Musings of a simple everyday life.
Monday, 2 December 2019
Hospitals Suck
I guess if you're in the pediatric wing it's not so bad....you get new life. Little babies....fresh, healthy, happy, and really scared parents! But the rest of the hospital sucks....people don't really smile. Nurses, doctors, patients, visitors.....everyone is pensive...heavy like they are walking around with a weight on their shoulders. That's how I feel every-single-time I walk down the hall. Hospitals are a soul sucking place despite all of the excellent care that is being given.
I knew this before when Dad was in the hospital but it takes a really special person to be a nurse because everything is always a problem. Bed 3 needs their lunch, Bed 2 needs to poop, Bed 1 needs their blood checked and then their insulin. Bed 3 needs to be put back into be before they eat lunch. Bed 1 needs lunch. Bed 2 needs bedpan taken away, new person being brought in for Bed 4 and everyone needs vitals and meds.....and on and on and on and on....holy shit-balls! The nurse takes care of 4 patients during the day, 6 at night....rounds take an hour and half and you need to read each chart first....and things get missed. There's not one shred of consistency. So we say the same things over and over and over again to each nurse that comes on staff and we breathe a sigh of relief when a nurse comes on that we have seen before!!
And things get missed....my sister and I are constantly reminding the nurses that mom is a brittle diabetic, her insulin levels are very sensitive and if they start to drop, they could potentially plummet very quickly. She has a broken arm!! How do nurses NOT know this?? Now especially that she isn't wearing her sling. And where's the god damn air mattress?? Every time we want one it takes a week to order. That's frustrating.
Nurses put up with a lot of shit....verbally abusive patients that are coming out of anesthetic, physically abusive patients that are coming out of anesthetic, patients that are trying to escape, patients that won't eat,patients that weigh lots, patients that scoot to the end of the bed, rip out nose tubes, IV's and catheters......for 12 hours a day. What an exhausting job.
I don't smile when I'm here. I try to stay positive for my mom's sake but I don't smile....my face feels drained and when I go home at night I feel like I have left a little piece of my soul on that hospital floor. I help others that are here because the nurses are so damn busy. So I help my mom's room mates get water with ice chips. I console others who are scared and confused. I help move tables, arrange phones, get bags because there is nothing like the feeling of helplessness and nobody should feel that way, ever.
So, I continue to sit vigil with mom in her now private room. I advocate, I talk when she can't, I am just a body so my mom doesn't feel helpless....or alone.....and I leave a little bit of my soul every day.
Because hospitals suck.
Monday, 3 December 2018
Fortune and Frustrations
Sunday, 28 January 2018
Time Passes
It's been a year since I started my leave to be with my dad in his final days. I now find myself on leave again, but this time to deal with my own health issue...my bum knee. This is not what I bargained for at this age...but here we are and I have a knee that has decided to go tits up, beyond certain repair. But I've had surgery in the hopes that I will be able to create a little bit of tissue to coat the surface of my bone and add a bit of cushion so the knee will last at least another 7-8 years before I need a partial replacement.
This is all terrible news to me. I'm quite devastated. It seems like I went from being very able bodied to very broken in the span of a week. And by very broken, I mean VERY! I can't do ANYTHING I used to. No kneeling, croutching, bending, no sports at all, no standing for long periods, and basically no walking properly which is wreaking havoc with the rest of my body and making me an entirely undesirable person to be around.
Yup, I'm a straight up bitch. Grumpy and tired all the time! But that's what chronic pain does to humans... It wears us down, makes us irritable and unhappy. This is what dad felt for the last 10 years and it scares me!! I am finding that I'm thinking about him a great deal while I'm off recovering from surgery. I grunt and groan as he did getting off the couch and he was 35 years older than me! WTF. I rub my knee a lot and I'm sitting around in comfortable loose pants.... Just like him. So I am then forced to ask myself, how will my healing and dealing be different than dad's. I'm still working on that one.
I read a funny post from a friend today.... The human body can create a fully functioning little human complete with a respiratory system, circulatory system, and nervous system and all of that but it takes us 7 years to heal from a sprained ankle and it will never be the same again!! Like seriously? I created 2 tiny little humans but my body can't heal a tiny spot on my knee. Doesn't seem right.
And just to add insult to injury, I've been forced to start taking blood thinners because of a post surgery clot in my leg. The prescribing nurse at the hospital warned me not to hit my head..... ☑, not to fall or bang into anything.... ☑, not to cut myself (shaving is now a high risk sport).... ☑ BUT the kind woman neglected to fill me in as to how blood thinners would negatively impact my body WHEN I HAVE MY PERIOD! Holy hell is all I have to say!! I hope it stops soon before I become anemic!
So, time certainly passes, at a very quick pace. But a day doesn't go by that I don't think about my dad. Most of the time it makes me sad, but more frequently, I laugh about what dad would have said or done in certain situations. I loved his Gino-isms. Just last night I was frustrated about something and it had me quite upset, so I had to hobble around the island in the kitchen a few times on my crutches. Dad would have asked why I was 'pasteing', of course he would have meant to say pacing but it never came out that way. I laughed very hard.
