Thanks, but no thanks. Not only am I stuck in a long-term care facility in Thornton, CO, I strongly disagree that there is any need for a Community Oversight Board.
The Homeless Philosopher’s presence sure would give the Far Left cop-haters a bellyache, but it’s not for me.
Man, what a f***ed-up night. Not a wink of sleep, because the nurse on duty yesterday evening turned my roommate Gandhi’s TV up loud, on the country music network, then nobody would agree to turn it off all night. My roommate is unaware of his surroundings, and gained nothing by the TV ruining my sleep, but what really set me off into a profane verbal bashing of Hungry Asylum was a CNA telling me that he had the “right” to do so.
He had nothing to do with it!
I’m afraid I called her and everyone else in authority here by some choice epithets. By 7AM, I took matters into my own hands and turned off his TV, apparently disconnecting it from cable in the process — but he doesn’t care and nobody else has said another word to me.
I believe that everyone, including me, has the RIGHT to peace and quiet and lights out at a reasonable hour, say 10PM. I respect others in this regard, and I expect the same from them in return.
I napped for about three hours this morning, and I do feel better now.
What’s also beyond stupid is the fact that this facility neglected a small bedsore on Gandhi’s butt when he first arrived here, let him lie on his back 24/7 for over two weeks, until it’s now a big putrefied mess that may kill him before his other terminal condition (whatever it may be) does.
And some damn fool wants to talk about his right to have his TV turned up loud all night long? He’s not paying any attention to it, anyway.
My roommate Gandhi has a very serious bedsore on his butt from lying flat on his back in bed for 2+ weeks since arriving at Hungry Asylum. It’s putrefying, and there’s almost no flesh there to begin with as he weighs only 100 pounds. I feel sorry for him; at the same time I hate the morons running this place for turning my room into Hospice Care. I lost my appetite and couldn’t eat breakfast, started muttering to myself, and the nurse (who is ordinarily okay) wanted to give me attitude. “Go talk to [the social worker],” she said. F*** the social worker. She and the others of her ilk are what is making this facility FUBAR. There’s another wing for dying residents, and Gandhi belongs there in a private room, where he can fade away in peace — without my bad attitude and the lack of palliative care from doctors and nurses in this unit.
They tried giving him a bed bath a while ago, while I was busy taking a shower. He was lying there twisted up like a pretzel with one deathly skinny leg folded underneath him, and the other off to the side. There is no amount of soap and water on earth that can wash away the odor of rotten flesh, and he needs to go back to the hospital NOW. At the very least, doctors there could pump him so full of narcotic painkillers he won’t suffer much at all.
It’s forecast to get very cold tonight and tomorrow, and I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep my window wide open. I’m concerned that Gandhi will suffer in the cold, since he prefers to be naked except for an adult diaper. Maybe I’ll close the window and sleep out in the hall, until they tell me to go back into my room.
(At which point, I may peel the paint off the walls with my angry, profane response.)
(Insert racist joke about ObamaCare in this space.)
No room trays delivered on my hall until about 8:45AM, after those who go to the dining room to eat had already been chowing down for almost an hour. This is, unfortunately, a longstanding pattern and no amount of complaining through channels (nor by blogging) seems to effect any change for the better.
I took the lid off my plate as soon as my tray was delivered, to find a single piece of french toast and one fried egg. Both were cold. I did get enough syrup for half-a-dozen pieces of french toast, however, so I ate the excess with a spoon. I didn’t really want the egg, because those are starting to upset my digestive system and I intend to do without hen fruit for a while in hopes of returning to a calmer state. Coffee, naturally, was lukewarm — but the cold orange juice was good.
It’s like I haven’t eaten anything at all. The CNA just gave me a couple of bananas, in sympathy with my grievance against the stingy bastards working in the kitchen here. I’ll save one and eat the other now. I’ll also have to eat one of my spare bowls of corn flakes kept for emergencies like this.
My roommate Gandhi, who has eaten very little since his arrival 2 1/2 weeks ago, weighs only 100 pounds. He looks like one of those pitiful Nazi concentration camp survivors we’ve all seen photos of, except that he’s no longer able to stand up on his own:
My room is NOT for Hospice Care, but apparently they accepted Gandhi on very short notice and they believe I’m so laid back I’ll put up with any kind of a roommate, even an old man who has one foot in the grave.
I hate this facility now. Perhaps I’ll be able to shower tomorrow morning (only two showers per week) without having to wait an hour for a CNA to be free, because they don’t trust me to shower by myself.
Why do all nearly institutional settings for the poor and homeless insist on degrading those living within their walls? Even in Missouri DOC I could shower every morning, before going to my full-time job as a GED tutor. True, I’d rather be here at Hungry Asylum than back in prison, but most of all I want to be back outdoors again at my homeless campsite in north Boulder with the wild critters and fresh air.
Addendum: Lunch didn’t arrive until 1PM for those of us who request room trays, again about an hour after residents in the dining area were served. No cole slaw as promised, no dessert, 1/2 slice of plain white bread with a scant portion of lukewarm fried potatoes and a fair amount of smoked sausage with peppers and onions. I know damn good and well that those folks in the dining room got seconds, and a lot of food was wasted there. (Even in prison back in Missouri, everyone received the same portions, or inmates working and cheating in the serving line would be handcuffed and taken away to Administrative Segregation for 30 days.)