Like Sand Through the Hourglass

So are the Days of my Life. Life here on the 5A ward is ..........amusing and entertaining. First off, I've joined the March of the Old People. At 11:30 every day I can be found shuffling my way along with all the other shufflers, to the lunchroom. While I started off as one of the slowest shufflers, I'm now one of the faster ones. It goes without saying that I'm one of the youngest whipper snappers of the group. Gary, my roomie from the other hospital, is one of the younger ones too and there is one other guy who is around our age, maybe even younger. But as for the rest, the crowd has to be 20 years my senior.

At times I can't tell whether I'm living in a sitcom or the Twilight Zone. The cast of characters is quite fascinating. There is one older gentleman who dearly loves his ketchup and I'm trying to figure out who he looks more like - Mr. Burns or Apu - both from The Simpsons. Although I think I'll have to go more with Mr. Burns. The first time he shuffled in, I wanted to yell out "Mr. Burns!?!?" but thought better of that idea.

Then there is this rather odd older lady named Penny. Most of the time she seems perfectly fine, but then something will set her off and you can't help but look at her twice to see if she's joking or a few bats flew out of her belfry. A couple of days ago I was doing exercises with a small group of other shufflers (and weren't they interesting - they were designed for people in their 80's and lets just say I didn't work up much of a sweat - but hey - it's not like I'm getting a lot of workouts and every bit helps) and Penny was one of them. She looked at one of the other shufflers - a very sweet old English lady and proceeded to ask the sweet English Lady why she kept following her. She must have asked about 7 or 8 times. Since the sweet old English Lady was in the room first, the following bit confused me.

Of course there is Grumpy Old Guy. They are all old, but this guy is grumpy along with being older. Then there is the cheerful funny lady in the souped up wheelchair. This wheelchair is top of the line - power and it can go up and down with the push of a button. I do believe I have a slight case of wheel chair envy. The one I have is just a plain old everyday one that you have to use your arms to make it move. It is a funky green colour though.

The music they play at lunch is not my cuppa though. Patsy Cline, George Jones, Big Band - I think I could quite happily do without listening to any of that. Yesterday though the nurse put on the radio rather than a DVD and I chuckled to myself when I heard Telephone by Lady Gaga and Beyonce. Lord I've missed that music!!!!!!!! I gave the nurse a thumbs up. I was very tempted to try and lead the shufflers in a group dance, but thought they would probably turn me down. But sometimes it's just so hard not to break out into song - songs I listen to - like Black Eyed Peas, Lady Gaga, Adam Lambert etc. So when I heard the Lady Gaga/Beyonce song I gave the nurse a thumbs up.

Time has lost all meaning here. Someone could tell me it's Tuesday and I'd believe them and the next person could say it's Friday and I'd believe them too. It's an odd feeling this - being so unplugged from the outside world.

They have a hairdresser in the hospital and I had my hair done yesterday. What another bizarre experience that was. I had to be wheeled to it - it's down several floors and so far I haven't walked quite that far yet. The hairdresser was asking me how my hairdresser did my hair and I said she usually washed it, cut it, blow dried it and then used a flat iron to straighten it. The hairdresser said that she didn't have any of those new things (meaning a flat iron) I was rather startled at that as to me it's a tool every hairdresser just - well - has. But considering the average age of her clients is probably around 70 and many of them don't have a full head of hair, I suppose a flat iron isn't called for that often. She said she had brought in a curling iron from home since she uses that once in a while. The whole thing was just so strange. It was like I was in a beauty parlour from the 60's or something. She washed my hair and cut it - just a very, very small token amount - and then got a brush to blow dry

it. And she only had one brush!!!! Any hair dresser I've gone to has tons of them depending on the style. But nope - she only had one - and it wasn't a round brush. Still - considering the tools she had on hand and the fact that she probably hadn't done hair on someone as young as me for ages and ages, she did a pretty good job. And I had one of my kids bring me up my flat iron and make up and I straightened my own hair and made myself purty this morning - why I'm not quite sure - but it does make me feel more myself.

