Skip to main content

Super Bowl Sunday

Today is the Super Bowl. My team, the Seattle Seahawks, play the New England Patriots in Arizona. Even though the game is miles away and I'm stuck in the hospital, Seahawks fever is running high. The nurses, patient care technicians, hospitality aides, and visitors are sporting their favorite player's jerseys. I plan on the same if I can get someone to put it on me.

Out of my window overlooking the Montlake Cut and Lake Washington, I spied a small plane towing a blue and white "12", the flag of the fans of the Seattle Seahawks. This city's going to erupt if we win the Super Bowl for the second time!

I'm waiting for my husband to arrive with the snacks. I requested Sabra hummus dip and chips. I love our football time together. I developed my affinity to football last season when I was in a nursing home. Since having ALS, I am unable to do so many activities that I gravitated to the television and hence, the sport of the season. Last year's Super Bowl was a not-to-be-missed event and I didn't miss it. It was awesome!

Well, Super Bowl XLIX was more exciting than Super Bowl XLVIII right up to the end. My team lost the Super Bowl. As a new football fan, (a little over a year), I have to say that I now know the agony of defeat. Although, my team lost, they played their hearts out and I will tell you right now that I am a Seattle Seahawks fan for life!
Labels:
Location: University of Washington Medical Center, University of Washington, 1959 Northeast Pacific Street, Seattle, WA 98195, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fall

Orange, gold, rust, burnt sienna, ochre, raw umber; the riot of fall colors, in the trees and at our booted feet; a drive in the countryside; the taste of hot apple cider on my lips; the satisfaction of a truckload of firewood we gathered and cut ourselves; elk herds on the move; hearty stews, savory soup, crusty whole-grain bread, pumpkin and gingerbread spice lattes; these are the memories I tap into the most this time of year. Cabela's fliers in the mailbox; Carhart's camo-clad hunters swarm outlying areas; mushroom garthering; huckleberry picking; logger burgers; forest service roads; cheese sandwiches on the woodstove; warm quilts, cool sheets, and flannel nightgowns; cold butt, warm heart.  Immensely grateful to have the well of memories to draw upon.
Post a Comment
Read more

Lashing Out

Fed up. Sick of hearing, "I'm sorry."  Apologies don't erase the pain you inflict on me. You pull my pubic hair. Your nitrile gloves pull the hair from my head. Not once in a while but day in and day out. You turn me in a manner that suits you rather than in a manner that doesn't stress my body. Why won't you use the pad and sheet to turn me as one unit? Instead, you allow my body to twist as you hold me one-handed. How good you are at your job. What part of "my muscles are dying" don't you understand?
Post a Comment
Read more

On-the-job Sass

I continue getting sass from one particular caregiver. He says, "You need to communicate with us." he continues to completely miss or dismiss the concept of I would if I could . It is part and parcel to having ALS, I am losing my ability to communicate and it is his job to assist me. Part of helping me, like it or not, is to learn my routine and anticipate needs, when possible. He misses the fact that I'm failing more every day and night time is when I'm weakest. It is extremely insensitive and arrogant to expect me to cater to his needs and expectations. Pushing me to repeat words or expound on a simple one word suggestion is physically taxing on my system, adding stress which further depletes me. Cuing is supposed to be caregiver's domain, not the patient's. Here is the situation, I am being changed. In the midst of the action, as seems to be his practice, he is sidelined asking me trivial, meaningless, but energy-sapping questions. Do I want my legs raise...
Post a Comment
Read more