No weekends here

Day 18 - A separate encounter with his Royal Polishness

2009-06-09T12:28:00.004-04:00

Today my shift was cancelled but I knew that I would get called in late or just before my shift was supposed to start. I had the chance to particicpate in some other 'endeavors' however I did not because I was waiting for the call. (note to self, ask my sister what these endeavors were, was it pot related as I suspect or was she part of a white slave ring???).

The patient is a man who is very tall and solid. APparently he was trying to get out of bed, but he hasnt even moved since ive been here. Today, at some point, he pulled out his IV, i dont even have to worry about that at hte moment. I'm not sure if he had a stroke or if he has alzheimers. he cannot speak very well but seems to understand simple sentences. He has this big rash all over his body that the nurse had to put cream on. It looks a bit like dermititis.

Today my farts are really stinky and its making me laugh inside because i know each time the nurse walks in it probably reeks and she wont say a word as she probably thinks its the patient. Surprise! His diaper is clean!

The man laying in bed next to my patientis is either Polish or Russian. He has a wicked accent, some nice thick brown glasses and likes to talk about 'woman power'. I think he thinks the nurses are all crazy because they moved him from a 4 person room to a 2 person room. He doesnt think there is enough oxygen per space in a 2 person room. The reason hes been put in here is because he likes to wander the halls. This isnt generally an issue with most patients however most patients dont usually hassle other patients. Especially other sleeping patients. Apparently he is an architect (im thinking in the vein of Art Vandaley) who helped build this nice circle building at M St. V University.

I did manage to get a juicy bit of gossip from the old crank. A lady that was visiting him talked about an old professor that would do sexual favors for the school priest. The woman said she would see the priest pick up the Prof and would drive away together. Apparently the prof would also 'babysit' the priests dogs, whatever the fuck that means.

Several hours later-

It would seem that my patient keeps trying to get out of bed. I just let him try for about over 1 hr until he wore himself out. But it would seem that he still has some energy left in him, which is unfortunate as its about 5 am and i want to resume farting and reading. I wont lie when i say that this technique usually works.

He is a large man about 6'3 and 325lbs. Fuck I want to yell at him and tell him to lay the fuck down. This doesnt normally bother me but how is it that these people cant usually sleep? They arent being paid 7.25/hr, why are they satying up?
They have a bed with nice sheets!!!

Im still loving this polish guy, especially as i cant understand a word he is saying but it is awesome as all hell. Hes always going on about architecture and how it sucks at the hospital then laughing. He keeps saying "I dont want to criticize", then quit talkin guy! Nah, yer cool.

Oh you girls (or padded cells arent for everyone)

2009-04-15T10:08:00.004-04:00

Today was supposed to be a suicide watch (not in the sense that i was going to watch someone commit suicide but in the sense that i was going to prevent them from doing so. Spose thats obvious, isnt it?), but the patient cancelled.

Although i was initially slightly nervous because i didnt want the girl to take advantage of me being naive, i was still very interested to see who this girl was and how she was going to act. Although i didnt get to see her i did get a good look around at the psych ward.

Now i am aware that we have made significant steps from the former asylum days, there are still situations and scenes that are shocking as all fuck.

The first of which was a man who was locked in a room and had nothing but a mattress and a window with which the nurses could look in (or he could look out of). It was literally a padded cell.

To be honest its one of those things you always imagine or see in movies but its still a shocker to see. Shit seems so brutal and unreasonable. Cant we just treat that mans insanity with a hug?

Well, needless to say the padded cell was getting alot of use by one gentleman who spent the majority (or what seemed to be the majority) of his time smashing something into the wall. The nurse then came over and tried to get him to lie on the mattress. Needless to say she wasnt stupid enough to open the door and ask him but she wrote it down on a piece of paper and placed it in the window while knocking on the door, so that he could hear and understand. Ya gotta wonder if that technique actually works. Even if he does lie on the mattress how do you know that he wont try and make a break for it or start smashing you against the wall (which is padded but im certain it would hurt none the less). Talk about a life of danger.

I was then sent to the seventh floor which is the cardiac surgery ward. Like any floor that has patients in semi stable/unstable conditions the nurses are total dolls. They call every patient love and are gentle as all hell with them.

The man i had had particularly cold hands and i wonder whether its a blood circulation thing. Im supposed to get an oxygen level from him on a regular basis. This has been particularly hard. I mentioned this too the nurse who told me not to worry about it. Needless to say it became a little problem for me later as my patient had to pee and the nurse motioned for me to put it on his dick.

I wasnt sure if she was serious i do know however that im not touching up some old man so i left it to her. She then offered to put the catheter in. The other nurse was loving it and laughing her ass off. The first nurse (we will now refer to her as the dick master, youll see why soon enough) continued to tell me about they recently had a stagette party for one of their fellow nurses. They had got this gorgeous black stripper who riled all the girls up. Later on in the cab home the dick master asked the bride to be whether she had a dildo handy for when she got home. Her friend told her no as she had hoped to use the dick masters. Gotta love these girls.

Oh yeah, the dick master was inserting the catheter throughout the story. It looked like the most painful fucking thing ive ever seen and i dont have a penis. Everything had to be sterile to prevent a urinary tract infection. You can only imagine how fucking foul and painful one of those could be. Thankfully they are supposed to be rare. The tube is inserted into his bird was prob about 30 cm long and i twas slightly difficult to get in which means he had problems with his prostrate. Theres also a bottle next to the bed which has 500ml at least of blood draining into it. Dont worry this is from a tube in his chest which he doesnt seem to notice much. Which is a bit surprising as id sure as fuck notice if a tube carrying blood came from my chest.

All of the patients in this ward that are fresh from surgery have these red pillows they are supposed to hold to their chest when they cough, from what i understand its so that they dont rip their incisions. Gross. Apparently there is a correlation (although no formal documentation) between diabetes* and heart problems. All of the patients in the room seem to be approximately the same age, 65-70, none of them are overwhelmingly overweight and 1 out of 4 used to smoke.
Fun facts!

I guess the highlight of the shift was when i got paid 7.25 to file my nails for 45 mins.

Living.
The.
Dream.

*so many other amazing videos involving that clip that i had to share em, that was the one that gave the most lulz tho. Here, here and here.

A slippery predicament

2009-04-08T09:20:00.006-04:00

Forward:
I was about to announce a hiatus from this blog as I have recently been copying notes and stories from my sisters journals of when she too was working as a candy striper back in the summer of 2003. Her notes are great but I have to admit that it can be a bit difficult to find the inspiration to meld a good yarn out of it as they are all her notes and memories.

I more or less was gonna focus more on my smut which sadly has also stalled but not nearly as much as this blog.

However, whilst reading through my sisters notes i found one particular story that was of great amusement to all of us at the time (for the actual time line of these posts read the intro/first post for details). As a result I will definitely post this bit and perhaps inspiration will ensue.

-CeePee

Day 12-
I've worked in the rehab hospital today with a woman who was about 45. She has 2 children (a son and a daughter). The first thing she said to me when i entered her room was "Hi, youre wearing something scented"*. I asked her if it bugged her and she said yes and asked what it was. I said it must be my 'do. She later again asked what it was. Obviously at this point i got a bit suspicious.

It turns out that 2 years ago she had a stroke, heart failure and a double by pass. Ouch.
Im not sure if she as altogether normal before that but now, as a result of all that shit, she has a fetish for Vaseline. Im not fucking kidding.

When i tell people this story (or my brother or his gf, who has also taken care of her) the never initially believe it and fair enough, it comes off like like one of those people on Maury that are scared of pickles or mustard or whatever.
Just seems like horseshit.
My brother always tells me about how he used to threaten a friend of his who was supposedly scared of fruit (i mean cmon guy) by saying he was going to hide oranges and bananas under his pillow. Yeah youre screaming but do you really mean it? Well this lady is totally fucking obsessed, in the nastiest way, with vaseline. And drinking water.

Mind you, its nothing sexual*1. She just needs to apply it to her lips.
For about 15 minutes. Usually before she smokes. Which she does constantly.
Also in her nose. She likes to take a cue tip and put a huge gob in there which she then sniffs.

She also likes to use eye drops really frequently.

Id also like to state that her sense of fashion seems to have taken a hit as well. Granted this is the east coast of Canada which is not renowned for being a hub for the avant garde fashion scene so we cant necessarily attribute this to her unfortunate circumstances. She likes to wear two pairs of pants (joggers, or sweatpants for you laymen) in which she likes to tuck her sweater and her jacket into. Oh yeah, she also wears an ascot.

I was instructed as we went out for her to have a cigarette to assemble a lawnchair and an umbrella as it was going to storm outside. It was sunny and the middle of June.

When she smokes, she lights up the cigarette everytime she inhales, much like a crackhead. She smokes about 2 cigarettes every 15 minutes then we go upstairs where she will claim that she has to vomit and goes through the whole vaseline/eyedrop process again.

She is also quite opinionated which although particularly cold of me, always seemed to be amusing for a person under such duress and in such a situation to be nit picky.
She likes The Pressgang and redwine BUT not in excessive amounts. Ah her conservatism still shines through. She loves chocolate but claims not to be a chocoholic. She hates people who drink and drive (not sure how this came up or what the connection was, outside of the 'olic') and openly tells people who are overweight that they need to join weightwatchers. She also thinks her son is gay, hes about 16, not that theres anything wrong with that. She hates the nurses and doesnt really like men unless they are particularly good looking. She loves crosswords. Oddly enough I suspect she'd be really good on jeopardy. She is from Montreal but loves the US of A and thinks that people from Nova Scotia are snobby. Not sure how that came about, people havent got enough money to be snobby here. She also knows which elevators are 'the quickets' and has amazing greeny/blue eyes.

I did feel terrible for her as she told me her son has only been to visit twice in 18 months. To be honest I cant blame him. Who would want to see their mother like this? Shes still young but nowhere near what you want/need/wish your mother would be. Its gotta be crushing for the family, let alone the children. I hope to god the kids have a decent father, shes never mentioned anyone and you get the idea that he might be out of the scene or they just dont get on. She continued to talk about menopause and how she had alot of blood loss and cramps. Makes me scared to grow older as a woman.
I think i could see where she had a piece of her brain removed as there seems to be a slight groove in her skull/head on her right side.

I definitely want to work with her again, Sweet Sweet D.

