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
Friday, December 05, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
In the Grandeur scheme of things
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!!!!
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
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...
SeeqPod - Playable Search
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...
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Amputations galore
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Not terribly demanding/Forget me not
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.
SeeqPod - Playable Search
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.
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Friday, October 10, 2008
Poop and prejudice
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.
SeeqPod - Playable Search
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.
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Unsolved Mysteries
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).
SeeqPod - Playable Search
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).
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Nice Ol Fella
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)
SeeqPod - Playable Search
*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.
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)
SeeqPod - Playable Search
*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.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Ghost Month, Day, Year
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)
SeeqPod - Playable Search
-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)
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Mullets, Mustaches and Monster Trucks
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.
SeeqPod - Playable Search
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.
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Wee Willie Winkie
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.
SeeqPod - Playable Search
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.
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
BK Breakfast sandwiches
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?
SeeqPod - Playable Search
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?
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Monday, August 18, 2008
When 2 become 1
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
SeeqPod - Playable Search
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
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Monday, August 04, 2008
Original Introduction/Okie
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.
SeeqPod - Playable Search
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.
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Brain dead
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).
SeeqPod - Playable Search
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).
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Lazy Prick
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?!?!?!")
SeeqPod - Playable Search
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?!?!?!")
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Thursday, July 10, 2008
JC
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.
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.
Monday, July 07, 2008
CJ
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
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
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Scotch (aka The Major)
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
My Elderly Lover
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Deathbed
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
DM 2
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
DM I
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.
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.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Sweet Sweet WS
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.
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.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
DF
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
JR
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
OS
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.
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.
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