MONDAY, 10/22/2018, 4:26 P.M. This has been a day from hell, about which I shall expound profusely until I can’t stand it any more. (Please forgive me for that.)
THE C.N.A. VISIT @ 10:30 A.M. My hospice C.N.A. shows up on time for my Monday bathing and hygiene session. As she finishes up she asks if I’d like to change into a fresh nightgown, to which I reply affirmatively, so Sam brings one from the bedroom and Leticia proceeds to remove the old one. This involved ripping the fabric out from beneath me, searing the miserable skin on the back of my thighs with such force that it felt like I was burned with a blow torch. I screamed bloody murder. Leticia finished as fast as she could and then rubbed my head, kissed my hands, cried with me and apologized for about 15 minutes. (I forgive her.)
THE R.N. VISIT @ 12:15 P.M. My hospice R.N., Stella, shows up at 12:15 for my weekly checkup (blood pressure: 115/66) and then begins treating the sores, wounds and cracked, peeling, bleeding skin on the back of my thighs and butt. This couldn’t be worse, more disgusting or more painful … and it’s a condition from which I’ve already been suffering, in one form or another, for at least 10 years. Sam and Stella find a way to roll me on my left side so she’ll have access to my shredded skin, but Stella decides that “scrubbing” is an appropriate and efficient way to clean, anesthetize and moisturize. The resulting pain is so sickening that I scream bloody murder. (Yes, again.)
SAM GOES TO COSTCO @ 2:30 P.M. and comes home with (you’ll never guess!) shrimp tempura, a treasure that’s been missing from the Costco freezer case for at least a year and a half. I eat five shrimp for a late lunch but discover that it’s almost impossible to digest them. I spend the next six hours belching.
THE BEDPAN HOO-HAH @ 11:30 P.M. This is an uncomfortable, humiliating and mostly horrible experience that I can’t discuss … so please don’t ask me.
THE R.N. VISIT @ 12:15 P.M. My hospice R.N., Stella, shows up at 12:15 for my weekly checkup (blood pressure: 115/66) and then begins treating the sores, wounds and cracked, peeling, bleeding skin on the back of my thighs and butt. This couldn’t be worse, more disgusting or more painful … and it’s a condition from which I’ve already been suffering, in one form or another, for at least 10 years. Sam and Stella find a way to roll me on my left side so she’ll have access to my shredded skin, but Stella decides that “scrubbing” is an appropriate and efficient way to clean, anesthetize and moisturize. The resulting pain is so sickening that I scream bloody murder. (Yes, again.)
SAM GOES TO COSTCO @ 2:30 P.M. and comes home with (you’ll never guess!) shrimp tempura, a treasure that’s been missing from the Costco freezer case for at least a year and a half. I eat five shrimp for a late lunch but discover that it’s almost impossible to digest them. I spend the next six hours belching.
THE BEDPAN HOO-HAH @ 11:30 P.M. This is an uncomfortable, humiliating and mostly horrible experience that I can’t discuss … so please don’t ask me.
There’s quite literally nothing else going on here right now aside from raising and lowering various parts of my hospital bed for early-morning amusement. You’d be surprised how ridiculous yet satisfying this can be.
Even so … it’s time to shut down the ol’ MacBook and give my eyeballs a rest. Let’s live dangerously and forget the Alamo altogether, okay?
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