Drowning in the shit
I am sinking in the shit. Drowning in the shit. I cannot pull myself out anymore and there is no one left to help pull me from this valley of shit.
I didn’t talk to dear brother today. It was his birthday and I sent him a video and picture via Facebook. He never responded. He doesn’t respond much anymore. We are all hanging on by or own personal threads right now.
Everyone when ask says that dad died of Parkinson’s. Parkinson’s doesn’t kill you. Something else happens that kills you. In dad’s case it was heart failure and it very well may have been an overdose of meds to calm him down.
I of course find myself now thinking about death a lot more. I also thought this morning that I have all of my sixties to get through before I really need to worry about death.
Physical therapy
I spend a lot of time in physical therapy. A lot of my time is spent waiting on a therapist. I don't mind. Listening to all of the conversations are fun to listen to. Holin has two men in right now. Boo never shuts up. He is constantly talking shit about everyone and everything. Jacob is another weird fuck who constantly breaks into conversations and is always talking so completely out of context that it takes everything for me to keep from giggling uncomfortably.
Holin is my tech also. Holin gets saddled with the weirdoes.
The techs seem to be able to function with the patients and accomplish a lot of good things. Of course when they intersect together there seems to be some very real uncomfortable energies and even though most of it does appear to stem from sexual frustration there is a deeper frustration going on that involves their professional immediate response to a number of stimuli.
The waiting game
This life that is temporarily mine I find myself waiting for everything and for a man that has Absolutely no patience it is pure hell sometimes.
I am presently waiting for my daughter and grandson to show up.
The whispering
Roommate’s whispering was intense tonight with references to me about being Jesus. Out of nowhere he would blurt out "Jesus saves. Save me. Jesus is angry with me. He won't save me."
Cross-eyed, crazy and full of Pepsi and mini Hershey bars and potato chips. Yea it's time for the wonder boy to come out of the woods and save the day.
All the frustration in the world over my roommate and his snoring and whispering and the whole misogynistic thing toward women with the babe and baby thing he goes and buys me a diet Pepsi and a snickers bar. Of course there are two aspects to this situation. He is basically playing the same like me game he plays with women with me or, well there isn’t another option. It’s all very fucking creepy coming from a forty something person who really has no reason for still being here after being here five years well, wait schizophrenia and the inability to function as a normal person in the real world does count for something.
Apparently there is a group of people with mental health problems that don’t get to go to facilities designed for such things and end up in places like this where they really don’t get the care they should. I’m beginning to believe that I might also be one of those lost souls.
It keeps me up at night.
My roommate took a shit and I am going to have to sleep in my chair in the hallway.
The nurse gave me some spray that hides the scent of death. It helped.
His talking to himself, it makes him feel safe and surrounded by positive people with positive energies but sometimes he is surrounded by users and abusers. They come to him for a free can of pop or some mini Hershey's and I have to admit that when he has offered them to me I have taken a couple but as he has said I am good to him when I order food. I always offer him something from my order. Today I let him have some of the pizza that came with my Cesar salad and veggie sub.
He always seems to have buddies who really only want his handouts of money food or smokes.
Well it's been a Saturday of having nothing to do with anyone. Kept the room dark and silent and fell asleep twice in my chair.
His laugh goes through me like a knife through flesh. He has that kind if laugh from the movies that happens just before the big scene where it’s the long and drawn out murder that happens after the rape or sometimes almost consensual sex scene. Dennis hopper perfected the laugh in a number of his films. I never thought I would be this close to a real live dude with that laugh. That god damn laugh.
Days like this get chalked up to completely worthless days in the sum total of the scheme of things. These days will never show back up in the book of life that highlights those days of accomplishments no matter how big. No matter how small. I think you will find you get a higher score the more days you have like this Saturday.
Sunday morning and ready to go. Hell it's seven a. m. And I've been ready since five. I got my instant real coffee, Nescafé and my dingy more beef stew for breakfast. That's right fuckers I ain't eating those damn eggs that smell like ass served with the chunks of meat that resemble dog shit from a large dog.
It's real coffee and beef stew for me.
They have a poker game going on right now. The one guy probably had something like knee surgery. He's large and walks with difficulty. I'm betting he was once a real card player. Next we have the gamer woman who is usually playing slots online. She is enormous. He ass is the kind that is round flabby and sticks out and I mean really sticks out. She is generally annoying. Next we have the old woman that wears men's clothes and always has a ball cap on because she is bald. She is always twisted to her left side and mumbles which means I have never understood anything she says. Last we have the cynic who continues to say, "I'm growing so weary... Shit!"