*Side note: For the record we were to never wear anything scented like deodorant or perfume etc which makes sense cuz what kind of sick fuck gets dolled up to work around sick and dying people? What you wanna remind them of what they are missing? Youre just twisted.

*1 Apparently This statement was debateable as i later talked to my brothers girlfriend who told me that she had spoken to some other candy striper and apparently the lady liked to put it on her vag as well. Apparently this happened everytime she went to the bathroom. A fucking mess. A nasty fucking mess.

Sore vag in the vg

2009-03-31T10:36:00.004-04:00

Day 5:
At VG again. Saw lots of rotten poop. Not sure what the operation was on. She was fully responsive and could get out of bed without aid. Reason im here is to make sure she gets help getting out of bed, go figure. Im in the palliative care unit. She didnt mind telling me her vag was sore as a result i suspect it may have been the same body part that was operated on. I think she may have had cancer. Gotta love the old school. Shes refusing to admit to pain.

Remember how i said she was fully responsive? Well that doesnt necessarily cover her brain apparently. Poor thing was confused about who I was and insisted on talking about her will. Kinda tempting to get her to write my name in there. I gotta say that one does tend to fantasize about their patients outside of the hospital environment. Shes a cute old doll but no different than any old biddie you might see at the grocery store. Her house however (as i imagine) is a giant victorian that sits on the harbor (prob have to be in Dartmouth if thats the case, unless its on Southpark somewhere) with a beautiful garden (obviously including an old green house overflowing with lilacs etc). Im sure its stuffed full of crap collected over the years sitting under 2 inchs of dust because she only really used 3 rooms in that place. No, make it 4, she has to go to the bathroom. Of course the rest of her family is dead or has forgotten her. Thats what makes our bond that much more severe. Im the only one that cares for her and has cared for her in a long while. This is why she will leave it all to me so I never have to work again at the age of 20.

Oops, not quite. Shift ended just like the rest, smelling like hospital, hand cleanser and old people. Time to go home to sleep until the birds start chirping and the heat sets in. So for about 4 hours.

Deaths doorstep

2009-02-24T09:43:00.002-05:00

Day 10
Today I was sent to the Veterans Hospital. The man I am taking care of is in his final stages of Parkinson's disease and on top of that hes got pneumonia.

Talk about shitty luck.

i was asked by one of the nurses if I'd ever been with anyone who'd died. I said no and she told me it may happen. If I feel him slipping away, I am to walk up to a nurse and quietly inform them. She asked if I was nervous and I said yes. She told me I had nothing to worry about, it is actually a release to know I was holding his hand throughout the last few minutes of his life. I was to call the nurse if I saw any shortness of breath or gurgling. If the gurgling was not solved, he could drown.

It was a wonder that they didnt let him 'drown' as drowning is supposed to be one of the most peaceful deaths. Although the body struggles at first, the body eventually gives up and falls into a type of sleep. Id love to go out in my sleep as opposed to bewilderment and pain.

The nurses here are the nicest, right away they were incredibly comforting, the showed me around, offering me food and drink, telling me to not be afraid to take a break. You have to wonder what kind of comfort they are given. Day in and day out they are surrounded by the dying and the dead. They have to channel and direct all their energies to these people and deny themselves. Do they go home feeling empty or fulfilled? Is it just another day at work?

The room my patient is in looks like home, its extremely comforting for him. He has uncontrolled moments and he can hear well but cannot speak.

Parkinsons:
-The body decreases in dopamine which means acytyl choline takes over causing symptoms
-Dietary habits can affect treatment, its more a chemical inbalance rather than a brain deterioration (doesnt affect mental capacity)

Alzheimer's:
-below normal levels of acetylcholine and altered levels of neurotransmitters, somatostatin and norepinephrine
-There are higher deposits of aluminum in cerebral tissue (why people think aerosol and deodorant contributes to alzheimers), high numbers of antibodies have been found in etiology (inherited chromosome)

Lil Eyetie lady (or sugery sweet nights)

2009-02-10T10:16:00.003-05:00

Day 4
Today im in VG-5A taking care of a cute as hell little woman from an Italian family.
Shes about 4 foot nothing. Im not a big girl but shes a midget next to me. Its not even like shes at that age where they start to shrink. Well, ok, thats not true. Regardless shes short.

The Family was here when I showed up, they seem to be pretty incredible. Living stereotypes if you will. Definitely the stereotypes you want to see in people, you know the kind you see on those shitty romantic comedies where the family is kooky but loving. They really remind me of my Nana and Grandpa. The Husband seemed to be extremely concerned, he didnt want to leave but was showing it in an indirect manner.

He was going to stay all night, they had said something to the nurse about her being all fidgety so they called me in. I explained to them what it is that I do and they were visibly happy. I explained to her what I did and who I was and she said that I was 'perfect'. Sigh. What a sweetie.

We spent a majority of the night talking about books and brothers and sisters. She woke up at one point really wanting to leave. Sadly this entailed a tugging of the catheter, its purpose, she didnt understand. She kept saying that she had to go pee. I told her to go but she insisted that she had to use the toilet. Eventually she calmed down, went to sleep and I suspect 'released'

The nurses this shift were pretty sweet too. They were kind enough to get me a lamp and a flannel sheet for my chair. We discussed the book I am reading (cant remember what it was, feel like a retard for not having written down these details).

Did make my first few steps to becoming a doctor (just kidding) as the nurse instructed me to press the reset button when the IV machine beeps. Thats not to mention the fact that the Doctors asked me my opinion (highly vaunted, ill have you know) as to how our sweet lady was doing.

JC: The Origins

2009-01-31T07:30:00.005-05:00

Went from taking care of 2 patients to only one. He was restless at first but has eventually fallen asleep. He had a severe stroke. I would like to say its effected his speech to the point that I cant understand him however Im certain that if he hadnt had a stroke I still wouldnt have understood him.

He seems to have an accent of eastern european origins. From what the nurse told me he was particularly dirty when he first came in. She described his nails as being like 'knives'. Also apparently the night before he pulled out his catheter which sprayed everywhere. Glad I missed out on that one.

My brother has come to visit and has seemed to take a liking to this gentleman. Having heard his last name he asked "Oh, are you from the Czech republic?". The patient scoffed "NO! Why did you think that?" in a disgusted manner. My brother sputtered "Theres a midfielder on the national team with the same name, I just thought..."

It would seem the old boy was an architect at one point that had designed one of our fair cities universities. Ironically it was a womans university. Whats ironic about that little tidbit is the fact that he quite sexist. Mostly hes a helpless filthy (as in laden in dirt) man who likes to lash out at woman who laugh at him only furthering his rage. Surprisingly I have escaped this. Not sure if its my youth that scares him or the fact that im simply pleasant to him. Regardless, hes not tugging on his catheter so im pretty content with that alone.

Later that evening after he fell asleep i overheard one nurse talk to another about how she had been sitting at her desk late at night when she saw someone walk past the desk from the corner of her eye. She quickly turned her head but noone was there. Not two seconds later did another nurse rush over to the desk to report that a patient in a room not far away had died. Perhaps shes been dipping into the dilaudid?

Holy Holy

2009-01-31T03:22:00.005-05:00

My patient today was transferred from the infirmary to VG. I arrived slightly late (about 20 mins, terrible, I know) so the guy previous to me had already left. Much to my delight I had a Nun. Its always nice to get someone completely out of the ordinary. Mostly it allows one to compile a list of questions that will help pass the 12 hours (or 11 hours and 55 minutes in this case). More often than not these questions go relatively unheard but the activity of compiling + the task of asking generally is quite amusing and worthwhile.

Like the majority of older people she was suffering from some sort of dementia. She really was a small bundle of joy. Guessing her age, one would have to say in her mid to late 80s and smelt of lilacs. She was unbelievably elated when I told her we were going to have a sleep over. It makes you wonder if she had sleep overs back in the day as I really didnt think they were common for our grandparents generation. Most likely she came from a large east coast catholic family (send one to the army, one to the church and one to civil services or something like that).

Its always mindboggling that these people that basically lived subsistence lives would bang out 9 or 10 kids. Its always suggested that it allows for parents to have help in the fields etc but to be frank I suspect is a result of a) a lack of heat, b) a lack of condoms and c) a lack of tv.

I really imagine trying it on in a dark coal shed like house packed with 7 kids, pregnant with another. Then again I have been spoiled with the benefits of modern technology.

We passed a great deal of time in silence, holding hands, with her whispering to me "Godbless".

Definitely one of those shifts that makes you contemplate going back to church but the fact of the matter is you can live your life without the religious structure doing the same amount of good. Abide by the golden rule (or whatever its called elsewhere) and youre generally ok. It does also make you wonder how the church provides for their own flock if im coming in to do something their own people could do. Was this a particularly short term situation? Do they even have retirement homes for clergy? Do Clergy even retire?

Day 1

2009-01-23T08:37:00.002-05:00

Almost lost keys in the psych ward. They would have had to get all new locks.
Me=Fired.
I called into Johanna and tell her about my bloody scare. Perhaps its a good idea to let the nurses know that it might not be such a good idea to give us attendents such important objects.

Psych ward is a complicated place. Its both uplifting (knowing first and foremost my feet are planted on the ground and i believe im completely sane) and depressing (these poor bastards).

Alot of todays shift went off like an afterschool special. The first nurse i talked to introduced herself by telling me about a kid who lost touch with reality because he smoked so much pot. Then proceeded to tell me about a guy who did a hit of e and went crazy. Good stuff. Thanks Nancy Regan. You really know how to speak to the youts.

Theres always jokes about the extremities of mental illness of any sorts. Jokes about dudes that wear tinfoil hats or believe the walls are talking to them. The boggles and reels when you are finally introduced to these same people. It breaks your heart knowing very well these people believe in earnest that what they tell you is their reality. The patient i had was quite sedate as she had a form of organic alzheimers. Apparently she had no understand of my presence. I wonder how far that extends. Does she only acknowledge certain people? How does one get her to acknowledge you? How long does this acknowledgement last? I failed to find the difference between organic alzheimers and regular alzheimers, so im no more knowledgeable than before outside of the first hand experience.

Through out the night i was introduced to a host of characters. The majority in their middle age. I did meet several boys in my own age. One of which told the nurse, heartbreakingly, that 'he just wanted to talk to me', another who talked to the magnets in his hands. The most crippling thought to me about these people is that they will never know the joys of carrying on with a regular life. They will never know a 9-5 existence filled with an 8 hour workday, children needing food then school then food then attention then sleep. They will never be able to focus on loving another person because they are too trapped in their own lost little world. More often than not these worlds are filled with fear and panic. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Nonstop.

