour
Betsy and Blanche came outside to retrieve me early this afternoon, in fact, earlier than usual. I was having a difficult time staying awake / functioning properly. And it was obvious to all. My efforts to synchronize my lips in manners of speaking was turning ugly, turning into indecipherable mumblings. And that was unfortunate, because Jillian had come outdoors to speak with me (for our usual 40-minutes-long afternoon conversation). So nope, we didn't make it all the way through.
Note: I just cut out all the details, three paragraphs worth, explaining why it was that I was so tired. Basically, my sleep was interrupted on three separate occasions by two different CNAs overnight…
Anyways, Betsy and Blanche came to get me, came to bring me back to my room for a much needed nap. It's not necessary that both of them do so, but why the heck not? I'd had a very slow day socially, one brief visit from Linda early on, and then the aborted time spent chatting with Jillian.
And by the way, Jillian brought me my applesauce! And wouldn't you know, she's the official applesauce purchaser for each and every Howard in the facility! She's also really really really motivated, wanting me to eat real foods again, and again. In response, I ordered Hu (Get Back to Human) grain-free cookies. Snickerdoodle flavored. Paleo. Keto. So… no gluten, no dairy, no potato, no honey, no cane sugar either -
UPDATE: Besides giving me mild heartburn, the cookies are being well-tolerated at this point. Soooo… if you personally experience unfortunate reactions when eating food, these Hu people have products that may prove viable - MY RATING? Several thumbs up, and one thumb sideways!
Roommate Search (and nearly seizure-inducing)
It's been decided there are too many (difficult) residents located in my former locale. Yes, we're talkin' about the residents permanently residing up and down the length of my former hallway, also known as Wing #2. That's where I used to reside. Room 205. Very loud. Multiple TVs blaring at any given time. People moaning and groaning with regularity. Audibly suffering within earshot. Misery. Anger. Unmitigated Doom. Well, you get the idea, right?
Or perhaps more succinctly, that place over there is most akin to an Unregulated Deathfest.
Anyway, they're trying to even out the score. You see, it's rather peaceful here in my village. It doesn't get worse than having one, or maybe two televisions blaring at once. And then there's the "Nurse" crying guy across the way, that's what he shouts off and on throughout the day. "Nurse, nurse, nurse…" - mostly, it's that he wants more ketchup.
And then there's the "Help" woman next door. She used to be a religious matriarch in standing, but now she merely suggests that each of the CNA's is going to burn in hell… which would seem to be an unfortunate outcome, considering how much and how often they help her. At least "Help" woman is persistent, yet inconsistent with her demands… which makes for interesting outcomes.
So the thing is.. I am currently in need of a roommate. But really I'm not. Each of you knows this, right? So they are trying to place one of the more difficult residents over there (I am pointing) in the bed next to mine… because... there is an open unoccupied bed next to me.
And it was a rather close call today. You won't believe who they had pegged to be my new roommate (verified by three separate sources). You just won't believe it. Nope. You'll never guess. Never ever ever. It will never even occur to you to think this.
J - e - f - f
Yep
NO FLIPPING WAY!!!
Fortunately, a few people spoke up on my behalf. They represented, or even perhaps, stood up for me… explaining that I was moved out and away from this particular individual because… Reasons and Difficulties.
So that dreaded match-up was scrapped. At least, that's what I've heard. But there's no way to be certain. The only certainty is that sooner rather than later, I'm going to have an old person laying in the bed next to me watching television 24/7 at exceedingly loud volumes through the end of time.
The wait continues.
I shouldn't project, but ….
Note: guess what? I did project. And I just cut those paragraphs out of the equation. See how this works? I'm sparing you the details. Why, because you already know what would end up happening. And here on Howard's Nursing Home Blog, we are positively attuned.
ID - Who Am I?
The other issue I am now having is that the doctor's offices are insisting that I provide a formal means to identify myself. Nope, I do not have a driver's license, social security card, or anything else that indicates who I actually am. Either the Former Person misplaced these materials back at my former residence, they got lost in the ambulance on the way here, or someone stole my wallet upon arrival. Either way, I am nobody. I do not exist.
So I'm now working hand in hand with the Department of Motor Vehicles, hoping to resolve this issue. Well, maybe I'm not working with anybody, but I am currently on their web page, and it doesn't appear as though there's an easy resolution.