And in other news, they weighed me the other day. It was exactly a week before that when I moved to this hospital and they weighed me then too. So in one weeks time, I managed to lose 20 lbs!!! Mind you, that was 9/10'ths water I think. I'm on water pills and

the amount of time I have to check out that particular room is more than any other combined. I mentioned a while ago that my feet had swollen up like blow fish when I was in Florida. Well, by last week my whole body had. But still it was nice to hear that I dropped that much weight in such a short amount of time. I've been trying very hard to eat healthy while here. I order vegetables (blech) and everything. And I go for physio/exercising every day. The physiotherapist found a follow-up physiotherapist at a gym near where I live so when I get out and go home, I think I'll join the gym so I can continue to exercise.

Well, that's about all I have to report. Oh - my going home day is Sept. 29/10 - next Wednesday. So that's not that far off now. Then my days living in Twilight Zone will be over and you know what? I'll miss them.

March of the Old People

Now if this were a romance novel, it would be an entirely different type post. But life is not a romance novel. I'm settling into life here at Parkwood and if it was a romance novel, many of the other residents would be athletes who had hurt themselves while doing super sports. Or they would be CEO's who had accidents with their beemers. Or possibly there would be a few bad boy types who crashed their motorcycles. And life would be very interesting on Floor 5, Wing A.

But instead, just about every resident here averages 30 years older than me and are having hip replacement operations or just plain fell. My room mate for example, a very nice lady, is 33 years older than I am. I'm just starting to emerge from my cocoon of a room as I get walking safely with a walker and don't need a 'spotter' for heading to the washroom and back. But even in the brief glimpses I've gotten, I realize I have nothing in common with anyone around me. In fact I find it very surreal. We are all expected to get out of our beds and eat our lunch in the main floor lunchroom. So far due to different reasons, I've only managed this, what I dubbed 'March of the Old People' twice now. The first time I was seated at a table with two old men, both had to be in their 80's. I can't even begin to describe the oddness and hilarity of sitting at a table with two guys wearing matching custom made I'm sure flannelette plaid bibs. And man! Do these people know there meds. Listening to their conversations, many seem to be intimately acquainted with their pharmacists and can roll out those latin names like nobody's business. And crotchety some of them???? Good heavens they are cranky.

I couldn't make it for the March of the Old People yesterday, but today when I got to the lunchroom, they were playing toons and having a singalong. There's nothing quite like hearing a room full of people belting out 'How much is that Doggie in the Window'? Some of the men really had fun doing the barking after the one line. I'm afraid I didn't guess any of the name that tunes. I'm not really up on my Patsy Cline, George Jones or Big Band era music. Now if they had played some Lady Gaga, Adam Lambert or Beyonce I might have stood a chance.

It's been interesting times here that's for sure. The one day I had a sad day and was in tears most of the day. Telling myself this is actually a good thing and it's the best opportunity to get healthy and sort out whatever health issues I've had over the years just wasn't cutting it. I miss my cats. I was tired of even the simplest things being mountains without a single hill in sight.
I miss Ron so much being here.

But then a day can turn on a dime. Yesterday started out bad again. I had to go back to the other hospital for a follow-up visit in the ortho department. One of the medications they are giving me is water pills to make me pee. And boy do they ever work. Real well! They work very, very well! I had to have a family member accompany me to the hospital so Ryan got drafted. We were sitting there waiting for the transpo when they medication kicked in. And then the logistics set in. I was in a wheelchair and didn't have my walker with me. Ryan found a washroom and wheeled my into the womens', but then I was stuck. I don't know how to work a wheelchair!! I couldn't get it moving forward, I couldn't get it moving backwards. And I had to go - BAD. Thankfully there was a health person in there who wheeled me into the stall and by being very careful, I managed to do what needed to be done, but this person had left and I was in the washroom by myself. I had to yell out for Ryan to come in and get me. And we hadn't even left the hospital yet!!

I had 4 more nightmare trips to the can - every 15 minutes over the next little while. Ryan was very good about taking his Mama to the can so often, but still I could tell it was frustrating for him as well as for me. And neither of us thought the appointment wait would take so long and he had to get to work. So by the time I got back to my room, I was ready to hurl a chair through the window. Instead though, I channeled my frustration into my physio and really went way beyond what the physiotherapist, a rather nice young woman, not a hunky gorgeous guy, had planned for me. So I was feeling pretty darn good by the end of it.