Codes: A second beginning

2009-01-23T08:25:00.003-05:00

DNR= Do not resuscitate = No Code
Full Code = Do everything
MRSA- Virus cant get rid of. Complications.
C-Diff - Jelly Explosive shit w/ sour smell

-Dont write name of person on any sheets
-Get name of the nurse
-I should know all the info from nurse within first hr. of my arrival, anything out of the ordinary happens call work
-always assume injury? Missing articles?

Upon Arrival
1- Go to security
2- Show ID badge + SIgn in.
If @ rehab, sign in @vg, @vg they'll give you another card which GOTTA GO BACK @ VG!

Suicide Watch

2009-01-04T03:32:00.004-05:00

Just realized that the one thing i promised along time ago and never posted was the shift i spent watching a gentleman on suicide watch. I was thinking about how I never wrote down the actual shift as I usually do and it didnt take long to realize that although this gentleman was in complete mental anguish, he was the most 'sensible' and lucid of all the patients I had had.

More often then not these patients would live a sort of fantasy existence only in the sense that no matter where they were in their own minds, here on planet earth they would be physically looked after. In the case of this gentleman, he had most everything a person could ask for, with exception to clinical depression and suicidal tendencies.

He was a doctor who looked to be in his mid to late 30s who had confessed that he had a wife and a small baby (who had been just born). The poor gentlemans situation was a travesty. Not to downplay the others but rarely did they recognize their own situations where as in the case of the doctor, he knew exactly what the problem was and as a result it would often perpetuate itself. He would feel bad for feeling bad. You dig?

He had worked in the Emergency room for the last few years and that had added to the strain. It was difficult to ask him questions only in the fact that I felt so fucking bad for him and didnt want to set off any incidents in which he would harm himself or dwell on something that I had said then injuring himself. Not that it was expected that he'd try and do himself in front of me but that you didnt want to leave any lingering thoughts (something which we have no power and no control over when it comes to interacting with people such as this).

He was quite open and honest, possibly even cheerful (with an overpowering sense of melancholy, hows that possible right? it is easy up narc). We talked about all manners, nothing at this moment strikes me in particular outside of his family and work life. Granted i didnt prod and asked the usual sorts of questions you would ask any stranger you were spending a large amount of time with.

When we were instructed about taking care of patients on suicide watch we are told to keep any objects that might harm them (like razors, scissors etc) from their reach, we may never let them leave our line of sight (ie if they go to the bathroom, its with the door open). Some of these guide lines were particularly difficult to abide by because he was so lucid and normal. I did for instance allow him to go to the bathroom with the door left only slightly ajar, however i couldnt help but notice the plastic shave razor by his sink and kept thinking about me having to frantically call security or whoever to come to his room because he had attempted to slit his wrists. That never happened thank god. He did try to jump from his window on the 4th or 5th floor tho several days later.

Apologies/The Aged Flesh

2009-01-04T02:52:00.006-05:00

for not writing in so long. Few readers know im now located in South Korea for the next year. Ill be doing some writing, possibly posting it in another blog or something on a future date. Im just about finished my book with all my own experiences in the hospitals however as mentioned previously my sister gave me hers, so i will continue to write drawing from her experiences. I do intend on continuing to write in my smut blog as well however I have to wait for a conversion plug (they use the european/asian two prong plugs here AND they dont have the conversion ones we can find at fucking radioshack here so ive been forced to use a coworkers who lends it to me from time to time as she needs it for her hairdryer. I expect to be back up and running in the next week or so. Also Korean girls show alot of leg. I like it. Ive developed a new fetish as a result. That should give me ample fodder for smut). Back to the topic at hand, hospitals.

The aged flesh is a tender and brittle thing.
Unfortunately today I had to witness a patient be told that his leg was going to be amputated. He then started crying and mumbling something. The doctor asked him to repeat himself and he said "I wish I was dead". Its an obvious fact of life that the human body begins to deteriorate. For instance as we age the skin becomes increasing translucent and brittle. It goes from young, firm and supple to dry, cracked and limited. Of course there is always the potential with debilitating and weakening diseases like aids that delay and/or deny the body of its regenerative capabilities (such as lesions that do not heal). But for the most part it is a process that approaches us in the autumn and winters of our lives.

It makes me wonder if taking care of oneself merely delays the inevitable, deludes us into the belief of relative immortality/invincibility through vanity. There was alot of y's used in that last sentence.

I have stared death in the face, hes falling apart piece by piece.

The other death I saw wears a canadian flag bandana and a mesh wife beater. He also has a goatee and a ponytail.

Smut

2008-12-05T23:42:00.002-05:00

So for a long time now ive been writing smut.
As a result ive decided to create a smut blog as well.
Here it is.
Named it after that Lil Louis Vega song.

SeeqPod - Playable Search

In the Grandeur scheme of things

2008-11-28T00:51:00.002-05:00

As per usual im waiting in the solarium for the family to let me know that i can return to the patients room. Todays events revolve more around the waiting room then they do my assigned patient. For the second day in a row i have been in conversation with an older fellow who loves to talk and particularly tell me stories.

I come from a long line of 'yarnspinners' so its far from unusual for me to be listening to a story that is laced with 'myths'. Initially i believe the majority of this mans stories were true. However there was increasing doubt as these stories contained more and more celebrities of yore. Dropping names such as W.A. Winfield (owned Bell?) and Mrs Oland (a beer magnate).

The stories vary from his rumrunning parents and him poaching lobsters with the local prison boss to having a personal phone line installed across an entire city for him alone.

There are several possibilities as to why this is happening as far as im concerned.

1) All old nova scotia men love to lie

This is a distinct possibility, however there are great details in the stories and the answers to any questions are given in a matter of fact/logical manner.
This leads me to believe

2)He is suffering from dementia or delusions of grandeur.

The former is doubtful as i have already been in the company of confused people and usually the signs are pretty obvious. As for the latter, i have to admit i didnt even know it was a real disease for the longest time. When i did find out it was through parents who confessed to me that their son was suffering from it after I had made a joke about it.

Having spoken with this man a third time i have come to the conclusion that he is a pathological liar. All these stories are fucking insane. The casts vary from gangsters to astronauts, as do the situations whether they involve legal loopholes or simple business transactions.

I feel like a moron for not having spotted it sooner.

Why was he feeding his brothers and sisters if his parents were rumrunners?
Like he really had personal correspondance with Trudeau!!!!

A face for radio

2008-11-28T00:39:00.006-05:00

An Ex girlfriend (or girlfriend at the time) would play a game where she would act semiretarded and allow for her legs to give out so that I would have to rush to keep her from falling flat on her face.

My patient tonight had similar traits, except she was a bit more frantic, much like a meth junkie.

She kissed me several times, the patient that is, on the forehead calling me 'Dad' when i tucked her in. She is a young mother of a 12 year old who was in a head on collision with an 18 wheeler. After she fell asleep (thankfully!) I helped grade people on "Hot or Not" with the Nurses. It seemed that noone deserved more than a 3.

And now, a small excerpt from our discussion:

Nurse 1: Shes got big breasts! (pointing at the screen)

Me: I dont care how big her breasts are with a face like that (oh how times have changed)

Nurse 2 (with a thick newfie accent): Just put a bag over her head...

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Amputations galore

2008-11-12T00:43:00.008-05:00

Id like to apologize for not posting in about a month.
Ive been busy with other things (like living, eating, masturbating).
This is not to mention that my notebook and its notes are coming to an end.
I still have my sisters but im not entirely sure (having not looked at it) whether i am capable of transcribing her notes into a story. It may be worth an attempt.
Im also tempted to start posting smut.
Im not kidding.
I just found some pages of a short story (or what looks to be a penthouse forum letter) i wrote a while back for another blog i never told anyone about. For good reasons. Regardless. Ill see what happens once this blog finishes and where my headspace is at.

Well, i saw my first amputation today.

I should specify that i didnt actually see it performed.

What i saw was the base of the leg with no foot on one leg and a foot with no toes on the other.

These two limbs had staples to heal them from getting infected. That shit never ceases to look medieval or like something out of 'The Great Big Civil War Book of Surgery".

Youd think this day in age we'd have finesse when sowing up these people.
No. Apparently a fucking staple gun will do.

Does this mean any idiot with a staple gun can be a doctor?
No. You need one of those masks as well.

Having indured such a painful surgery she was high as David Lee Roth on a saturday night in 1982 when i was first introduced to her. Initially, She seemed ok, however after her nap things went a little pear shaped.

She kept insisting that people "play through".

This of course was while she kept trying to put on pants (she had on a catheter) and 'finishing the tournament'. The lovely dear asked several times that someone could pick up her ball, which was located in her calender across from her bed. Damn what a sportsman. Lets see that Tiger Woods try something like that. Ffft. What a pussy.

I should say that in hindsight, i initially had no clue what sport the patient was talking about at the time. However, now that im older and wiser, i can safely say she was playing golf. Not water polo as some would have you believe.

Not terribly demanding/Forget me not

2008-10-15T22:49:00.004-04:00

My guy has slept all day.
He spent 4 hours in dialysis, which by the way, is a fucking frightening process to watch. The mere fact that pints of blood are being exchanged from the human to the machine and viceversa. Im not afraid of blood, i am however afraid of people and their stupid/irratic behavior. All it would take is for someone to pull out a tube, just one tube and dude is fucked. It doesnt help that this guy is prone to such behavior.

The day before he threw a chair through a window and spent the rest of the day tied down like a lunatic in arkham asylum.

When we returned his wife spent the entire afternoon with him so i watched tv down the hall with a group of older ladies. Not a terribly stressful day.

Things did get a bit interesting when he spent the last 2 hours of my shift wandering back and forth in his room. Once in a while he would run for the door and i would have to stand in front of it to prevent him from leaving. That part was amusing.

Since that shift was particularly uneventful i will add this second shift that occured most likely that same week.

