Catching up

I've been trying to get back to blogging but just haven't felt up to sitting here for any length of time. The laptop is back at the kitchen table again but it's still kind of difficult to sit up in a chair.  I've got so many stories to tell, I'll probably try to break them down into segments as my stamina holds up. I may invest in another laptop that is smaller....but not now.  I just had Susan take my car by Les Schwab to check out my tires and my estimate is $748.  I knew the tread was wearing on all four but I was hoping the cost would be lower.  But why should it be?  This is my life right now.  Give all my money to everybody else.  I'll worry about it later.

When I think back over all the trauma I've experienced since that fall on my face and knee at the end of July, I sometimes feel like I've aged 5 years.  I'm very glad I got the surgery because I know the pain would not have gone away on its own. My knee was too far gone. The surgeon said it was one of the worst knees she'd ever seen and she could understand why I was in so much pain using the walker.  Helped validate the tears I've spilled these past weeks.

I'm in a lot of pain now but it was expected and I'm doing my exercises faithfully so all I can do is wait it out.  My appetite continues to be puny but that's fine.  That's the only thing that's fine about this whole ordeal.  My root canal was an unexpected $1000 expense but I'm thankful I only needed the one.  We'll see if a second one is needed later. A couple of my front teeth are still without feeling.  The broken front tooth he fixed (for free) held up for about a week or so and it broke off again.  I'll worry about that later.

Man, it sure got dark in here and here comes the rain.  I hope I don't lose electricity but the wind isn't blowing so perhaps I'll be okay.

The surgery went well.  I guess.  I was out of it. Had a spinal block.  As they rolled me in, I was surprised at how narrow the operating table was.  Lots of people in green scrubs and lots of shiny tools. I told them it didn't look much like Gray's Anatomy.  One person said she hates those medical shows as they're too unrealistic and everyone is just jumping in bed with everyone else.  Another didn't even know what the show was.

I had a nice water view in my private room after but I was so tired, I had no interest in looking out the window.  The nurses were all very nice but I got little sleep the entire time because of the constant intrusions to introduce the changing of the shift staff or to take my vitals, etc.  You become accustomed to the whole world viewing every body part you've ever tried to keep hidden.  I didn't even care towards the end who saw what.

I did have a problem one night, however, when this young male nurse came in to help me onto the toilet. I decided that I wasn't all that comfortable with the idea and asked for a female.  He never came in my room again so I probably hurt his feelings.  Sometimes, though, you just have to deal with being modest.

Jenni took me to Crestwood Nursing Home Friday afternoon and I was all ready for a peaceful sleep and to begin physical therapy.  Things didn't work out as planned, however.  I discovered immediately that my room mate (who I had looked forward to having) was a nut case who never ever shut up.  If I had been rested, I might have been able to deal with her but I was so tired and at my wits' end, I started having panic attacks.

My observations about the place when I visited a few days earlier were not as thorough as they should have been.  But I wasn't really sure what to look for in the first place.  The bed was uncomfortable, the pillow was like cement, the width of the bed wasn't even a full twin size. The tvs for each bed were 4 feet apart from each other mounted on the wall with no earphones. My roomie kept hers on  a fishing station all day and all night so trying to watch a show I wanted to was out of the question.

She may have been on the outskirts of dementia. I'm not sure.  Her daughter (who I found pleasant enough when she visited) confided in me that her mom was a hoarder and she hoped having to share the bathroom with her wasn't going to be a problem because she was a bathroom hog.  Oh dear!

The first night she called for aids to help her in the bathroom every hour or two.  Which I can understand but..... she'd get them in the bathroom and then "chat them up for twenty minutes."  It was like they were standing right next to my bed. When they came out of the bathroom, she would start whispering really loud.... be quiet...she's trying to sleep...and we don't want to bother her.  This happened several times.  One guy that was helping her she started asking if he liked her hair and she went into a long speel about the beauty shop.

She was a demanding patient and I picked up IMMEDIATELY that she was not a favorite with the staff.  She never stopped asking for anything she could think of......ice chips, ice water, warm my soup, cover me up with a blanket, get me a nurse; I'm having heart palpations, where's my phone? (the rooms didn't provide phones and the one they brought her was too far away from the base to work so they had to wheel her down the hall.)  She even requested a Catholic Bible but told them she isn't really a Catholic. It never ended.  