I am hoping that the lead up to Christmas this year will be less painful than it was last year... It was almost unbearable at times. Overwhelming sadness that I didn't know how to compartmentalize.... And then just like that after Christmas, it was gone. I miss him terribly... It'll be a tough few weeks ahead I'm sure.
But I'll reflect....and given time, this wound too will heal and be replaced with a thousand new memories...good or bad...it's how we humans role. Now if only we could figure out how to grow a new knee....
Friday, 14 April 2017
Healing
I physically hurt. My chest constricts, breathing seems difficult. This happens many times during the day. And I always feel like I'm on the verge of tears. It sucks....it fucking sucks. Losing a grandparent is one thing....but losing a parent. Nothing compares. Nothing comforts. Nothing can prepare a person for the hurt, the loss, the sense of emptiness, a feeling of being incomplete and the CONSTANT wish for more time, the CONSTANT looking back and wishing you could have said more, done more.
I hate it.....this whole process fucking stinks. And what I can't get out of my head is the image of my father's soulless body laying in the hospital bed. Proof that he won't be coming back. And I'm waiting for my head to heal, for my memory to replace that image with Dad playing with the boys, painting, having coffee on the deck, enjoying the sun on the porch swing. And yet, those images hurt too, knowing I won't see them any more. The most devastating image is Zac looking for his Opa on the couch...
I cry daily...I'm severely dehydrated. I should drink more water.
And yet, I am healing. I ask myself all the time, what would Dad do. And I am trying to find humour...and I'm trying to laugh. There have been funny things. Like the call Mom got on the morning of Dad's gathering from the heart monitor people in Peterborough saying that they haven't been able to get a reading for the past week.....well duh! Followed by the Purolator person delivering a package and requiring a signature from Dad....funny.
I try to let myself relax and enjoy conversations. I'm so very appreciative of my friends and the staff at school. They have all been wonderful. I have a better understanding of what others have gone through before me, younger staff members losing younger fathers/mothers. I am so grateful for their support and understanding. I'm lucky to have this extended 'family'. The best indicator that healing is happening is laughing so hard it hurts. I have my friend Sara to thank for that one. Her regaling a story from the weekend about a body scrub, a plastic sheet and only 2 face cloths....that was some funny stuff! She too lost her Dad a few years ago...I guess we all just need time.
But it all still fucking sucks. Still so many thoughts that I will struggle with and that I will struggle with alone.
I miss my tangible Dad. Someone I could hug....someone I could hear, the small nuances of his language, his hands the way he would hold a paintbrush or squeeze my shoulder. The smell of Old Spice. I miss him.....
Thursday, 23 March 2017
Finality
Dad was quite liked by the staff at the Haliburton Hospital. The nurses could generally get a smile out of dad each day and visa versa. Dad was larger than life, even at his sickest. When the funeral home finally picked Dad up from the hospital, Carol was right on the ball and captured the fact that Dad had a big personality by saying, "GINO HAS LEFT THE BUILDING'! It was very fitting.
Sunday, 19 March 2017
Intoxicating Sunshine
I sit now again at my father's bedside, being a presence, talking to his far away conscience while his room is flooded with glorious sunshine. You know, one of those days that Dad and I would have gone outside to enjoy. One of those days I would have had to try not to get him sunburned.
The crystal that Mom has hung in Dad's window is showering his bed in a sea of colours. Spots of rainbows all over. It feels primitive, the sun. Energy, the basic unit of life. The sun shines on the beautiful rose that mom brought. The rose with it's deep deep velvety red colour, that sits watch over Dad, undaunted in it's task.
We naturally crave sunlight. Those of us that live in Canada travel to warmer climes so that we can fill our souls and rejuvenate all of the sunshine that we have been deprived over our long winter. I sit in the sun....it makes me sleepy....it is truly intoxicating. I get tanned so I feel better, radiant.
Sunlight....it opposes darkness.
My Mom was very lucky this morning. The sun was bright and warm, and after another sleepless night at Dad's bedside, as mom was driving home from the hospital, the intoxicating sunshine lulled her into a sleepy state and she decided that the road was no longer a suitable surface to drive on....so she went for the snowbank. I am glad that there still WAS a snowbank. The car came to rest very precariously on the side of the hill of snow. All is well, Mom was not hurt, only shaken up, a lot. She's pissed about the damage to the car, but we are all very happy that she was not injured. I'm not sure that this family could take much more in the way of tragedy....
Intoxicating....
I feel intoxicated...and no, it's not from all of the drinking with friends this past week. Intoxicated from this process of dying. Not understanding it, being overwhelmed by it, never knowing what to think about it.
As I stand in the late afternoon sun shining into Dad's room, I have a thought. Death seems to be a force...with energy....I just can't explain it.
I am happy to have had my sunshine intoxication this past week....I am glad the sun shines today.
Sunday, 12 March 2017
Death, morphine, sunshine and laughter
Hospitals Suck
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