Have a guy with Alzheimers today. Its sad as fuck. He has the same look in his eyes as my dog had in the last few hours before we had him put down. Sorta like hes lost and sad but has no clue as to why. Dude cant be any older than 57. His wife was a sweetheart. I feel horrible for her as she has to watch the man she loves decay into a vegetable like state. I can only imagine how the children feel, if they have any. They seem young enough that they would have been in and around my age if they existed. Cant imagine what itd be like to see your father, a man usually held in high regard, the breadwinner, man of the house hold become a babbling, diaper wearing, blank slate. There is nothing you can do about it. Nothing. Worse yet, you may fall prey to this and your children and possibly their children will have to endure the same.

He spent most of the day mumbling in a low voice nonsensically. Every once in a while i felt compelled to give him a hug or pat him on the back just to let him know that there was some sort of human contact there for him. We spent a period of time waiting outside a doctors office. I kept my head on his shoulder. I had to redirect his hands away from his catheter as he kept wanting to touch it. Dunno if it helped but it felt necessary to talk to him like he was still a functioning human being.

PS
I had a 15 minute conversation with a nurse who gave me her tips on how she beats constipation.
Gross.

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Poop and prejudice

2008-10-10T00:53:00.008-04:00

Im back in with Mr Eddy again today.
Although yesterdays shift was predominantly uneventful i did managed to squeeze in one of the most nastiest things ive ever seen. Pun intended.

This particular incident involved poop.
Hence the title.

There was so much poop involved that it spilled out of the diaper on to the bedspread. This nastiness was only enhanced when one nurse looked at the other nurse and I and mouthed the words "Its warm".

It would seem that my boredom, lack of stimulation or combination of the both has caused me to suffer from an acute case of prejudice.

I must say for the record that I am generally left wing in my political leanings. I believe in womens rights, the rights of minorities, the rights of teh gayz, right to religion blah blah blah. Everyones got rights but the hippies. I digress. It seems that my political leanings and all the understandings that come with them have been dropped for 12 hours.

The section in which i am stationed is predominantly women. As a result it is quite noticeable when there are men around. I have seen two men, both of which have caused me to laugh out loud at their vivacious swishy ways. Its obvious that these traits are only characteristics of a small part of the gay community which is equally vibrant and diverse as the hetero community. Regardless, I cant help but giggle like a school girl.

My particular favorite moment came from a porter who was dressed as if he was a customer at a night club. His elongated S's would put Buddy to shame. For some reason i was thrown off by his terrible haircut as arent all gay men supposed to have impeccable grooming and style. Obviously one notable exception would be Robin De Groot of Restaurant Makeover fame. Then again this is Halifax we are talking about.

Another incident in which i found myself passing judgement involved a Jehovahs witness Rep who had come to visit my patient.

I had just been reading an article on the religious nut Bruce Balfour, who had returned to Canada after a short stay in a Lebanese prison. He had been planting ceders so that they could be harvested to build a second (3rd?) temple in Israel as a means of making way for the second coming of Christ.

Crazy.

Anyways, thankfully i had not made any comments to my patient about crazy christians, as moments later he was visited by his 'friend'. He left me with some pamphlets about bullying in schools and passage into Jehovah. What the former could do for me, a 23 year old male, or my patient, a bedstricken man with intestinal problems, i do not know. As for the latter of the two pieces, i suppose it might lend hope to Mr Eddy- as i know there is no hope for me. I will say that he was polite, especially when he thanked me for my contributions to Canadas Healthcare system. Dude, im getting paid to do this. Paid poorly. Its money none the less.

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Unsolved Mysteries

2008-10-01T21:55:00.007-04:00

Got an easy one today. He looks like Mr Eddy from Lost Highway. Mostly sleeping when hes not got visitors.

Seems to be alot of religious representatives today. Within the last 4/5 hours ive seen one presbyterian rep and a catholic nun.

Great to see that these religious communities really care for their 'flock'. Ive enjoyed watching these awkward conversations between the people and God's reps.

Honestly prob the best part of the job is watching the interaction between the patient and whoever. Family time tends to be so so as theres rarely an interesting family dynamic. The fun tends to happen with strangers, especially unwanted strangers. Lots of awkward silences and forced conversations. You get to sit and stare the entire time like someone behind a window.

At one point a patient told the presbyterian rep he hadnt been to church in a long time and that he wasnt a church going man. This was followed by another awkward silence and then the rep excused herself to go to another appointment. ou can never be sure whether the reps are there out of the goodness of their own heart or to hopefully scoop up any inheritance/donations. Prob 50/50.

On another note I have developed a crush on a muslim doctor. I know shes muslim because of the hijab (originally had habib written down, thats a common last name like smith or jones, not a fucking piece of clothing, real fucking cultured guy.) Oh the woes of forbidden love!

Oh yeah, Henry fucking Rollins is going to be on Unsolved Mysteries. He said he wants Justice!

For some reason alot of this shift was spent focused on uncomfortable sexual situations throughout my lifetime. It was uncomfortable enough to feel castrated for the shift.

and the next day.

and the day after that.

Here are the usual assortment of songs that were picked in accordance to the different topics that came up in todays post. In some cases some songs were too perfect (see: Slip it in).

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Nice Ol Fella

2008-09-27T04:05:00.005-04:00

Wow, having read ahead, the post after this one ends really awkwardly.
Im not entirely sure im prepared to post it.
Gotta say that as a 'writer*' its definitely the hardest thing to conquer.
Some cats are able to play it off like its fiction but i cant help but feel that it comes across as fact/truth. Spose it doesnt help that im making announcements like this. Well Fuck that. That last bit in my future post is surely edited.Yuugh.

Need to stop posting drunk.
NAGL.

Regardless.
The cat i had this shift was an older gent (which seemed to be the trend, spose it shouldnt be surprising as the elderly fall sick everywhere on a regular basis.) Like alot of the other cats i spent time with he was in the war. It was never uncommon out on the east coast. Much like Italy (and any other poor catholic/religious countries/states/provinces/regions) you gave one son to to the army and one son to the church.

In all honesty your better off losing a leg then getting molested but thats a whole other diatribe.

This post seems to be getting increasingly darker.

Anyways with this comes a great amount of stories in relation to personal struggles. As mentioned in the previous post about our boy the Scotch, many a horror was seen and many a horror was described. It was none the less fascinating and beneficial. In this case, the ol fella was telling me about how the Canadian government would send...

Ok i gotta stop here for a second...

Ive read this same paragraph in my note book about 6 or 7 times and its still not making sense. I will grant you that ive had a bit to drink but i do believe that some of my previous posts will prove that this hasnt necessarily been a hinderance. If anything its added to my immediate charm.

As a result we can ignore this interruption and direct our attention back to our beloved subject.

One thing about the old is that they eventually realize that there really is little to lose in no longer giving a shit about appereances. This doesnt necessarily apply to all the old folks as there are a few that in there cute manner feel its necessary to wear their sunday best all the time. This should be applauded HOWEVER one needs to recognize and appreciate those that choose comfort over fashion. This gentleman was not ashamed to admit this, especially as he announced that he had decided to use a belt with his jogging pants as they had come from the garbage (not entirely sure he was right of mind at that moment). Regardless it was something to dwell on.

The most memorable thing about this old fella was the fact that he had half a set of teeth but a heart full of love. Dude was free with the hugs and theres not reason not enjoy a hug.

Willing to bet that the old boy enjoyed his smut as well (this btw is smut in the old folk sense, not in the pornographies sense)

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*Using this loosely. Ive never been printed in a paper or magazine or anything of any repute as a result some might argue that im not a proper writer. Fuck you, stoosh.

Ghost Month, Day, Year

2008-09-17T22:47:00.004-04:00

Smells of work:

-Fresh cologne & perfume at the start and end of shift
-Shit
-Hand sanitizer
-Sanitizing detergent
-Rubber gloves
-Cheap soap (of the bar variety)
-Stale breath
- Sweat and blood of the workers (just kidding)

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Mullets, Mustaches and Monster Trucks

2008-09-13T04:32:00.008-04:00

This shift is a shortone.
Im aiding a guy who clearly doesnt need it and its boring me immensely.
I dont know what pains me more, my hunger, the lack of break or the incessant stories about the mans social circle (and the repetition of these stories).

We had a great discussion about how we'd love to sit in on Monster Garage to learn various secrets.
I guess I was convincing in my lies regarding mechanics as I know little to nothing about cars and their parts.

He then told me various stories emphasizing his social status. Ill let the reader take liberties and enjoy the few specific points that were brought to my attention.

(Holy fuck was I pretentious. I spose I am now, but Im in denial so it doesnt count. I love the working man, no matter how foreign that world may be. These soft clerical hands cant take it).

1- He lost his license to a DUI
2- He was in an accident with a four wheeler because he likes to 'giver' (consequently his wife refuses to ride with him)
3- The fucking Monster Truck conversation
4- His sister was evicted from her trailer (TRAILER!!!!!)

I hope that adds up for you.
I cant wait til this is done. Im cooking up a feed of chicken and rice.

PS He also threatened his wifes ex-boss at KFC

Final notes:
Man, id like to apologize. Although these notes/this story was taken 5 or so years back, im coming off like a complete dick. I spose I was just out of University and figured I was owed something (not unlike most, if not all students) and still had not worked a serious day of work in my life even. In all honesty, I bet dude was pretty awesome and down to earth. Id really like to apologize to that dude. I guess I was in denial of my roots. Amherst WHAT?!?! Never forget your roots.
FOB or not.
Po folk make the world go round.
PS
Ive had a bit to drink
PPS
This isnt some sort of communist friendly rant.

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Wee Willie Winkie

2008-09-03T22:28:00.006-04:00

8:32 pm
Well this shift is gonna be interesting. Hes an aged acadian alcoholic whos fallen on his head in the process of drying out and he greets me with curses in both our countries languages. hes 65 but easily looks like hes in his 90s. He screams in both french and english "cunt cunt cunt" over and over and over. The attendent i relieved laughed heartily shaking his head said "Have a good time".
So far so amusing.

Several Quotes

Nurse "Goodnight Willie"
Willie "Goodnight Cunt"

Me "So, where are you from?"
Willie "My Mother..." (implications were far worse then the actual quote)

Later on, probably 4am ish

This guy totally reminds me of that miserable drunk in trees lounge.. Sometimes he sounds like a guinea pig, squeeing away "AWAWAWAWAAWAAW" etc.

Ive spent most of my time either watching WWW change positions 20 times in a minute or watching "Hotboys" starring a whole lotta No Limit cats and Gary Busey.
Its a tough call whos the worse actor, Gary Busey or Silkk the Shocker.

