I'm really sick of this place. It's so dysfunctional. There are so many disconnects. For example, today I'm getting my medication and I notice the concoction is the wrong color. I ask the question and am told the order was changed by "the doctor", meaning the facility oncall doctor who I doubt rivals my ALS doctor, the head of neurology at the University of Washington Medical Center. I've had my Deanna Protocol routine approved by this board-certified physician and taken it for over two years. There is no flamin' way anyone at this place is remotely qualified to overrule me and my ALS doctor. We know this disease. They do not. Anyway, they made the change and nobody bothered to tell me. Typical. Disconnect. The night nurse got the order and the day nurse never passed on the information. Yesterday, the dietician wanted to reduce my folate. I said she doesn't get a vote. The nurse couched my refusal in more diplomatic terms.
Oh, and they're so attentive. It only takes an hour and a half to get your call light answered. Only an hour and a half to sit in shitty diapers or to stop choking or to overcome shortness of breath. So reassuring! I wish I were joking but the second shift is seriously taking that long the past two days! Of course, they cite being short-handed. "we are only three! " they say. And usually there are four for the 100- and 200-halls. (do not bother asking the management about the shortage, they have the innocent look down to a science. )
I remember catching fireflies, putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field. That field was my...
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