Part of the problem is that I don't recall my previous driver's license number, nor do I know which address appears on the license itself. Before I got hitched, I moved around a fair bit. Here and there. I mean… I can guess, right? Sure, I can do that! But how many wrong answers do they willingly accept before they kicking me off of the internet?
Let's see… I lived on Thunderbird (at the base of Lookout Mountain) for a while, then over on North 44th Street (off and on for a few years - directly across from Sonic), and then in my friend's garage for a while (I don't know if that counts)... But either way, I think we're talking about the 2007 timeframe here. Was I in apartment 116 or 216 back then? I actually lived in both. Not at the same time, of course. That would be insane. And moderately inefficient.
Eh, it'll come to me eventually.
Social Sessions
So you may be wondering what's happening on that front. Or perhaps, you may not be. Well, my dedicated Medical Advocate has been out of commission lately. She has her own thing going on. Health issues. And there's nothing really I can do on that end, to help. Words. Encouragement. Offering support in that way. But that's about it. Feeling helpless is rather disagreeable.
Linda and I get into it deeply (as we always seem to do) most days. But the thing is, she's always asking me these questions, either about me specifically, or questions having to do with my take on matters. Am I getting tired of hearing my own voice talk? Yes. Indeed I am.
However, she pushes me in directions that tend to reveal simple truths which I hadn't realized previously. It's like... the conversation starts in one place and then it goes all over the place, and then we end up back where we started, yet somehow, our discussion resolves a certain something that wasn't even recognized as needing a resolution in the first place!
Still, I need to find a way to balance this out, as it seems we are into more of a 66/33 mix (me versus her). So probably I am getting carried away. I could probably address this balance issue the next time we speak.
And speaking of speaking, I still frequently associate and connect with my faraway (for the past three years) friend. Mostly it's text messaging. But that arrangement seems to work out just swell. It's typically an everyday thing. And it's an every way thing. Plus, humor. Not many people can make me laugh often, nor amuse me, yet she is able to do both.
I've also got my friend locally, and we stay in touch weekly, probably more often than that. Again, it's through text messaging. He's aiming to visit me again once the Covid restrictions are lifted here at the nursing home. Anyway, we've been friends for over 30 years, off and on, breaks in between, but we always resume where we left off.
Then there's the new kid in town! And no, it's not Joe Walsh! You remember him don't you, when he joined the Eagles?
Her name is Mary (another alias), and she's the All-new Entertainer Person here. A Singer. And she may play the electric oboe. Or was it saxophone?
Anyway, she gave me two obsidian arrowheads the other day... because she felt I needed them. Cool as they are, I have no place to really put them, no safe place to display them. She insists that I carry one with me all the time, which I am willing to do, but I don't have a safe way or a safe place to do that either.
Does anyone have any suggestions?
Hmmm… I should probably post a picture, for better suggesting!m
Betsy and Blanche? Yes, we socialize a whole lot, too. Many interactions. Words exchanged. Opinions offered. Stabs at humor. Slabs of goodness. Making a mockery of things. You know, the usual.
UPDATE: A staff member just gave me her tablet. It's a Samsung tablet. And what this means, possibly, is that I may be able to resume making music. Of course, I refused her gift offering several times initially. I mean, who gives someone a tablet?
So, if this works out, if I am able to download a free music studio app from Google Play, you may be hearing my dissonant brand of ugly music again sometime soon!
And someday soon (when I recover), instead of needing everybody to help me all the time, I'll be able to return the favor. Or at least, contribute to the cause.
Take care,
Howard
Warning #2: Howard does not go to ER as a result of anything that happens in this episode!
Today Might Be Wednesday
By the time Olga wheeled me outside this morning my grey hooded jacket was no longer required. Yep, it was already an easy 61° heading up and into a savagely warm 80° (fine… unseasonable.. not particularly savage!). None of the locals wants that kind of warmth in February. At least they shouldn't. Summer is rather long, drawn-out, and barely tolerable here in the desert.
Olga's a newer CNA here at this facility. And she's a quick study. Very focused. Seemingly dedicated. But this was the first time she brought me out into the courtyard realm on her own. And it turns out, she forgot to .. Well, let me explain. As you likely know by now, I am all about needlessly explaining.
So not long after she retreated back indoors, I shifted my body ever so slightly. And that's a normal thing. I shift, I stretch, extend my limbs outward, contract… Yes, I generally move all about without complications. But this time, my Geri Cart started rolling down hill. Mind you, it's not a steep gradient, but with even the slightest amount of momentum, I could possibly travel an easy dozen meters towards the center of the courtyard where difficult obstacles lay in wait.
