Hostility Towards the Opposition
I think it's Monday evening. Whatever evening Valentine's Day falls upon. Right now I am considering my options. Tonight's CNA is angry. Clearly she is. How do I know this? After having pushed the help button, she came barreling into my room soon thereafter with a head of steam and a facial expression filled with disdain. The first and only word out of her mouth was "What?"
So I explained to her that I needed some tap water for my formula bag. I even said "please" several times, hoping it would diffuse her anger.
It did not.
Beyond that, she came into my room without a mask… and that's the first time that's ever happened since I've been here (4.5 months). Luckily, I'm not at risk right now. But I suspect the other residents will be (and have been) taking their chances this evening.
Of course, my main reasoning for pushing the "help" button was that I needed help. I need help with materials and warm water so that I can clean my stoma nightly. And I haven't been able to do so since Friday night because… I end up too damn tired waiting for the graveyard shift nurse to make her way down to my room. Last night? Well, she didn't show up at all! I dozed off immediately after flushing my tube, and without a bandage on... while listening to Cephalic Carnage. Or was it Nightmarer?
Either way, I awoke at 1:07 a.m. not having received a visit from the on-duty nurse. So yes, I went "without'' again. Not that I'm particularly worried about getting an infection of any sort. My immune system is hyper-vigilant! Or as I often proclaim, hyper-vigilantly!!
So for no reason whatsoever, I asked this angry CNA if she could notify the nurse that I need assistance changing out my formula bag, as well as other kinds of help.
"I'll tell her…" the CNA responded. But also, I sensed a subtle whiff of "it ain't going to do any good."
Note: In case things fall through this evening, which it looks as though they might, I have an alternate solution.
So that's what I'm up against this evening. Luckily and fortunately, my day was a good one, and probably much better than that!
Note: Okay, I just found out that the Angry CNA has been the only CNA working the entire floor for the past two hours. So, I'll graciously excuse her abruptness, her lack of tact, and her masklessnes, because...
We are all imperfect. Me especially!
The next shift is in, and this CNA is running solo as well. But at least the overnight hours are typically less chaotic, especially after meds are handed out.
V.D.
So yeah, today is Valentine's Day, but I'm not religious. What this means is that I don't believe in the Valentine's Dude (is he a real person?).
Well, maybe that's not it. If I remember correctly (which oftentimes I do not), Valentine's Day has something to do with a bloody massacre that took place somewhere overseas. Probably Ireland. Maybe Denmark. Or was it in Kazakhstan?
Anyway, I didn't expect much, if any, Valentine's Day acknowledgement. I mean really, it's a girl thing. However, I did receive a few text messages early on, insisting that I do indeed enjoy Valentine's Day to the fullest extent allowable by law. So based upon this unofficial go ahead, this freeing attitude, I figured, what the hell? ...and decided to do what I can. Do what I could? Arghhh! English! Well.. you know what I mean, don't you?
Fast forward several hours -
I am outside chilling in my Geri Cart, located in my usual spot.. the northeast quadrant of the courtyard, adjacent to the broken automatic handicapped door.
By the way, am I handicapped? What's the official designation for somebody who can't get up and out of bed or move around or do much of anything? Since I have no known diagnosis, technically, there's nothing really wrong with me.
Anyways - right as I'm comfortably settling in, Staff Member Linda comes pushing through the door at the far opposite end of the courtyard. And she immediately addresses Sharia… which makes lots of sense, because she's the only other person in the courtyard besides me. But despite the obviousness of it all, I sense there's something more sinister afoot. Perhaps even ...a conspiracy in the making!
You see, Linda brought with her an unmodified pushcart, the kind that wibble-wobbles all over the place, is clickety-noisy as heck, and is made out of a solid-state plastic compound that's likely toxic to all living things. But more importantly than all that, the cart was loaded with what appeared to be snacks and candies and bottles of hand sanitizer.
Because I am within earshot, I hear Linda offer Soraya a piece of chocolate. And then she offers to give her a shoulder massage. So I'm thinking, perhaps this is a Valentine's Day thing. Something to brighten the spirits of the womenfolk… which is important, because it's a well-known fact that womenfolk have more spirits than menfolk.