He also keeps calling me either Paul ("Pol Pol Pol Pol"), boy or dog. The third name he used frequently earlier when he was quite angry.

There were some antagonistic conversations (on my part) suggesting to Willie that he should run for premier. He kept yelling "Cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt". I suggested he could run under the alliance banner and that could be his slogan. Oh yeah, PS Grumble grumble grumble.

Lumpia= Eggroll (not part of the entry but was written there so id thought id include it, a long long time ago i had a phillipino girlfriend and it was not uncommon for me to eat a large plate of those in one sitting. So fucking delicious.)

I have melded two shifts into one entry. This would be where the second one starts. i forgot to mention that for some reason he always thanks me when i give him something to drink.

"GOUTE! GOUTE!" (sometimes "DOG! GOUTE!")
i give him a drink, holding the straw to his dry lips and watching him slurp greedily.

"Thank you" in a whispered voice.

Nurse was really pissed cuz he kept swinging at him. He did however take his sleeping pills, so hopefully sweet dreams willy. Cops is on. We are watching it together.
Nice isnt it?

Wee Willie "Couche-toi, Goddamn monkey!"

I also recently noticed as they stripped him that he was a hunchback. Whether this was something that happened at birth or a later deformity, ill never know. I do know however it adds to his character. His head hangsoff his body for fuckssake. From this pale light he looks a bit like William S Burroughs but sounds like the penguin. Fuckin hell.

Wee Willie "Youre Water Crazy"

Frankly my dear readers, I am water crazy.

Wish i could have found Master P - We Riders, best song imo (also first song i ever heard by him). Lotta No Limit songs i couldnt find. Get off my back.

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BK Breakfast sandwiches

2008-08-27T22:28:00.008-04:00

Ok ok, so im not writing from work, however this story is still work related. Ive gone to drop off our payslips as there is a rotation of 3 weeks (each person assigned to a different week).

I had a feed of some croissanwiches (youd better put some bbq sauce on that damn shit. Prob contributed later to my ulcer) and im waiting for the bus to come. This will take a substantial amount of time as it is Natal day (ive honestly never heard of this holiday and being a man of leisure, i am well versed in the most obscure holidays).

Anyways, this part of town in which our office is located is both out in the middle of nowhere and somewhat sketchy. On several occasions ive had the delightful experience of being exposed to a variety of drug abusers and other such lowlifes.

Todays particular situation involved some gas station attendents and a crazy homeless man.

Unfortunately i missed the initial exchanges between the two attendents and the hobo. But to my understanding he was rooting around in the gas stations garbage and possibly defecating nearby. Although he didnt actually say anything he had very sharp mannerisms that would suggest mental illness, intoxication or both.
There was a very intense staring contest between the first attendent, an older gentlemen who asked the guy "What are you doing?".

The second attendent appeared from around the corner. Both attendents stood with their arms crossed as the bums body swayed with the breeze.

The only problem was that it was completely still that day.

The second attendent pretended to be busy as the bum pretended to leave. It was amusing because neither of them actually was going to go anywhere. The bum continued to distance himself from the attendent, however every so often he would begin to close back in on the gas station.

I became a little nervous as the proximity between the bum and myself became increasingly smaller. I even wondered whether i should run for the cover of the fearless esso knights. I then realized that i was physically larger then both of them so i should stop being a pussy and suck it up. Thankfully by that point the bum had fucked off, looking like a balloon bobbing in the wind.

Please note i chose songs that have titles related to hobos.
Oddly enough they were all on diff Vice magazine sample cds too.
Subliminal message anyone?

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When 2 become 1

2008-08-18T22:17:00.003-04:00

I had two patients at separate times tonight. The first was that old fella in his wheelchair, Speedy Gonzales (or Speedracer as i believe i had called him). He was certainly amiable and slept most of the time, if not all of the time. The few minutes he was up he spent smoking peter jacksons telling me how smoking was a wonderful hobby. I could do nothing but agree.

The nurses soon saw fit for me to tend to another patient who I had had on a previous shift. Unlike that previous shift this guy was up and running. Quite an amusing fellow actually. I often wonder if older people have selective hearing. Much like my great Uncle Roy, when I asked questions, he would disregard them. Please keep in mind it wasnt in an offensive manner, more in the sense that he never heard me pose the question in the first place. This, of course, proved to be amusing.

Example Number 1

Patient 2 (Crazy Ol Coote), pointing at the hallway: Who was that fella?
Me: I believe his name was Colin

COC: Wylie?
Me laughing: Nono, (spelling it out) C-O-L-I-N

COC: Wylie?
Me laughing harder: No, its still Colin

COC: Wylie?
Me: Yes, Wylie

COC: Well aint that something, I got a cousin named Wylie

Example Number 2

Me: So, do you like fishing?
COC: So ive got 300,000 Dollars and 3 girls that work for me

Needless to say I began to wonder if he was a pimp in his spare time
He did have a swagger.
Granted he lost half his leg in the war.

Example Number 3
COC: Are there any pants in there?
Me: Nope Just shirts

COC:Pass me some of those pants
Me: well, theres no pants but ill pass you some shirts

(i pass him some shirts)

COC: Well, ill be damned, these are all shirts

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Original Introduction/Okie

2008-08-04T16:26:00.005-04:00

Found the original introduction halfway through the note book.
Thats a good place for an introduction.
Figured it was worth throwing this up here regardless.

Introduction to Candystripers (Candystripers was the original title).

All these stories are voices of experience within the hospital. Although we are neither hardened physicians nor hardworking nurses, we do spend large quantities of time (each shift is 12 hours) with patients and their families. These are our stories. All names and initials have been changed to protect the individual patients and their families. In place we have given them humorous nicknames.

Meh.
Reads like the intro to Law and Order.

Feeling particularly generous so im gonna post a big 2 parter today.

Okie

This shift has been really too different from any other shift. The start of the shift was amusing enough having run into a fellow who was wearing a supertramp shirt (supertramp for the record, fucking rule, seriously) and had no clue how to navigate through the hospital. My fellow has a trumpet instead of a traech and it makes things difficult to understand. To make matters worse his handwriting is attrocious and sometimes incoherent.

One nurse came in with a flashlight and he went beserk, as if the nurse was an invader from that game nighttrap. His nurse is alright except she doesnt seem to like it when i start asking questions about medication (IE "Do most patients get ativan?" "Most doctors give it" "So i guess its a cure all, huh?") or about their jobs in general ("Do you guys do alot of paperwork? Hows that?")

They do seem to give out alot of ativan though, seriously. I wonder if half the patients become washed up clothing designers and go straight to Betty Ford.

What?!

Well after trying to yank out all of his tubes consecutively theyve dosed him up with some morphine and hes definitely more placid. I hope for his sake he can sleep soon. He seems to be enamoured with the flashing light on the smoke alarm. Its like hes hyptonized or a deer caught in headlights.

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Brain dead

2008-07-24T22:22:00.002-04:00

Lucky you.
Looks like im too awake to try and catch a couple hours kip before my plane trip so i intend on writing something out. This story should be interesting as theres no initials and most of it is rambling. Oddly enough it involves a transvestite again. I can promise you its not a reoccuring theme. At least not one that im conscious of.

Seems to have been a somewhat uneventful evening. Apparently I yet again won the heart of some poor old girl (why are they never young and/or rich?) who looks as if shes on her deathbed. She keeps flirting with me and giving me copious amounts of popsicles. Who is this wandering minstrel?

I can honestly interject that i have no clue where a patient, as ill as she was, was getting popsicles from. Im baffled.

I have Brain disease again (aka CJ, mentioned in a previous post), so there is not much to report. Here are several highlights of the evening

- Ol CJ attempted to eat my dinner. Not funny guy. I know your sick but im making minimum wage. Youre food is free guy. Free. Eventually i fed him crackers and peanut butter (i helped him eat them).

- A male nurse who looked like a cross between one of my old bosses and Malcolm McDowell. He made several bags of popcorn and absolutely insisted that everyone must have some. This of course was one of his many nitpickings. I honestly believe that he wasnt gay either although ALOT of signs pointed to yes.

-During my second break I watched a tv program about people that wanted to look like Barbie and altered their bodies to do so.

- I saw a visitors wig that reminded me of my 2003 New Years spent in Toronto. We had spent much of it at the Dance Cave (i was not in the know, as i currently am, god im so cool now) for some sort of Mod night. Our boy Fraze was in fine form and had made out with several ladies on teh dance floor and had disappeared. We decided we had had enough (they stopped serving) and headed back to his. Of course we didnt have keys to get into his building or his apartment. Sweet. Somehow we managed to get in through a fire escape. As it was late we decided to sleep in the hall thinking he would return soon. Wrong. Not long after the drunken slumber began we were woken by his neighbour or at very least his neighbours guest. A particularly tall and broad transvestite.
I can smell it like it was yesterday. She had a strange scent of a sweet sweet perfume mixed in with some sort curry spice (hijra anyone?). Startled I began to attempt to explain that we were there with legitimately and with legal intentions. Sympathetic to our plight, the kind soul brought us some pillows with which we could rest our heavy heads. We were woken by our friend in teh early morn, with Rob not remembering the incident at all.

Perhaps it never happened?

Regardless we were kind enough to return the pillows with a letter letter of thanks.

THANKS AGAIN PRETTY LADY, WHERE EVER YOU ARE! (prob in TO)

In her honor i have posted some Sylvester and several other like minded artists (ive played out Antony in this blog).

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Lazy Prick

2008-07-23T20:08:00.006-04:00

yep ive been one.
Its been a busy month for the football and im off to NY on vacation on friday for a couple of days. Not to worry there will be more nonsense soon enough.
Also my sister gave me her old notebook with her entries so once im all dried up i can try and write from her point of view. That is going to be awkward.
Note that i posted an Antony and the Johnsons song.
Another man whos tried to sing like a lady (rather successfully i might add).
I also posted a Hercules and love affair song with Antony singing because i intend on going to alot of bathhouse discos in NY (they are fucking awesome arent they...how ambiguous is that?!?!?! "Is he talking about the bathhouse discos or Hercules and Love Affair?!?!?!")

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JC

2008-07-10T00:18:00.003-04:00

I have yet to decide whether I am a callous, judgemental hypocrite or an amazingly great judge of character.

My patient today has remainded unconcious for most of my shift allowing me to ro redirect my attention to his roommate, our polish friend (from here on in known as the His Royal Polishness) and my Phillip K Dick novel.

