Archive for January, 2009

It is raining shit up in here!

This morning long before H was up the nurse called and said she was bringing by some supplies for me and doing a “supervisory visit”.  Well, this is all new to me.  I told her that the other nurse was just out here day before yesterday and they only come about once a month, unless there is something wrong and I call them.  She was surprised and said she was just supposed to bring by some supplies anyway.  I couldn’t imagine what, but told her to come on along.

She showed up in a few minutes and went on in to wake up and see H.  I went about my business and saw no reason to go in as there was no need for me to stand and scream what the nurse was saying at H because the nurse is too lazy to raise her voice and do it herself interpretation.  Sometimes Henrietta is having a particular complaint that she wants to address and so I go in and relay the answers back to her, but not today.  Not that I knew of.

She stayed back there talking to her, taking her vitals and getting information about the frequency, size, shape, color, smell and over all IQ of her stools.  I know this because the neighbors at the end of the street could hear her screaming the questions.  When every last bit of info about the poo, (classified and otherwise), was gathered.  She emerged victorious and held out two plastic bags to me proudly saying, “Here, I brought you supplies.”

Does it make me a bad person that my gut instinct, first response was, “You got booze in there?”

I took the bags and judged by weight and size of the bulges that there were several catheters, a box of latex gloves, and about 3 sterile catheter kits.

The latex gloves were a bit of a surprise and I am guessing the nice lady in the office, Paula had included them for me as that’s not part of the deal.  We are expected to buy our own gloves and I go through a shitload of them.  Hahaha!  Did you see what I did there?  I use the gloves to change shitty diapers and empty bedpans and I said I go through a shitload of them!  Hahahaha!  OK, maybe the shit jokes are a bit dense around here, but so is the shit.  (I bet that nurse didn’t even ask about density….)

Then the nurse leaves and almost immediately Henrietta rings the bell.  I go to see what’s up and am a bit surprised she rang and I hadn’t had time to get her breakfast in to her yet.

“Krissa, I hate to tell you this, but I have a dirty diaper.  That stuff just came out all of the sudden!”

It’s always called “that stuff”.  She has never referred to the poo as anything other than “stuff” once it has happened.

I must admit it helps to think of it this way…

So I assure her that it’s all OK and we set about the business of cleaning it up.  I see fairly soon that the reason she was so unaware of the situation is that it’s very loose.  (Am I getting too graphic, yet?  Cause I don’t mean to be, but really… YOU weren’t here cleaning this old lady’s butt up and changing gloves and swiping her with the required lotion.  SO DON’T JUDGE.)

We got done with that and I brought her the first course.  Oatmeal with a few cut up prunes and a dose of Miralax.

Now I know what you’re thinking.  Why would Krissa give H the Miralax if she just had a U. P. that was loose?

Well, my pretties, it’s like this.  It doesn’t matter what I do.  I’m screwed.

I have tried cutting off the fiber and shit-making producers as soon as there is any kind of disturbance in the digestive-go-about before.  It is all for not.  There would be an Abrupt Poop Stoppage and massive discomfort.

So we don’t do that anymore.  I mean the APS wouldn’t happen until the next day, but it WOULD happen.

Aaaaanywaaaay, I got her all cleaned and lotioned up and she has the rest of her breakfast.  An egg, breakfast sausage and an oven roll with a bit of jelly.   Of course, the U.P. has set her off her game and she prefers to stay in bed for the rest of the day.

Whatever.

A few hours later she rings for me to come in there and she has had another poopy diaper.

Well, shit.  I am just elbow deep in it today.

The day progresses and eventually I bring her in her supper.  (She never eats lunch and considering she doesn’t get up until noon, I can pretty much see why.

Remember she is being sickly today and playing it up big time.  No other complaints other than she is poopy.  Literally.  She wonders aloud numerous times what is the matter with the poops and why “all that stuff just keeps coming out…”.  I clearly have no new answers and have told her repeatedly that it’s OK.  Nothing to worry about.  Same ol’ same ol’…

Well, tonight I took her in the loaded toothbrush, fresh water, her two pills and a napkin and spit bowl.  She told me that when she was coughing during her soup she may have messed up her diaper.

So I peel it all back and there it is.  POOP.  From The Endless Font of Poopage.  AGAIN.