So Linda is going at it, massaging Cerrillos shoulders, while I disappear back into my music. Kinobe. Electric Wizard. Godflesh. The Scissor Girls. The usual assortment. Or should I say, the unusual assortment?
Then suddenly in the midst of all this intense music listening, Linda appears before me. And before I can refuse her candy coated services, or the free hand sanitizing option, she speaks authoritatively.
"Your skin is still dry. And you haven't been using the lotion that your faraway friend sent you, so I am going to lotion-you-up... whether you like it or not!"
It seemed as though I didn't have a choice. "Well okay then, let's do this!" I thought to myself...
But before doing so, she did give me a choice, the option of choosing a scented lotion versus one that smelled like absolutely nothing at all. I chose scented. Why? Because I enjoy scents and sensations simultaneously!
She then proceeded to slather all kinds of lotion on me, from my fingers up to my shoulder blades. Part of me wanted to stop her. Despite my recent physical improvements my muscles are still pressure sensitive now and again. But I figured, what the heck.. mainly because I was feeling so darned good having someone touch me. Dedicated attention. Indeed. And before I knew it, Linda was also taking care of my legs, all the way down to my toes.
As typically happens, I figured that within 15 minutes I would be crashing hard. Very hard. But the crash seemed to be slow in coming. As mentioned previously, I am improving. Noticeably. Notably.
Then she finished.
Or did she?
"Let's wash your hair!" She offered with unrivaled enthusiasm.
This was something we discussed previously, something she suggested doing. But I never once considered taking action. Use the garden hose to wash my hair in the middle of the nursing home courtyard? I thought we were joking around.
So, I began to protest, not because I wasn't open to experience, but she'd already done enough. Way more than enough. But her hands-on attention humanized me, to the extent that I couldn't resist. It had been nearly two years since I'd been paid attention to in such a way. That was back when I had my initial original awesome fantastic caregiver. You remember her, don't you?
So Linda released the parking brake and wheeled me forward into the warming sunlight. I held my head over the edge of the cart. And then … icy ice cold water drenched my head. Talk about feeling alive, Yowzaaa!
Then, in measured intervals, she poured pink shampoo over my head, proceeded to massage my scalp, and then concluded with a thorough rinsing with that very same ice cold water. But by then, the temperature of the water didn't seem to matter as much. My hair was clean as could be.
And then, you would think we were done, right? Nope. Not done. She asked me if I wanted my hair combed. Per her astute observing, she somehow determined that no one had combed my hair in quite a long time. So I let her comb me. And it took quite a while with my tiny black plastic $0.69 comb. So while she undid my baby dreads, we chatted about this and that… same as we always do. Except, I was becoming very relaxed. Extremely relaxed, nearly working my way into a meditative state. Head to toe, my muscles were totally completely at ease. No fight or flight. No on-edge agitation. No nothing.
And then she was finished.
I spent the next four hours merely existing, simply being, feeling really okay about things. And I cannot recall the last time I was so relaxed, much less, for an extended period of time. And it may not seem like much at all to any of you, but what she did was very impactful.
After me, she had an additional 113 residents to tend to. Or in the least, some exorbitant number well beyond my ability to comprehend. Luckily, most of the other folk have access to regular showering. I suspect, but can I confirm, clean hair is the rule here. Either way, I am the exception.
Later that afternoon Dan came strolling outside half an hour early (for the designated smoke break). And it's not unusual for us to discuss things, for a few moments at a time, silent intervals between. But today… Wow! He was a regular chatterbox. And it didn't take me long to figure out why. He mentioned having lotion put on his arms, seeming rather enthusiastic in regards to the overall experience.
So for the next 30 minutes we went back and forth like an endless volley at a tennis match ...on steroids. Or meth. Maybe both? Dan was in a different place altogether, to the extent that he dominated the conversation… a welcomed change of pace.
So for at least one person other than myself, Linda's unsung efforts were noticeably beneficial. Although I guess, by me writing this, her efforts are now being sung.
In any case, I'm sure her fingers (and related muscles) will be sore as heck tomorrow, and possibly for the days following. Lotioning-up all those people (not to mention the countless shoulder massages) would likely take a lot out of a person.
Cheers to Linda.
I've got a "Part 2" all lined up, but I don't want to inundate you with too many blasted words.. as is my tendency. For now, 1,787 words should suffice.