Not wanting to deal with any of that, I reached all the way back and behind me in an attempt to engage the left rear wheel brake (as I slow-rolled along). But the wheel was facing the wrong direction, leaving the locking mechanism inaccessible. And it was the same thing for the right rear wheel. Wrong direction. No access.
It then occurred to me that my feeding pole, the one attached to my formula feed, and attached directly to my body, was beginning to separate.. in a real sense, pulling away from me. Yes, the distance was increasing and starting to tug. So I took hold of the pole, while simultaneously reaching down to the ground, my finger tips making contact with the cement directly…
Why the desperation? Well, bad things would happen if my tubing pulled out of my insides.
Anyway, my roll stopped entirely. My fingertips held that position, anchored into the cement, my body awkwardly twisted.
Eventually, a perplexed CNA named Kyle happened along. And he fixed things. Straightened me out. Locked me in.
I know I know I know, not all that exciting! But it's something that happened. And my quick thinking and fast reactions saved me from a whole lot of... Nothing. Most likely.
On a Guided Tour
Betsy and Blanche came outside to retrieve me early this afternoon, in fact, earlier than usual. I was having a difficult time staying awake / functioning properly. And it was obvious to all. My efforts to synchronize my lips in manners of speaking was turning ugly, turning into indecipherable mumblings. And that was unfortunate, because Jillian had come outdoors to speak with me (for our usual 40-minutes-long afternoon conversation). So nope, we didn't make it all the way through.
Note: I just cut out all the details, three paragraphs worth, explaining why it was that I was so tired. Basically, my sleep was interrupted on three separate occasions by two different CNAs overnight…
Anyways, Betsy and Blanche came to get me, came to bring me back to my room for a much needed nap. It's not necessary that both of them do so, but why the heck not? I'd had a very slow day socially, one brief visit from Linda early on, and then the aborted time spent chatting with Jillian.
And by the way, Jillian brought me my applesauce! And wouldn't you know, she's the official applesauce purchaser for each and every Howard in the facility! She's also really really really motivated, wanting me to eat real foods again, and again. In response, I ordered Hu (Get Back to Human) grain-free cookies. Snickerdoodle flavored. Paleo. Keto. So… no gluten, no dairy, no potato, no honey, no cane sugar either -
UPDATE: Besides giving me mild heartburn, the cookies are being well-tolerated at this point. Soooo… if you personally experience unfortunate reactions when eating food, these Hu people have products that may prove viable - MY RATING? Several thumbs up, and one thumb sideways!
Roommate Search (and nearly seizure-inducing)
It's been decided there are too many (difficult) residents located in my former locale. Yes, we're talkin' about the residents permanently residing up and down the length of my former hallway, also known as Wing #2. That's where I used to reside. Room 205. Very loud. Multiple TVs blaring at any given time. People moaning and groaning with regularity. Audibly suffering within earshot. Misery. Anger. Unmitigated Doom. Well, you get the idea, right?
Or perhaps more succinctly, that place over there is most akin to an Unregulated Deathfest.
Anyway, they're trying to even out the score. You see, it's rather peaceful here in my village. It doesn't get worse than having one, or maybe two televisions blaring at once. And then there's the "Nurse" crying guy across the way, that's what he shouts off and on throughout the day. "Nurse, nurse, nurse…" - mostly, it's that he wants more ketchup.
And then there's the "Help" woman next door. She used to be a religious matriarch in standing, but now she merely suggests that each of the CNA's is going to burn in hell… which would seem to be an unfortunate outcome, considering how much and how often they help her. At least "Help" woman is persistent, yet inconsistent with her demands… which makes for interesting outcomes.
So the thing is.. I am currently in need of a roommate. But really I'm not. Each of you knows this, right? So they are trying to place one of the more difficult residents over there (I am pointing) in the bed next to mine… because... there is an open unoccupied bed next to me.
And it was a rather close call today. You won't believe who they had pegged to be my new roommate (verified by three separate sources). You just won't believe it. Nope. You'll never guess. Never ever ever. It will never even occur to you to think this.
J - e - f - f
Yep
NO FLIPPING WAY!!!
Fortunately, a few people spoke up on my behalf. They represented, or even perhaps, stood up for me… explaining that I was moved out and away from this particular individual because… Reasons and Difficulties.
So that dreaded match-up was scrapped. At least, that's what I've heard. But there's no way to be certain. The only certainty is that sooner rather than later, I'm going to have an old person laying in the bed next to me watching television 24/7 at exceedingly loud volumes through the end of time.