I have had several interesting conversations with his regalness about politics. However, I have to admit that his heavy accent and habit of mumbling has made things difficult at times. In fact, im not sure if at one point he was praising or slagging off jewish business men. (Side note: It must be said that Poland, was/is particularly anti-semitic, therefore i would bank on the latter of the two).

Periodically my patient awakens to scream a stream of cursewords and passout. HRP imitates these curses with additional moans and we both look at each other and laugh.

Having gone for my break, I hope for quiet time with 'Weird Homes'. Sadly it resulted in the an understanding that the majority of my coworkers are made up of the dregs of society.

This woman first tells me of her bestfriend who is a 91 year old woman who was beatn up by her alcoholic son.

I had little in response to this.

This was followed up with a moral tirade about how the youth of today (2003 or 4, i forget) are lost in drugs, alcohol and sex. Admitting this was certainly true for myself, she then moved on to a history of her personal relationships.

The highlight being that her current husband (11 years her junior) lives with his mother, while she lives in a small apartment.

OBVIOUSLY curious i had to ask 'Why is this the arrangement?"

I then learned that it is her second marriage and his 4TH!!!!.

In order for her not to be a hypocrite she had to marry the man she was having sex with.

CeePee's diagnosis:

Loonie.

Call me crazy, but at least im not deluding myself when i enjoy(ed) drugs, alcohol and sex for what they are, rather then trying to mask them like our friends...

Thank god my break ended at some point so i could escape this vile woman.

I returned to the room to take in the sight of HRP's doting lady friend. Dont get me wrong, hes a nice guy, charming even, in that crazy grandpa kind of way. Yet he has this lady who answers to his every beck and call. Bringing him toast and tea, puttin gup with his sexist (and hilarious) comments. Im wondering if this old man is a millionaire or summat cause all shes asked for so far was dinner once he gets out.
Perhaps she doesnt know how to feed herself?

I will finish this story off on a happy note.
I saw Speedracer in his wheelchair again. Im in the same ward (just down the hall this time) and goddammit dont i just wanna put him in a box and keep him to myself.

CJ

2008-07-07T23:54:00.007-04:00

Gotta say this guy was pretty uninspiring as far as patients (let alone patients with brain injuries) were concerned. I had this guy several times and he would vary from shift to shift. Sometimes he was docile (and relatively vegetable like) plodding along the hallways slowly. Other times he was like George from Of mice and men (minus the talking and plus teh super strength and anger). Apparently he had a brain infection and had a loss of short term memory. Id argue that i was more severe then that. Granted he didnt have the outward appearance of an academic but he certainly was short on words (said a bare minimum) and had a vapid look in his eye that was only made worse with the regular drooling.

He did however maintain a healthy appetite. He could fucking eat.
Admittedly this post is less about the patient i was caring for then about another patient i encountered that night.

CJ wouldnt usually last too long and as a result he'd go to bed and id have the majority of the evening to myself to read whatever book i had at the moment as well as contemplate what was wrong with my stomach (it was about this time that h. pylori started growing in my stomach. Its horrible. If you even sorta think you have it, get it sorted.).

In most situations youd read for hours on end and maybe talk to the nurses, some of which were fascinating others were just downright sweethearts. Once in a while this routine would be broken. And lucky for me, it was one of those nights.

Close to the end of my shift, it would have been about 5 or 6 in the morning (as mentioned in the intro post, it was an 8 to 8 shift), i was slowly getting sleepier and sleepier. I heard a noise down the hall, however in my sleepy haze and the darkened hallway it was too tough to see.

It approached at a great speed considering the time of day, the size of the moving object.

As it approached, en lieu of getting bigger, he seemed to stay the same size.
Shriveled.

The shriveled man had huge glasses like Uncle Junior or Bubbles and a hat stolen from caddyshack.

He had a giant grin on his face and looked both happy to see me and to be alive. He nodded and asked how my day was (which was more or less over and uneventful) and I asked him how his was (which was just starting). He then excused himself and raced off top speed with his tiny toothpick legs dangling away. All the while leaning forward in an adventurous manner, as if he was a dog that had just been released from being kenneled all night.

GO SPEED RACER, GO!

SeeqPod - Playable Search

Scotch (aka The Major)

2008-07-03T23:49:00.010-04:00

I remember this guy quite vividly. Mostly because he had a tracheotomy and a thick weegie accent. It was a confusing combination.

He was bed stricken and youd have to push down on his trache to hear whatever he said. I have to admit i still now take a certain pride in the fact that i can understand what he said then. The old boy was OLD. Old as dirt. As old as Jaysis and he had some fascinating stories.

Admittedly none of them were even remotely happy.
Is anyone surprised?
Hes from Scotland.

Oh ive attempted to add some scottish bands to add to the atmosphere.
Perfect no?
Went through a huge faze where this was all id listen to.
Didnt do much research, just grabbed some favorites that i remembered.

Regardless, his stories varied greatly from living (and surviving) in Glasgow, which was at one point one of the most violent cities on earth (see: glasgow smile). But was by far the most interesting was his stories about the Second World War and the creation of Israel. He campaigned in both.

In Israel there were no maps of the middle east. Just after the war, the countries which had had vested interests in whichever country (example France had Lebanon, the UN had Palestine) began to draw borders (some of this accounts for contemporary political issues). As a result, they had to refer to the bible to understand where they were. This was no joke. One can believe it. Up until as recent as the 60s and 70s a significant amount of people in the middle east were nomadic tribes that had little contact with westerners. Why would westerners want to be in there anyways? What could the desert offer?

One can only imagine the added pressure of "shooting at things they didnt understand" (his words) to being at the edge of the world. This of course was after they had help release people from concentration camps. Dude was tough, his voice would tremble as he could barely describe the attrocities he saw. It would break your heart as you know the only other people this guy could have talked to about this were the people that were there with him. Even the boys at the legion had their own experiences and you didnt want to diminish others for what they had seen. No wonder he loved cheap scotch (i kid you not, he said as much, the expensive stuff wasnt worth it. Talk about stereotypes).

As rough as the old bugger seemed (which was always only momentary as he was so open and accepting of the things he saw in his lifetime), he sure as fuck hadnt lost his sense of humor. Outside of this guy being basically what i wanted to be when i turned old, he was funny as all fuck. We watched a ton of tv and his comments were none stop.

Ill be damned if i can remember what we were watching but it involved a family that had a pet raccoon. As the one child was petting and coddling the animal he looked at me and said "I bet he'd bite you before the day was over". Not long after this he called a rabbit from a blockbuster commercial a 'fucking cunt'. Not sure if it was because he was a shit gimmick (he was) or cuz he was a rabbit. Either way it was amazing and has led to me using the word 'cunt' casually.

Also he mentioned his wife is 300 pounds.

God he was a great man.

SeeqPod - Playable Search

Defo going to do more of this in the future.

My Elderly Lover

2008-06-25T20:28:00.005-04:00

Ah my sweet elderly lover.

Your skin, soft like velvet and squishy like a beanbag.

Your hair long and stringy like hay (your old, its ok my dear).

She really was a sweetie tho, quite gentle. Judging by her murmurings she seemed to think i was someone she had known or spent some time with. She had quite a bit of energy as did her roommate. Where she was focused on doing her chores (which included folding blankets and arranging bits and pieces), her roommate was more focused on doling out orders and long conversations (with noone). Often, interspersed with the commentary/conversation, she would bang on the bed in a matter of fact way.

Please note that that differs GREATLY from nonsensical banging in which the patient seems to be banging with no goal in sight and more often then not simply for the noise. In this case, the patient was banging almost to punctuate certain points.

As the night grew longer new activities were found by my lovely lady. With her neighbour passed out from all that babbling and ordering around (its tough work you know, people test the patience more than you can imagine) we found a new activity. Stuffing a matt into my shirt sleeve. I really truly wish I could figure out what she was doing/thinking.

Everything up until that point had been menial tasks that one would do if one was spending alot of time around the house, folding, wiping stuff down etc etc (all from bed, not necessarily with actual objects). This activity of all things did not register as anything I had heard about in the past or present time. Could it have been her alzheimers kicking in?

After she 'finished' her chores, she would attempt to get out of bed in a feeble well intended manner. Each time, i would help her back into bed, she would immediately forget she was trying to get out and lie back down for a moment.

It was maddening.

Each time this occured i would ask if there was anything i could do for her. Finally, after the 100th time, she looked at me dead in the eye and said

"All i want to do, is hold you tight".

I responded (playing it cool) "Thanks"

Her immediate response was "I love you" which was obviously followed on my part with "i love you too".

I should have known things were headed this way when she kissed my wrist.

Please stay tuned, i promise the next entry will be a treat, its about Ol Scotch.
Dude was AMAZING.

Deathbed

2008-06-17T21:54:00.003-04:00

For the most part the patients were either bedstricken or capable of walking but not necessarily all there mentally. I did however have 2 particular exceptions 1) a man who was a doctor and on suicide watch (ill tell you more about this fellow later) and 2) a man who was on the brink of death (who i will tell you about here).

With most other patients you had to entertain them in one manner or another, whether it was parcheesi or stopping them from tugging at their tubes and or hitting you/themselves. This situation was a little bit simpler. The poor old bird was laid up in bed dying slowly from what i diagnosed as cancer. Granted im not a doctor so it was probably something other then cancer. Regardless I had to keep an eye on her machine and should she flatline i was to alert the nurses.

The nurses by the way were absolutely adorable. I spose it comes with the job of working in the palliative unit. I somehow doubt families would be comforted with the thought of Nurse Rachet watching over their dying relative. Regardless these women were sympathy incarnate. It was as if i was dying and they were to look over me. Theyd walk in every 20 minutes offering pillows, juice, blankets and breaks. Christ, they sent me home 2 hours early AND i got paid for the whole 12.

God bless em all.

Admittedly it was a grim situation so really someone had to make the best of it. The poor thing looked as if she was ready to expire (not in the sense that she was sick but in the sense that she looked a thousand years old). It was at this point that she really was a shell of a human. There was nothing left for her in this world. Thankfully she wasnt hooked up to lifesupport so it wasnt a matter of someone pulling (or not pulling) the plug. It was more an issue of when she decided to go.

Im not lying when i say these things, I may be understood as twisted having written and thought this at the time.

I wanted her to die.