And Andy, my room mate from the other hospital, made it here this afternoon. In fact, it turns out he's in the room next to the one I'm in. I just found out I'm going to be here at least two more weeks - so who knows what might happen. It will be nice to have someone my own age around. And doesn't that seem odd to say - someone my own age - when up until I came here, I was thinking I was getting up there in years. Now I'm feeling like just a very young whipper snapper.

Coming to you from Rehab

Nope - not Dr. Drew's famous people rehab - this is the rehab hospital. I got here yesterday but between one thing and another, I didn't have much time on line.

So in 2 days time they are keeping me hopping. I had my staples removed, my leg wrapped for swelling, my first physio. They have me dressed and up for all meals. I've had ultrasound on two different body parts. And the little dearlings gave me a dieuretic or water pill, so I have to go to the can every 15 minutes. Considering the amount of work it takes to do something so very simple, well, I told the nurses they would be all be sick to death of me by the end of the their shifts. Thankfully shifts just changed so I haven't had to pester the new group.......yet.

But best of all - I plucked the chins on my hair out! Now some of you who haven't yet gone through 'the change' are thinking eee-wwww. But I tell you increased facial hair is one of those symptoms your mama doesn't tell you. And despite have a broken leg, a bad, bad booboo on my elbow and other and various assorted injuries that started coming out, the long chin hairs were the thing that kept bothering me the most!!! Why is that I wonder???? Ah well - the little chinny, chin chin hairs are gone now

I haven't felt much like reading though. All this time and all these books that are here with me and the urge isn't there. I did download Pamela Clare's Naked Edge to my Kobo though when she mentioned what happened to Gabe and the first chapter has our heroine falling off a cliff and breaking her fibula. I couldn't help but think - I did that too :~)

Well - it's been a while - time to start bugging the next shift now. Just wait until the laxative they gave me kicks in - fun times tonight!

I met my Nurse Rached today

Nurse Mildred Ratched is the main antagonist from Ken Kesey's 1962 novel One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, as well as the 1975 film.

A cold, sadistic and passive-aggressive tyrant, Nurse Ratched has become the stereotype of the nurse as a battle axe. She has also become a popular metaphor for the corrupting influence of power and authority in bureaucracies such as the mental institution in which the novel is set.

Contents

In the novel

Nurse Mildred Ratched is the head administrative nurse at the Salem, Oregon State (Mental) Hospital, where she exercises near-absolute power over the patients' access to medications, privileges, and basic necessities such as food and toiletries. She capriciously revokes these privileges whenever a patient displeases her. Her superiors turn blind eyes because she maintains order, keeping the patients from acting out, either through antipsychotic and anticonvulsant drugs or her own brand of "therapy", which consists mostly of humiliating patients into doing her bidding. Her greatest success is the stuttering, suicidal Billy Bibbit, who is so terrified of her that he does whatever she says.

When Randle McMurphy arrives at the hospital, however, her dictatorial rule is nearly toppled: he flouts her precious rules with impunity, and inspires other patients to follow. Her attempts to cow him into submission — at first with threats and mild punishments, then with shock therapy — are unsuccessful, serving only to fuel his defiance.

Eventually McMurphy sneaks his prostitute girlfriend into the asylum, and encourages her to relieve Billy of his virginity. Ratched threatens to tell Billy's mother about the transgression. Since Billy fears his mother as much or more than he fears Ratched, the threat frightens him into committing suicide. Enraged, McMurphy attacks Ratched, and nearly chokes her to death.

In retribution, Ratched has McMurphy lobotomized. Another patient, Chief Bromden, the narrator of the book, later smothers McMurphy as a mercy killing. However, while Ratched's main antagonist has been removed, McMurphy has the last laugh, as her control over the other patients is gone, because he permanently damaged her vocal cords when he choked her, in effect destroying the primary tool she used to enforce her will. She can no longer speak, at least not very well, and often must write notes to communicate. With Ratched crippled, she can no longer intimidate the other patients, and the institution is saved.

