BATHING AND HYGIENE SESSIONS. My hospice C.N.A., Leticia, comes at 10:30 a.m. on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. And she also washes my hair on Mondays. She’s the best. And she gives a great shampoo!
ROUTINE CHECKUPS. My hospice medical team — Martha and Leslie — will be here every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, too, usually around the same time as Leticia. Checkups always include taking my “vitals” (blood pressure, temperature, heart rate), asking when was the last time I pooped, and medicating the skin on the back of my thighs to prevent pressure sores (I’ve had too many of those miserable things) and nasty skin breakdown due to being an old woman with diabetes. (We only do the skin treatment hoo-hah on Mondays.)
In addition, we also discussed the shitty UTI that never goes away no matter how many antibiotics I take. For instance, during the last three weeks alone I’ve had two back-to-back rounds of Nitrofurantoin followed by five days of Amoxicillin Clavulanate. Although the burning spasms are less frequent than they used to be — five times a day instead of five times every hour — the fact that I still have any at all means the infection is probably still there. The point is … because I’m permanently catheterized, my R.N. believes I’ll probably have this goddamn pain for the rest of my life. This is as good as it gets. And the hospice will no longer offer me antibiotics to fight UTIs because I’m dangerously close to becoming completely resistant. I accepted the news as well as could be expected. I’m a realist.
OTHER HOO-HAHS THIS WEEK. Our maid will be here around 1 p.m. on Wednesday. SPOTLESS HOUSE! Yee-haw!
It’s 10 p.m., Sam’s asleep on the sofa, and I just turned off the TV so I can hear myself think. Earlier we watched a hilariously atrocious movie called Bureau of Missing Persons (1933) starring Lewis Stone as Captain Webb, Pat O’Brien as Detective Butch Saunders, and Bette Davis as a mysterious chick named Norma Roberts who’s being framed for murder.
The film is set in NYPD’s Missing Persons Bureau, and the introduction announces that the storylines are all based on “actual cases.” Except it’s just not remotely possible that any actual cases could be this fucking stupid. For instance … a wife files a missing persons report on her husband, who’s eventually located by Detective Saunders shacked-up with a random blonde in a negligée. Captain Webb apparently feels so sorry for the poor, misunderstood husband that he arranges for the dude to take a train to a distant suburb, where the local police will pretend to pick him up with “amnesia” and drive him back to his wife. Seriously. And another painfully stupid case involves blackmail. The blackmailer instructs his victim to take three homing pigeons, tie a $500 bill to one leg of each pigeon, and then let the birds fly away to deliver the cash. So what does Webb suggest? He tells the blackmail victim to tie blank paper to the pigeons’ legs instead, and he’ll hire a charter plane to follow the pigeons and figure out where the blackmailer is hiding out. Are we really supposed to believe that an airplane can fly low enough — and SLOW enough — over Manhattan to trail a couple of PIGEONS?! The first time Sam and I saw this movie we nearly peed in our pants. It’s still hilarious … and we’ve seen this movie at least half a dozen times already. Promise me you’ll keep an eye out for it on TCM, okay?
I’ve got a headache. I know it’s not from lack of sleep because I slept almost all day today, so maybe I just need to stop squinting at my computer screen and do something else for a while. Maybe a good movie, or a few episodes of “Bar Rescue.”
Thank you for reading this … and if you happen to remember the Alamo, mazel tov!
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