The world around ‘me is a world of noises and smells. Sometimes the only noise I hear is the swoosh swoosh of my gloves against the wheels of my wheelchair and the only smell sometimes is the breathing sigh if death. A putrid foul scent that for some unknown reason has a drawing to it as if there is something pleasing about this horrible smell.
The card game wasn't going well. Ruby was convinced that big John was cheating and big John took quite an offense to that. Ruby just laid her head down and refused to play the next two hands. Jack the cynic was still reciting poetry to his weariness but now the hallways were privileged to his lament. He was wheeling to his room. The card game was too much distraction for cynic jack who needed a good portion of the audience for his lament of life and well ruby was sulking, big John was being a real horse’s ass and Ellen was speaking in conversations of avoidance and gentle make it ok. I'm bored. Off I go.
Fragile
A fragile creature was sitting in a robe in a wheel chair in the middle of the isle squirming as a beep beep beep kept going off and the nurses were calling off numbers which sounded like blood pressure numbers which I remember having. 203/90, 220/109.
What I remember most was that nurses who are not trained to deal with a crisis situation do not know how to deal with those situations which is what was going on right now. The nurses and aids were all freaking out and not hiding it well.
The aids here are trained to keep us clean and to make sure we get our food trays. The nurses are trained to administer meds and take care of boo boos. Nobody is trained for some poor soul in the middle if the isle headed for a heart attack or worse the high BP is destroying other parts of the body.
The days the writing stopped.
Computer.power.chord.quits.working.phone.is.recharged.by.computer.phone.dead.
I finally realized that there were computers here that were new enough to take my cable for the phone charger. The computer is dead right now.
These are those times when I feel the most helpless. Something as simple as running to a store that sells computers and accessories and pick up a god damn power chord. Now I have to get my brother to bring one from Lima whenever he decides to come and see me or have my daughter go and buy one which she hates to do. Go and buy something that continues my addiction.
She looks like at one time in her life she was a lady that took great pride in her looks and what she wore. Now when she speaks everything come forth as if she is crying the words. It such a strange thing to see her talking to an aide or nurse in a normal conversation and she sounds like she is sobbing the words. Whenever she sees me she stares at me with contempt and never speaks a word to me.
I used to have these people that I would talk to every day on my iPhone. One of these people would even say I love you to me. Come to find out it wasn't true.
As time continued on its journey more and more stopped talking to me be it the phone or other social network.
What I had to take notice though was that there were also those on some of the social networks that never completely went away. Those who stopped texting, those who always professed their love and care and concern shouldn't they have kept up the vigils? I mean I'm the one who is sick here.
They just brought a tray in with some kind of meat that is unrecognizable and eggs that smell like ass. It's making me sick.
When my roommate drinks he swallows really hard over and over. It's the most horrible sound in the world.
Everything is making me sick.
What am I supposed to think of those dedicated individuals that just stopped being a part of...? Was it all a lie?
My roommate and I talked today and it did nothing but make me want to roll off to a dark corner and sob.
My roommate is schizophrenic which explains the whispering to himself which is why he makes me nervous but spending some time talking to him made it clear why he was here and has been for going on five years. Most of it was not the physical issues but more the mental health realities. There are a whole hell of a lot of us who are here with physical issues but also mental health issues that are not being treated. The reason for this is simple. Insurance decides it all.
Insurance decides if you get a private room or if you get to hang out with a spinal injury schizophrenic. Insurance decides if you get to go someplace to deal with your mental health issues or if you get dropped into a nursing home nestled in suburbia where all the crazies go and there isn't a qualified therapist. Not only is it a place full of goofballs but the neighborhood hangs our here also.
I met the head doctor yesterday. I told one of the nurses that I was feeling depressed and wanted to speak to someone. This man that I have never met walked up to me and ask, "So are you sleeping, eating?" I said "no, who are you?" He said "I'm the psychiatrist. We'll notch up you meds and that should take care of it." And off he went. That was the sum total of my session with someone about my feelings of depression.
It's simple. This is a criminal act done to so many of us but not enough of us to get any real action. It will take an uprising by the clients here but remember, we are nut cases so getting us to organize is pretty much nil and void.
cool peace
hippie mike
love
spirit
groovy...