It looks like I'll be moving to a new hospital today. This new one is just across the street and I have 'people' there too - it helps to work in the system. This new hospital is a rehabilitive one and I was supposed to meet with a representative yesterday to see if I qualified - too 'well' to be at this one, but not 'well' enough to go home. I knew things would be 'off' yesterday morning though when I first met the am nurse when she showed up for her shift around 6:30 shift. I adore the nurse/case managers I work for and this adoration is now spreading to the nursing staff here. They are wonderfully warm, caring people who manage to retain their dignity and patience and professionalism through some real tough times. But this nurse in particular yesterday didn't introduce herself - the first time that's happened in over the week I've been here. I knew there would be issues after the first intro:

Her: Debra, it's time to get up

Me: Actually, my name is really Kristie, My first name is Debra but I go by Kristie.

Her: But it says Debra on your chart.

Me: Yes, but I don't go by that name and if you call my by it, chances are I won't answer since I have'd used it since I was two -well over 50 years now.

Her: Well then, Kris,

Me: No, it's Kris-tie {thinking - don't fuckin' argue with me over my name at 0-7-00 in the fuckin' morning when I had about 2 hours sleep due to a patient melt down the night before that lasted most of the night!}

Anyway - later on in the morning, this occupational therapist said he would be back to see me and see how far I progressed. I pressed my call button and Nurse Rached came in and before I finished explaining that I wanted help cleaning up since I looked awful and smelled worse, muttered something and turned around and left!!

She came back about half an hour later but I didn't know was going to do this, and said, all right, let's get you clean and ready. Walk to the washroom/shower stall. (it's about 30 feet away)

Me: I haven't walked half that distance yet!!

Her: Well, your going to have to if you go to Parkwood. They won't let you just sit around.

Me: I know that, but I've been working with physiotherapists and we are just getting started. I haven't walked close to that far - it's not that I'm trying to get out of it I just haven't done it with the people I'm working with.

Her: Don't be silly. We have most of our patients walking a lot further than this by the second day.

Me: Smoke starting to come out my ears - fine, I'll try it, but I hope they don't come too soon after we are done, and I don't have the energy to show them what I can do since you've already tired me out.

I reached out for her arm to help steady myself, but she pulled it away, saying they won't allow me that kind of help at Parkwood, I manage to get on my feet and shuffle to the washroom/shower stall.

Then - doesn't she bloody stay and shower me!!! She wouldn't let me have help walking to it, but sitting down on the bench where I can do it myself, she's the one holding the shower head - and won't let go! And gets soap in my eyes.

Finally we are done, I'm back in my bare assed gown - oh - and I should say at this point she wanted us to start our journey while they guy was walking around the room picking up breakfast dishes and putting clean sheets and stuff away. These hospital gowns are BACKLESS and while a good deal of my natural dignity has had to go down the drain, that does NOT mean I want to moon the food guy!

I'm sitting, arms crossed in my gown in the bathroom and ask if she can please get the wheel chair I can get into once I walk to it - hey - I'm willing to cooperate.

Her: I don't know where it is.

Me: Well, perhaps you could look for it.

Her: They are going to make you walk at Parkwood

Me:(why are we going over this same conversation all over again???) Yes, I know - and I will be ready and willing to work, but right now I'm exhausted. I've walked twice as far as I have yet, I had a shower which took a lot out of me and I don't want to be overtired when they get here.

Her: Well, the least you could do is try it. And then if you can't make it, I'll look for the wheel chair.

Knowing this is as much as she'll concede, I say fine. About halfway there, I'm exhausted, my leg is hurting as much as it has since I've first arrived and my other leg is really starting to hurt. I stopped.

Her: what are you doing?

Me: I'm stopping. Really, I have reached the end. I can't breathe and I hurt all over.

It is at this point I realize Nurse Rached has no intention of helping me out. She is in a power game and she will not allow herself to loose. My only choices are to stand there or somehow hope I can dig deep into everything I have and make it. I have enough fury in me to make it. Then when I'm in bed, almost crying from pain she said,' see - you didn't need to get prissy!'

I thought my room mate was going to see me commit murder if I hadn't bee so exhausted. Honestly - I NEVER get that mad.

Oh - and bitch spiked my medication. She slipped me an enema pill that kicked in at the end of the day and kept me on the toilet for over an hour. Mind you, I felt mighty cleansed after.

And the physio people showed up about 1/2 an hour after Nurse Rached left the room and I couldn't do what I needed to to. Thankfully they gave me credit for the morning's workout and came back again in the afternoon and I did very well they said. The physiotherapist gave me an orange popsicle and said only her best patients got popsicles.