Take care,
Howard
I think it's Monday evening. Whatever evening Valentine's Day falls upon. Right now I am considering my options. Tonight's CNA is angry. Clearly she is. How do I know this? After having pushed the help button, she came barreling into my room soon thereafter with a head of steam and a facial expression filled with disdain. The first and only word out of her mouth was "What?"
So I explained to her that I needed some tap water for my formula bag. I even said "please" several times, hoping it would diffuse her anger.
It did not.
Beyond that, she came into my room without a mask… and that's the first time that's ever happened since I've been here (4.5 months). Luckily, I'm not at risk right now. But I suspect the other residents will be (and have been) taking their chances this evening.
Of course, my main reasoning for pushing the "help" button was that I needed help. I need help with materials and warm water so that I can clean my stoma nightly. And I haven't been able to do so since Friday night because… I end up too damn tired waiting for the graveyard shift nurse to make her way down to my room. Last night? Well, she didn't show up at all! I dozed off immediately after flushing my tube, and without a bandage on... while listening to Cephalic Carnage. Or was it Nightmarer?
Either way, I awoke at 1:07 a.m. not having received a visit from the on-duty nurse. So yes, I went "without'' again. Not that I'm particularly worried about getting an infection of any sort. My immune system is hyper-vigilant! Or as I often proclaim, hyper-vigilantly!!
So for no reason whatsoever, I asked this angry CNA if she could notify the nurse that I need assistance changing out my formula bag, as well as other kinds of help.
"I'll tell her…" the CNA responded. But also, I sensed a subtle whiff of "it ain't going to do any good."
Note: In case things fall through this evening, which it looks as though they might, I have an alternate solution.
So that's what I'm up against this evening. Luckily and fortunately, my day was a good one, and probably much better than that!
Note: Okay, I just found out that the Angry CNA has been the only CNA working the entire floor for the past two hours. So, I'll graciously excuse her abruptness, her lack of tact, and her masklessnes, because...
We are all imperfect. Me especially!
The next shift is in, and this CNA is running solo as well. But at least the overnight hours are typically less chaotic, especially after meds are handed out.
V.D.
So yeah, today is Valentine's Day, but I'm not religious. What this means is that I don't believe in the Valentine's Dude (is he a real person?).
Well, maybe that's not it. If I remember correctly (which oftentimes I do not), Valentine's Day has something to do with a bloody massacre that took place somewhere overseas. Probably Ireland. Maybe Denmark. Or was it in Kazakhstan?
Anyway, I didn't expect much, if any, Valentine's Day acknowledgement. I mean really, it's a girl thing. However, I did receive a few text messages early on, insisting that I do indeed enjoy Valentine's Day to the fullest extent allowable by law. So based upon this unofficial go ahead, this freeing attitude, I figured, what the hell? ...and decided to do what I can. Do what I could? Arghhh! English! Well.. you know what I mean, don't you?
Fast forward several hours -
I am outside chilling in my Geri Cart, located in my usual spot.. the northeast quadrant of the courtyard, adjacent to the broken automatic handicapped door.
By the way, am I handicapped? What's the official designation for somebody who can't get up and out of bed or move around or do much of anything? Since I have no known diagnosis, technically, there's nothing really wrong with me.
Anyways - right as I'm comfortably settling in, Staff Member Linda comes pushing through the door at the far opposite end of the courtyard. And she immediately addresses Sharia… which makes lots of sense, because she's the only other person in the courtyard besides me. But despite the obviousness of it all, I sense there's something more sinister afoot. Perhaps even ...a conspiracy in the making!
You see, Linda brought with her an unmodified pushcart, the kind that wibble-wobbles all over the place, is clickety-noisy as heck, and is made out of a solid-state plastic compound that's likely toxic to all living things. But more importantly than all that, the cart was loaded with what appeared to be snacks and candies and bottles of hand sanitizer.
Because I am within earshot, I hear Linda offer Soraya a piece of chocolate. And then she offers to give her a shoulder massage. So I'm thinking, perhaps this is a Valentine's Day thing. Something to brighten the spirits of the womenfolk… which is important, because it's a well-known fact that womenfolk have more spirits than menfolk.
