Skip to main content

Bliss Interrupted

Well, there it is there! It was bound to happen, but it took not a week for this home to violate my trust, contradict themselves, and demean me.

This evening, Valentine's Day, I was unable to go to the bathroom (#2) when I got frustrated. I was trying to communicate a new method, getting a new bolster at the foot of the bed to push against. I figured it would give me leverage. My husband has no tolerance for what he percieves as my impatience, emotions, (frustration, anger, sadness), or ridiculous notions. (Yeah, he left me when I needed him.)

I was frustrated because : (1)  I keep having to deal with constipation, (2) my speech is failing at a rapid pace, even my husband doesn't decipher me, (3) The charge nurse, nurse, and patient care technician all decided it was a problem to turn me on my side without lowering my bed to the floor. (Yet, they've already set the precedent with me in the past two nights that it was okay to be on my side with the bed at the regular height.)

Two issues I have with the latter: (1) it's reminiscent of the iron fist and selective enforcement of "policy" and (2) lowering the bed to the floor was used as a form of control and demeaning to a lucid patient by Life Care Center of Federal Way. I've never had my humanity and dignity wrenched from me so much!

Being dependent sucks!
Labels:
Location: Seattle, WA, 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

Shards Cling To

I just met my new psychologist and I already like her. I would say that it is effortless to talk to her, but talking to anyone through an augmentative and alternative communication (AAC) device takes a great deal of effort. One must think about what to say and drill it down concisely and succinctly, Then attempt to type it out with your eyes on a wonderous, but infuriating machine, and hope you nail the 'Speak' button, and not the 'Cancel' button. You're praying that the device doesn't spontaneously, disengage the eye gaze, leaving you mute and helpless. You're also praying that the calibration holds and your eyes don't tire or dry out. Aside from all of that, she did not overwhelm me with rapid fire questions, nor invade my personal space, by insisting on reading while I'm writing, instead of allowing me to "speak". Those things are huge. Counseling somebody with my disabilities, present unique challenges. I have major physical deficit...
Post a Comment
Read more