Now there are two reasons behind this, the first being the most obvious.

She was using up alot of electricity.
Just kidding.

As mentioned previous She looked as if it was her time.

It really did.
Now for all the hurt that one feels when a loved one passes away there is always the knowledge (or sometimes the knowledge) that they are in a better place.

I can first hand say that ANYWHERE was better then that room at that time.

Then again i was alive, able to breath and run and was paid to be there, so i suppose one could argue that that hardly counts as a valid opinion...

The second reason was that I wanted to experience death first hand.

Now before you get carried away i dont mean that in the sense that I wanted to watch her gasp for her last breath as I forced a pillow down on her soft face. It was more the case that I was genuinely curious to see someone that im somewhat detached from (im not a total sociopath here thank you) pass in a relatively natural manner.

It was genuine curiousity, not a god complex.

I suppose in hindsight that palliative care isnt really the place to look for that as most people there are in particularly shitty situations. Then again that could be used as a justification for a desire to see them dead. See the vicious circle? Prob not, YOU prob dont wanna see anyone die.
Fffft.
Prude.

DM 2

2008-04-23T22:46:00.004-04:00

Over our 12 hour shift i seem to remember only getting a half hour for lunch (as far as breaks were concerned). If im not mistaken this is pretty illegal, i think youre entitled to at least 2 15 minute breaks and a half hour for every 8 hours. Whatevs, i was getting peasant wages anyways so details like breaks and such are quite minor when one thinks of it.

Obviously with a 30 minute break there wasnt much to do. You were more or less limited to the room you were in, the common room down the hall or the cafeteria (which most likely wasnt serving food not that you wanted to eat there anyways).

If the patient had cable it was most easiest to eat and watch tv. Granted there were several health implications that came with this (like c. difficile) so it wasnt necessarily the wisest thing to do.

The cafeteria was not bad, always lit with neon lights and decorated in a 70s manner reminiscent of a David Cronenberg film. If they were serving food it was most certainly better then what you were currently eating and you could not afford it at whatever inflated prices had been chosen.

The common room was always filled with uncomfortable furniture, old magazines (such a fucking cliche in any medical office), pamphlets on different diseases/illnesses/religions and sometimes childrens toys. If there was a tv it would either get several channels (it may have cable access but godforbid anyone takes the time to actually program the tv, surely there is SOME room in the budget to pay a technician to do this) or it got 4 channels. In this circumstance the tv got 4 channels.

Needless to say i was less than pleased to find that the only thing worth watching on these 4 channels was a fucking show on surgery as the other 3 channels had turned off for the evening.
Christ sometimes Nova Scotia seemed like it was a million worlds away. Like i had been shipped off to a Siberian Gulag. Was this a test?

Once i returned to my patient (the fore mentioned DM) I realized i may not have it quite so bad.

Admittedly this shift was uneventful (apart from the tv test). I did find out that hes the ripe old age of 92 (he looks as if hes 70 something). Rather then spend the evening acting aggravated and picking fights, he was happy as a clam and spent it singing. To add to incoherent babble, he would cough dramatically (which was rather cute). It would seem that although our comprehension skills were set quite low we managed to amuse ourselves late into the night. Its amazing how a night of the good meds can affect a body.

DM I

2008-03-04T22:45:00.008-05:00

Ive always been fascinated with buildings at nighttime. I love the concept of these giant corporate structures empty/void of the usual human life that temporarily inhabits them. The only noises beeping security alarms, cameras and lights. One night watchman who reads for his 12 hour shift, does rounds once every two hours and spends the rest of his lonesome time reading, eating and flipping through magazines. Ive always wanted to run around these buildings rooting through peoples desks (finding secrets) pretending something was chasing me like a scene out of a horror movie. Down emergency stairs, hiding under desks.

The hospitals are a variation of this.

They are quiet except for the soft hum of machines. Patients are like poltergeists kicking, screaming, sighing sporadically then going silent for short periods. The nurses are like silent spectres that hover from room to room, periodically murmuring amongst themselves. Every sound is crisp and clear. The hall ways are dark except for the faint glow of nurses booths and bathroom lights. Wheelchairs lie empty tucked in corners.

When sitting next to a patient one quickly grows knowledgeable of their sounds. Most of the time they are kept to a minimum as these people have lost a majority use of their functions.

DM was no exception, in fact there seemed to be only one sound that came from him, the gurgle of fluids. He regularly expelled urine and needed his traech cleaned. He would lie completely immobile with exception to when there was a forced suction of his traech. It was at that point that he could muster a high pitch squeal not unlike the one emitted from a stuck pig. Really, hes not unlike that video by metallica.

All the gurgling of the liquids and drinking of fluids (one would have to, its incredibly dry in hospitals) would cause frequent trips to the bathroom. It was there that you would be temporarily blinded and would smell a heavy bacterial cleanser scent. Like a fucking scene out of Alien autopsy or Fire in the sky.

This scent follows you where every you go, it attempts to mask the scent of illness but fails constantly to do so. From Dusk to dawn its bloody well there. Finally after two days off, it disappears (your work clothes smell of it tho). Doesnt matter as you have to go back tomorrow, and the scent returns.

My 'work' time is spent reading a thick book on the Third Reich, which im sure isnt going to endear me with the nurses. Ill admit i was somewhat paranoid that I was going to be thought of as a neonazi. Having just read about the Nazi's treatment of Romas, Jews, Gays and Jehovahs Witnesses, my attention is drawn to some pamphlets on a darkened sill. Whats odd is that ive seen these before in the common room. Arent the Jehovahs witnesses against modern medicine or something to that effect? Do they really spend their free time going into hospitals teaching the evils of healthcare? God the title of The Watchtower is frightening.

Sweet Sweet WS

2008-02-24T23:27:00.003-05:00

Judging both my notes and memories mustaches seem to be quite popular amongst those born in the 1920's and 1930's. Granted the women at that age cant really help it (lack of estrogen you see).

From what ive written here in my notebook it would seem that WS was quite a treat. For the most part he remained quite still and content as the nurses seem to have fed him enough pills to sedate a small elephant (or kill a small dog, your choice really, you sick fuck). This, as mentioned previously only really results in one of two manners.

The first being the most preferred, spending the rest of the 11 or so hours watching television (particularly A&E, they have American Justice with Bill Kurtis), eating the patients dinners (he doesnt want them, hes nearly comatose and the nurse said you can have it) and reading your big book on Nazis.

The second being far from preferred but the most likely to occur. In the second situation the patient will take turns tugging at his tubes (whether feeding, breathing or peeing) and giving him self induced panic attacks in which his heart rate speeds up so much that the nurses are in every 10 or so minutes to make sure he doesnt kick the bucket. If in fact the panic attacks dont kill him, the nurses surely will. As a result you will have to hold his hand, calmly stroke it and tell him that it really will be ok (although even the medical professionals at this point in time highly doubt that is true).

Ideally the fits wont last too far into the night and at about 4am or so he will slowly close his eyes, grin, gurgle and not die. Sleep tight precious angel.

DF

2008-02-07T21:27:00.000-05:00

So far throughout my entries my patients have seemed harmless or amusing. I spose even for the most part i havent really painted much of a picture with these brief stories.

Fair enough, i havent really got to the juicy bits of my hospital escapades. Let alone come upon entries with great detail.

Regardless there were moments in which the patients themselves were particularly difficult to sympathize with. Most often these moments would occur early in the morning with a relatively detestable patient. Please note that often these people are not sound of mind; whether a reaction to head trauma or medication. However after 10 or so hours with these people; constantly guiding their hands away from their tubes (as they try to pull them out), dealing with their squawking voices (or lack their of, spose grunts might be a more appropriate description), and even being hit (granted its by a weakened bedridden patient), ones patience is tested.

Without a doubt one such patient who was such a test (and an introduction to this type of shift) was the gentlemen known as DF.

Immediately one thing i must note is the fact that the first bullet i have written down is the fact that he loved to kick and punch me. Admittedly this was always from a position in which the patient was lying back (and most most likely tied down, im not kidding) as well as in a weakened state. None the less, its not quite the introduction one would hope to have with a person that one is going to be spending 12 hours with.

Often the fact that he was tied down would seem to be a source of agony. His granddaughter came to visit for a short bit and most of the time was spent listening to him egg us on. It came to the point that he was almost begging us to laugh at him.

Now, I, like most people im sure, have seen close family members in various states of sickness. I have to admit that at this point i felt worse for the granddaughter than for the actual patient. Not only is the poor girl having to deal with her grandfather (who, im assuming has been put on a pedestal, as most grandparents are when in healthy relationships with their grand children) in his sickness, she now has to see the full extent of its effects.

To only endear the reader more with the patient will now provided the only other two bullets i had written.

- He keeps licking his lips like a child molester would at his prey (obviously overdramatic, but to a certain extent truthful). I do recall him regularly licking his lips, in fact it was common for alot patients to have quite a few repetitive habits. For instance my sister and ex at the time had both taken care of a female patient in the psyche ward. Whatever illness she had caused her to a) regularly drink water (when i say water, i mean quarts and quarts of water to the point that if it wasnt regulated, she would drown herself) and b) smear vaseline all over herself (which made for a mess in obvious and non-obvious ways, thats right, ewww). I wont go into detail but it involved poop (dont worry, not alot, regardless nasty) and menstrual fluid (also not alot, but still nasty).

- 'Cold dead eyes that stare at me from the dark. The hospital is creepy enough, reminds me alot of Lady Lazarus'. It also doesnt help that im reading about a serial killer in New Hampshire.'
I like how i snuck Lady Lazarus in there. Makes me sound educated doesnt it? I think i read it once in some uni english class. Christ i was pretentious then. Granted i still am now, but i realize it. Doesnt help that i would have minored in film if i could have. At least i wasnt a philosophy student. Blech.

Just so you know, im not particularly happy with this post. It does need to be printed for sake of consistency as well as it never hurts to practice writing. None the less, its hardly my finest of the lot. Now if you'll excuse me, im going to watch Rambo 4.

JR

2008-02-05T06:27:00.000-05:00

Oh my god im pissed. Tuesdays is my day to wake up early, go to work for 8 hours then go to school for another 3. Its fucking exhausting and i usually lose interest into about 1/3 of the day. Im particularly pissed as my alarm went off and I woke up an hour earlier then i was supposed to. This means i woke up at fucking 5.30am. Useless. Its not even like i can do anything at this point in the bloody morning. Really not cool. I at least wish i had some orange juice.