After a while her calls were pretty much ignored. Even when I called for something, I found no one coming. I was very isolated and felt unsafe. No one ever came with medication.  Told me I was still being "evaluated."  Meaning they didn't work on weekends.  And physical therapy didn't seem to be a weekend feature either.  No matter what question I asked of who, no one knew the answer and would have to find out and get back to me.

Three different women came in with clipboards to question me with stupid questions like "On a scale of 1 to 10, how important is it for you to pick out your own clothes.  I realized these were designed for the older patients who were staying long term but I felt it was a waste of time and energy asking me to get involved in beading or bingo or other crafts.  Then they asked me if I ever felt like killing myself.  Their eyes really perked up when I said Yeah, pretty much all the time.

"When did these feelings begin?"
"Right after I fell on my face."

The activities director asked me what I was interested in and said AWESOME! every time I mentioned a hobby.  I was trying not to roll my eyes.

The following morning at 7 a.m. I  got dressed and walked down the hall.  Must have looked like a homeless woman the way I was dressed and how my hair looked. No one paid a bit of attention to me as I sat by the back door whimpering.  I called Jenni and said "Come Get me!"  The half hour I sat there, not one person paid me any attention. Except....one sweet little Asian girl who recognized me from when she brought out meals. She came over and patted and rubbed my back and let me vent about the witch they stuck me in with and how I was over the edge.

When Jenni arrived, I told her about my night of no sleep. I suggested I go home  for the weekend to shower (showers were down the hall and no towels or washcloths or soap was in each bathroom in the room; just flimsy paper towels that broke apart when you used them) I told her if I could sleep in my bed, maybe I could come back on Monday when therapy started and request another room.

Good ole Jen!  "FU.... THAT!"  she said, "You're outta here!"  She went down to my room and started packing me up.  When she stopped by a nurses station to tell them she was checking me out, they had a cow.  Said I had to wait for the nurse on duty that day to arrive.  I suggested they call her and ask her to come in now but they didn't want to do that.  Jen said: Just give us the form!  They did.  I signed, they witnessed it, and Jenni said:  "Pull out your camera and take a picture of that bad boy!"

As she got me in the car, we drove off and she said: "Hey! You hungry?!  That was  the most fun I've had all week....breaking my mama out of a nursing home.

We got home, she unloaded the car, got my leg wrapped in plastic so she could help me shower, and I crawled in my own bed and slept for hours.  She went grocery shopping and we called Sue to come spend any time she could as well.  I was never so thankful in all my life to be home.

I called Home Health and they're going to sign me up again and a physical therapist will come to the house twice a week to help me with exercises.  I have the pictures of what I need to do (on the bed) and while they hurt like hell, Sue is helping me do them twice a day and I continue to walk with the walker.

I slept real bad last night. This morning I "think" I woke up with another UTI or yeast infection.  I used what I have on hand and will get that checked when home health comes.  Maybe tomorrow.  The special motion machine I was using at the hospital and at the rest home is also being brought to me so I can work on that while in bed too.  It keeps your leg moving and they like you to be on it for 6 to 8 hours a day.

And that is where things sit today.  I'm tired as all get out but I'm hoping things will calm down and I can get back on an even keel.  My theory about the lack of good care in some nursing homes is that they need MORE AIDS per patient and they need more money.  One way to start is to train one team that is strictly there to help people to the toilet and to clean up accidents.  These should be premium paying jobs; not the lowest paid!  Granted they aren't the glamour jobs but they should be rated higher than they are.  That comfort alone is worth more for the comfort of patients than anything else.

I heard call buttons going off and ringing endlessly the whole time I was there.  Not enough people caring for those who needed their help.  I realize not all nursing homes are the same but it's a shame we can't put the bad ones out of business.  Some patients (like my roomie) are more difficult to deal with and pull care away from others.  Big problem.  A sad problem.

Ironically, this roomie of mine lives on my street!  Right through the woods near Jenni's house.  Ha! Well, I sat here way too long and I'm too tired to proofread so sorry for the errors.