The wait continues.
I shouldn't project, but ….
Note: guess what? I did project. And I just cut those paragraphs out of the equation. See how this works? I'm sparing you the details. Why, because you already know what would end up happening. And here on Howard's Nursing Home Blog, we are positively attuned.
ID - Who Am I?
The other issue I am now having is that the doctor's offices are insisting that I provide a formal means to identify myself. Nope, I do not have a driver's license, social security card, or anything else that indicates who I actually am. Either the Former Person misplaced these materials back at my former residence, they got lost in the ambulance on the way here, or someone stole my wallet upon arrival. Either way, I am nobody. I do not exist.
So I'm now working hand in hand with the Department of Motor Vehicles, hoping to resolve this issue. Well, maybe I'm not working with anybody, but I am currently on their web page, and it doesn't appear as though there's an easy resolution.
Part of the problem is that I don't recall my previous driver's license number, nor do I know which address appears on the license itself. Before I got hitched, I moved around a fair bit. Here and there. I mean… I can guess, right? Sure, I can do that! But how many wrong answers do they willingly accept before they kicking me off of the internet?
Let's see… I lived on Thunderbird (at the base of Lookout Mountain) for a while, then over on North 44th Street (off and on for a few years - directly across from Sonic), and then in my friend's garage for a while (I don't know if that counts)... But either way, I think we're talking about the 2007 timeframe here. Was I in apartment 116 or 216 back then? I actually lived in both. Not at the same time, of course. That would be insane. And moderately inefficient.
Eh, it'll come to me eventually.
Social Sessions
So you may be wondering what's happening on that front. Or perhaps, you may not be. Well, my dedicated Medical Advocate has been out of commission lately. She has her own thing going on. Health issues. And there's nothing really I can do on that end, to help. Words. Encouragement. Offering support in that way. But that's about it. Feeling helpless is rather disagreeable.
Linda and I get into it deeply (as we always seem to do) most days. But the thing is, she's always asking me these questions, either about me specifically, or questions having to do with my take on matters. Am I getting tired of hearing my own voice talk? Yes. Indeed I am.
However, she pushes me in directions that tend to reveal simple truths which I hadn't realized previously. It's like... the conversation starts in one place and then it goes all over the place, and then we end up back where we started, yet somehow, our discussion resolves a certain something that wasn't even recognized as needing a resolution in the first place!
Still, I need to find a way to balance this out, as it seems we are into more of a 66/33 mix (me versus her). So probably I am getting carried away. I could probably address this balance issue the next time we speak.
And speaking of speaking, I still frequently associate and connect with my faraway (for the past three years) friend. Mostly it's text messaging. But that arrangement seems to work out just swell. It's typically an everyday thing. And it's an every way thing. Plus, humor. Not many people can make me laugh often, nor amuse me, yet she is able to do both.
I've also got my friend locally, and we stay in touch weekly, probably more often than that. Again, it's through text messaging. He's aiming to visit me again once the Covid restrictions are lifted here at the nursing home. Anyway, we've been friends for over 30 years, off and on, breaks in between, but we always resume where we left off.
Then there's the new kid in town! And no, it's not Joe Walsh! You remember him don't you, when he joined the Eagles?
Her name is Mary (another alias), and she's the All-new Entertainer Person here. A Singer. And she may play the electric oboe. Or was it saxophone?
Anyway, she gave me two obsidian arrowheads the other day... because she felt I needed them. Cool as they are, I have no place to really put them, no safe place to display them. She insists that I carry one with me all the time, which I am willing to do, but I don't have a safe way or a safe place to do that either.
Does anyone have any suggestions?
Hmmm… I should probably post a picture, for better suggesting!m
Betsy and Blanche? Yes, we socialize a whole lot, too. Many interactions. Words exchanged. Opinions offered. Stabs at humor. Slabs of goodness. Making a mockery of things. You know, the usual.
UPDATE: A staff member just gave me her tablet. It's a Samsung tablet. And what this means, possibly, is that I may be able to resume making music. Of course, I refused her gift offering several times initially. I mean, who gives someone a tablet?
So, if this works out, if I am able to download a free music studio app from Google Play, you may be hearing my dissonant brand of ugly music again sometime soon!
And someday soon (when I recover), instead of needing everybody to help me all the time, I'll be able to return the favor. Or at least, contribute to the cause.
Take care,
Howard
