I used to write really crappy poetry.Well, when put that way, it sort of sounds like I USED to write really crappy poetry but now I write AWESOME poetry!Yeah, no.It means I used to attempt to write some kind of weird poetry and it was shitty and it sucked and now I don't do that anymore, much to the relief of everyone who accidentally read it when they came here to see what was new....more
I was going through some old paper work and I found the billing information and the health care directive of my brother. Since, I had many problems, with insurance issues I found this very intresting. I was my brothers, health care agent, as I mention in another blog....more
Poor hand-washing likely led to spread of rare infection at Royal Alexandra Hospital "Poor hand-washing rates in Edmonton and Alberta hospitals contributed to the spread of multi-drug-resistant bacteria that infected several people and likely played a part in the death of a Royal Alexandra Hospital patient. ...more
It's been ten days now since my 89-year-old mother fell, broke her hip, and landed in the hospital via the ER. And thus I'm in my second week of being completely torn between my mother's and my family's total need of me.
To say I am nearly being ripped apart by this is an understatement.
My friend Ches asked me this:I'd like to hear about the births of your babies and how you felt staying in the hospital. Was it stressful? Or did you not even care because, you know, you just gave birth and all. :) Did you obsessively watch the nurses/doctors to make sure they washed and hand sani-ed before they came into your room?Oh boy. This is a great question, and MAN does it bring back memories.So, in a nutshell, I spent the entire time in the hospital freaking the fuck out....more
My watch says 3 AM. But ER time is timeless time. The lights always on full bore. The always ignored monitor alarms calling out their ceaseless beep beep beeyoups, making sleep near impossible in this place where it is so desperately needed by all. The cots have thinned out by now, their former residents lost to beds upstairs or returned to the street beyond. Thankfully tonight's more than full share of screamers and moaners, the deeply pained and the ecstatically crazed have been among the dispatched. ...more
My husband is a very private man. I am not. His 93-year-old mother went into the hospital a week ago Monday, and she is gravely ill.
As my father passed away just this past March, at a similar advanced age, of a very similar condition, after spending much time at the same hospital, seeing some of the same doctors, you can see I might be having a lot of feelings right now.
It was time for the phone calls. My sister and I took the quarters that we’d gotten from the cafeteria earlier in the day, literally dozens of them, to the bank of payphones down the hallway from the surgical waiting room. We had told everyone else to go ahead and go home; there was nothing else to do here until she could see people, tomorrow. Tonight she would be in the ICU, no visitors save for family, and so there was no point....more
The surgery was taking forever. What did that mean? We’d spent all late morning and afternoon in the surgical waiting room. The gravity of the situation was clear by the crowd assembled this time. My sister and I started the vigil, but people came and went to sit with us as the hours passed. My brother joined us midday.My friend Karen came for a few hours, some of my mother’s girlfriends came and went, and my sister’s husband was there. We watched the same scenario play out all day long: family members would be sitting in small groups,whispering or talking or watching the endless supply of daytime television until a doctor would come to the room and speak a patient’s name out loud. Then the doctor would stride over to the group that made themselves known and deliver the news that the surgery was over, that it went as expected, that the patient was in the recovery room now, and it would be minutes/hours before they could see their loved one....more
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