Moving On

2/25/08

So there. It's said. I'm not going back to the apartment that I've loved so much. Or to my Hooligans. My books will probably be in storage for quite awhile until I'm able to live on my own again. Life is going to be different and I don't know how or when. But I suspect it will be an adventure. New things to discover. Being able to take a walk without worrying that I might fall on the ice. Days of sunshine and bright skies.

I really do love California. It's just different than Alaska. But, cheerful Charlie that I am, I'll focus on the produce and the closeness of family and the sunshine. The closeness of friends.

So Sunday night I almost picked a fight with my new night nurse over the blood pressure cuff. When I got here, one nurse was able to take my blood pressure with one cuff in a new position. That the reason my arm has hurt so much was that I am short between the shoulder and elbow and the broader cuffs are also too long. So, for a week I've been having relatively pain free blood pressure tests. Then tonight, Kittie decided that she doesn't buy into that theory and she is going to do it her way.

Part of me recognizes that she is wanting to take care of my health. Part of me feels the standard dismissal of a woman's report of her own body that medical science throws at us. Should I be fighting for my own reality? Allowing her to take care of me?

Is it worth a major battle? Is it part of an ongoing pattern that just feels like, "If you're going to be that fat, you can just suffer the pain, and that'll teach you!"

Too much time on my hands, not enough intellectual grist to chew on! (J's note - I know mom wishes she could go on the internet right now...)

I wake in the morning and there is a white board at my feet. It tells me the day and date, where to find Julie, and the name of the nurse today. Kitty is taking readings and telling me all is getting better. I'm used to being checked on in the mornings by a cat who is concerned by my health. This is a very nice Kitty. A good way to start my day. "You," Kitty tells me, "should write all this down."

"I am," I tell her. A woman can be forgiven for the blood pressure cuff if she recognizes talent when she sees it.

The nurses and doctors have the recliner thing to wrestle with every day. (J's note - there is a recliner in the room, and a nurse early on showed Richard how to work it. It's not intuitive, and I have since given training to two other nurses on how it works. It's stupid that they haven't been shown, because, as I said, it's not intuitive, which a recliner certainly SHOULD be.) It shouldn't be that hard to open. It makes me mad how hard that is for them to do. Why hasn't anyone taught the staff of this hospital how to open the chair without injuring themselves? Why isn't the chair designed better? It shouldn't be that people who are trying to help you are being hurt!