Even tho its early in the morn i do remember the following character JR. There are several reasons for this. He had the same name as a czech footballer (he was polish though, this was verified immediately), he was openly distainful of women (although he had been married and had a daughter, or so he claims) and he seemed to have a fear of soap (or at least smelt like he had a fear of soap).

Outside his misogny (and foul smell) he really was a quite pleasant man. He had been an architect in both the iron block and in Halifax at the time and had helped design one of the cities universities. I took great interest in his old time experiences in Communist Poland and he was all too happy to oblige. Oh lord how he loved Russia and he still considered them a world power.

Its at this point that I will write a sidenote but in the middle of this piece.

If im not mistaken at the time (2003) that this was written Russia was still undergoing some significant changes. Granted Putin was in power and the oligarchs had already raided the government for its goods but Russia was not quite butting heads with Western and Eastern countries, particularly the US, as it is today. As a result I had written the following, which at the time wasnt too far off (and to a certain extent still isnt).

"Maybe my North American Upper Middle Class mind has been poisoned against Russia's current glories? No, they are still fucked"

Since then Putin has been nominated as Person of the year by Time (granted so was Hitler, Stalin and Chang Kai Shek, even then that means something), their economy has boomed significantly, Russia has started to meddle with the likes of Ukraine and Georgia's (the country, not state) national elections, theyve been accused of sending spies to England and poisoning Politicians and expats. Regardless the country has become a world power (once again) along side China. That didnt take very long did it?

It should be noted that the dialogue between him and his roomate was like something out of a sitcom. She too was a lovely little thing probably bordering on the age of 107. In between the bickering she let it be known that I was allowed to read her National Enquirers and Weekly World News, which i was all to glad to do. The fact that she had called them smut made it very hard to resist.

Ech, i apologize if this post is a bit more scattered then usual, im really tired and have to go to work now. Blech, what a long day this is going to be.

Oh yeah, also this.

OS

2008-01-22T21:50:00.002-05:00

OS is described as being 'the mustachioed wonder' who spoke constantly about the wonders of copper, as well as how they affected the navy (im assuming the Canadian Navy). Later on i found out that he was neither in the navy or had ever worked with copper. I would love to know whether this infatuation with the metal was a result of a brain injury.

Having read this small blurb i decided to read ahead in my notes/stories to see if they got any better (they are really quite lacking at this point in the note book). Thankfully they do. In fact I managed to record some cute stories (unlike these, which are short go no where quips which i then have to compensate with rants like this).

Anyways I guess it was this first night that i saw a trake (Tracheotomy) up close.

Neighbour had a trake, first time i actually saw or heard one. Pretty nasty actually (staying away from smokes). This last sentences is a joke. At the time i had quit smoking for almost 4 years but craved them daily. I had really only quit for my gf at the time and always wait for us to break up so i could start again (bit callous, isnt it? She was a nice girl, i also liked smoking, it was a conflict).

Regardless ive started smoking again (well, actually I started immediately after breaking up, i do mean immediately, i had an emergency pack in the freezer) and havent looked back since (i have cut down significantly and mostly only smoke on the weekends, although it is a pack a day). I do plan on quitting on or before my 30th birthday, apparently rates of cancer drop significantly if one quits after that age (which begs the claim that chances of cancer decrease even more significantly when one doesnt smoke).

Back to the patient, the old boy had 3 milkshakes in 12 hours. That i must say is quite impressive as a)thats alot of milkshakes and b) those tasted like flavored chalk.

Eating was without a doubt one of the more fun things to do at the hospital. The food was rarely, if ever good. The milkshakes and juice were plentiful (stick with teh juice, its at least trustworthly), the food was only good as it was an adventure. To their credit there was a wide variety, unfortunately it was a wide variety of dreck. Basically all of the meat looked as if it had been cut from a loaf (not a delicious meatloaf but a nasty prison foodloaf). Of course there were always a variety of mashed roots (usually potatoes or sweet potatoes) and oddly cooked cubes of what i to this day believe to be rutabega. Id eat it all (it prob contributed to my shit stomach, thats another story) out of boredom if not hunger. It was just one of those things that came natural with this job.

like masturbation.

WP

2007-12-10T23:52:00.002-05:00

Its odd looking through this old notebook of mine as im really quite limited to whatever small notes i have scrawled in there. If anything its pretty fun to make an attempt at putting together the pieces of the story. The fellow im about to write about i remember absolutely very little about. It would seem that he sounded alot like Mushmouth. What I would really like to know is how i found out the following information (i wish i could scan the original bit ive got written here)

- LOVED THE SQUARE DANCING

Im not sure how i came about this information as anything i wrote that followed that has absolutely NOTHING to do with square dancing, cowboys, country music or any other topic that would be associated with square dancing. Actually i take that back, as it says "Had a friend refer to their child as a "Mentally retard". Right away the image that im sure flashes in most peoples minds is that scene from Deliverance. That shits pretty country right there.

It would seem that the old boy enjoyed a good game of cribbage as well. Now I have to admit that ive never played it since (and never played it previous to that). Im im not mistaken it involves cards (obviously) and a race using little plastic picks on a small wooden board. Slowly but surely images of this gentlemen are gracing my mind. I seem to remember a smaller cat with a mustache and really short hair, he was a white dude prob around the age of 76 or so. Definitely energetic but ya couldnt understand a fucking thing the fellah was saying (which was adorable).

Whats fantastic is the fact that I took the time to write down how much the man truly loved Dr Phil. Now those who know me well are well aware that i am a glutton when it comes to television. As a result i must have felt (i certainly do now) that we had an instant repetoire and that we were surely going to be bestfriends forever. From the looks of things it was Dr Phils frankness (and yet again the theme comes up), his country saavy that WP enjoyed. There is truly very little that can contest watching modern day television with old timey old'uns. The majority are clearly knowledgeable about how the world works and how truly fucked up human nature can be and yet they seem astounded and fascinated with the most simple of shows.

To be honest who can blame them. They have probably seen two world wars and survived in a tin roofed dirt shack and now after all that hard work and toiling, can sit back and watch Judge Judy berate Johnny Rotten. Im sure Sids rolling in his grave.

Some leeway needs to be granted here as the original excerpt said "I got him to watch an episode of Judge Judy before my shift ended. Apparently Johnny Rotten was once on Judge Judy. Im glad i no longer have cable"

What kind of bullshit is that last sentence.
Thank god ive grown up since then.

Ol GM

2007-12-06T23:36:00.000-05:00

First and foremost (sp?) please recognize that all patients will be called by their initials so as to avoid any nasty lawsuits (although im sure they wont find me or give a shit about my internaut ramblings).

At this point in my life i was living in Halifax having just finished University. It was 2003, I was 23 (im pretty sure, please feel free to step in if you know me) and living in the southend right around the corner from St Marys University.

The Eastcoast isnt particularly known for its abundance of jobs and as a result one (particularly me) had to scrape by. This isnt to say that i was living in complete destitution, just to say that I had a string of shitty jobs most of them 'character building'.

This job was by far the most interesting of all the jobs that i had. Sadly i didnt keep a diary of the call center job i had later on. Ideally if this should come to an abrupt end, i will try to remember bits and pieces.

Regardless. My sister, girlfriend at the time and I all applied for jobs through an independent healthcare provider. Essentially as a result of the lack of nurses (nationally if im not mistaken) there were 6 to 10 patients to one nurse. Needless to say some of these patients would have head injuries or would react poorly to medication and would need extra supervision so as not to hurt themselves or others. It was our jobs to make sure of this. Training was paid and took about a month to complete. After that it was out of the pan and into the fire as they say. Shifts were 12 hours long from 8am to 8pm or 8pm to 8am which always left one absolutely exhausted. Your entire schedule would be fucked and it never helped that Nova Scotia shutdown completely on sundays.

Pay was acceptable (considering minimum wage was probably in the realm of 7 or 8 dollars) however you would have to work at least 3 shifts a week to make a viable living. Your coworkers were generally other students, the elderly or dregs of society. When i say dregs i dont mean convicts, carnies or child molesters, i mean losers. You know, the type that cant, wont and have never had a break. The type that would spend their last cent on an uninsured porsche to impress their exgirlfriend only to crash it on their way to their house (this is another story that was told to me, hilarious, yet depressing, ill try and fit it in somewhere someday if im reminded).

Anyways, back to the job. Usually youd bring your meal with you and sometimes youd get to eat the patients (simply because they didnt want it, not cuz you stole it). You could always bring a book or crosswords and sometimes you could sneak a watch of the patients tv if they were asleep (though we werent supposed to). Day shifts sometimes family would visit so you could go and wander the halls, whereas nightshifts most often pateints would sleep (unless they were suffering from nightterrors).

I do believe that this was my very first patient.
GM enjoyed going for walks and was fresh to the hospital. His family was without a doubt working class and lovely. It comprised of a son and a daughter who were typical eastcoasters in the way that they would talk to you as if they had know you for years. Within the first 30 minutes of meeting them i found out that
(a) the son wanted to get tattoos. These tattoos were to be specifically of the McMahon family on his back with a giant WWE symbol. Ill go ahead and assume he was a wrestling fan.
(b) the daughter was married with one kid. Her husband was a truckdriver 'with an incredible handlebar mustache.'

Ill stop their briefly to publicly chastise myself for not going into detail about his mustache. What did it look like? Whos was it similar to? Were their bits of food stuck in it?

Back to the wife:

She was a sweetheart and her husband was a busdriver.

I will now go into a description of GM.
Apparently he looked vaguely like a mix of Vincent Price and one of my old philosophy professors. He also seemed to enjoy calling me clodhopper as i was noisey.

I do recall (especially as it says in my bloody notes) that late that night as he was tucked in bed he began to talk to my backpack that was sat next to my chair. I then realized that he believed my bag to be a dog. At this point things took a turn for the best.

As i mentioned previously he did enjoy a good walk in the halls and could do so for hours. It was during one of such walks that we encountered another patient (head trauma victim, hes in a later entry, i assure you). The other patient was pretty obviously in rough shape, maniacal grin, drool from the lower lip, shuffling jovially. The two gentlemen stopped and looked each other up and down. It lasted but a moment. As we walked away GM looked at me and said "And ya think Im weird".

PS
He kept his comb in his sock the whole time i was there and would use it periodically.