So Linda is going at it, massaging Cerrillos shoulders, while I disappear back into my music. Kinobe. Electric Wizard. Godflesh. The Scissor Girls. The usual assortment. Or should I say, the unusual assortment?
Then suddenly in the midst of all this intense music listening, Linda appears before me. And before I can refuse her candy coated services, or the free hand sanitizing option, she speaks authoritatively.
"Your skin is still dry. And you haven't been using the lotion that your faraway friend sent you, so I am going to lotion-you-up... whether you like it or not!"
It seemed as though I didn't have a choice. "Well okay then, let's do this!" I thought to myself...
But before doing so, she did give me a choice, the option of choosing a scented lotion versus one that smelled like absolutely nothing at all. I chose scented. Why? Because I enjoy scents and sensations simultaneously!
She then proceeded to slather all kinds of lotion on me, from my fingers up to my shoulder blades. Part of me wanted to stop her. Despite my recent physical improvements my muscles are still pressure sensitive now and again. But I figured, what the heck.. mainly because I was feeling so darned good having someone touch me. Dedicated attention. Indeed. And before I knew it, Linda was also taking care of my legs, all the way down to my toes.
As typically happens, I figured that within 15 minutes I would be crashing hard. Very hard. But the crash seemed to be slow in coming. As mentioned previously, I am improving. Noticeably. Notably.
Then she finished.
Or did she?
"Let's wash your hair!" She offered with unrivaled enthusiasm.
This was something we discussed previously, something she suggested doing. But I never once considered taking action. Use the garden hose to wash my hair in the middle of the nursing home courtyard? I thought we were joking around.
So, I began to protest, not because I wasn't open to experience, but she'd already done enough. Way more than enough. But her hands-on attention humanized me, to the extent that I couldn't resist. It had been nearly two years since I'd been paid attention to in such a way. That was back when I had my initial original awesome fantastic caregiver. You remember her, don't you?
So Linda released the parking brake and wheeled me forward into the warming sunlight. I held my head over the edge of the cart. And then … icy ice cold water drenched my head. Talk about feeling alive, Yowzaaa!
Then, in measured intervals, she poured pink shampoo over my head, proceeded to massage my scalp, and then concluded with a thorough rinsing with that very same ice cold water. But by then, the temperature of the water didn't seem to matter as much. My hair was clean as could be.
And then, you would think we were done, right? Nope. Not done. She asked me if I wanted my hair combed. Per her astute observing, she somehow determined that no one had combed my hair in quite a long time. So I let her comb me. And it took quite a while with my tiny black plastic $0.69 comb. So while she undid my baby dreads, we chatted about this and that… same as we always do. Except, I was becoming very relaxed. Extremely relaxed, nearly working my way into a meditative state. Head to toe, my muscles were totally completely at ease. No fight or flight. No on-edge agitation. No nothing.
And then she was finished.
I spent the next four hours merely existing, simply being, feeling really okay about things. And I cannot recall the last time I was so relaxed, much less, for an extended period of time. And it may not seem like much at all to any of you, but what she did was very impactful.
After me, she had an additional 113 residents to tend to. Or in the least, some exorbitant number well beyond my ability to comprehend. Luckily, most of the other folk have access to regular showering. I suspect, but can I confirm, clean hair is the rule here. Either way, I am the exception.
Later that afternoon Dan came strolling outside half an hour early (for the designated smoke break). And it's not unusual for us to discuss things, for a few moments at a time, silent intervals between. But today… Wow! He was a regular chatterbox. And it didn't take me long to figure out why. He mentioned having lotion put on his arms, seeming rather enthusiastic in regards to the overall experience.
So for the next 30 minutes we went back and forth like an endless volley at a tennis match ...on steroids. Or meth. Maybe both? Dan was in a different place altogether, to the extent that he dominated the conversation… a welcomed change of pace.
So for at least one person other than myself, Linda's unsung efforts were noticeably beneficial. Although I guess, by me writing this, her efforts are now being sung.
In any case, I'm sure her fingers (and related muscles) will be sore as heck tomorrow, and possibly for the days following. Lotioning-up all those people (not to mention the countless shoulder massages) would likely take a lot out of a person.
Cheers to Linda.
I've got a "Part 2" all lined up, but I don't want to inundate you with too many blasted words.. as is my tendency. For now, 1,787 words should suffice.
Take care,
Howard