So I changed her again.  And ran like hell.

I want the hell out of here people!  I need a makeover!  WITH NO POOP!  Or even mudpacks, cause I don’t even think I like chocolate anymore due to the color and texture…..

THE POST IN WHICH I ALMOST DIE!

LOOK WHAT HAPPENED TO ME YESTERDAY.

I casually, even innocently, strolled to the cabinet that holds the precious black ground up goodness that gets me through the day.  I reached for the container and put it down on the counter, opened it up and…

CUE THE SCARY MUSIC.

This is what I found.  EMPTY. (Note: that word is in italic, bold, caps AND underlined. That is how it sounded in my little caffeine starved head.)

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!  I called John immediately and he dropped the phone cause I was still in screaming mode assured me calmly that he would bring home coffee when he was off work.

It was a very trying day.  I cried when I broke my fingernail and in hindsight that seems a tad dramatic, but at the time, there REALLY WAS NOTHING ELSE TO DO.  My whole day was in capitol letters. The strange little dogs hid from me the whole time.  I choose to think that my not having coffee was…depressing them and they just wanted to hide from… the whole world.  Yeah.  That’s it.

There were headache pills and Henrietta was a pill AND a headache.  I had tea with her and it always does help, but I still needed my coffee!

For once, John’s ridiculously long work day was longer for me than him.  YES IT WAS, JOHN!  Finally he came home and “delivered the goods”.  No.  That is not a sexy euphemism.  He brought the coffee and he KNEW that there was no coming home without it.  As a matter of fact he had to show me the bag of perfectly ground beans before he was allowed through the door.  I snatched the bag and ran to see my best friend the coffee maker.  With trembling hands, (and a silent prayer that John would quit trying to kiss me hello- Don’t make that face! He was getting in my way!), I carefully scooped the grounds right out of the bag into the precious magic machine.  Turned on the water right next to the maker of miracles and stretched out the faucet hose to fill it with water.  With a quivering finger I pushed the “ON” button.  Tears of joy escaped down my face as the tortured day came to an end and the black liquid gold ran into the pot.  Soon I was pouring a cup and blowing frantically/burning my tongue because I couldn’t wait.  I didn’t care.  The best reason to burn my tongue ever.

Today?  Got up, made coffee, ran the dishwasher, read the paper…  You know, same ol’, same ol’…

Free toes, everybody!

Defeated? Who, ME?

Does it make me a defeatist to not make any resolutions just because I already know what has to be done and for some reason it doesn’t seem like “declaring” it will make any difference one way or the other?

Oh.

It does?

OK, well in the spirit of reform, here goes:

1. Lose more weight.  (Yeah.  I know.  Super original.)

2. Sell approximately half the crap in this house on ebay, cause people, we are knee deep in shitola we don’t need.  And did I mention that we are up to our…well, let’s just say above the knees in bills?

3. Get Henrietta a job cause man, she needs to start pulling her weight around here!  I’m thinking nothing too harsh, (on account of her advanced age), maybe something in the area of construction work?

4. Get John to gain the weight back that he’s lost cause while he looks super hawt and is a complete turn on, I don’t need the added pressure to lose my weight.  I mean, who wants to compete with that?

5. Cook more often.  I am bad about not preparing a meal for the whole family.  I mean they’re never all here at the same time anyway, but maybe if I cooked one of the…probably, like…THREE things they can all agree on twice a week, well that’s almost a whole week’s worth of meals right there.  *…dirty bastards…*

6. Once every month six months OK, once a year at least, dust my ceiling fan blades.  Cause, I mean if I were to get all the dust and dog hair down off of those bad boys, you guys, there is an entire small dog up there.  FREE PET!  That’s what I’m thinking!

7. I really, really know I could solve many of the Lopez family’s, nay! the WORLD’S problems if I were allowed to stay in bed even later in the morning.  You know how when you first wake up and are laying there half awake and partly asleep, and the rest of you God only knows where, your mind is so clear and little things that you didn’t even know were plaguing you are suddenly solved and you can see so clearly what to do?  The lists of things that you have been forgetting about for days are suddenly front and foremost in your mind and the first thing you are going to take care of when you get up.  Well, this kind of clarity does not happen when the alarm clock wakes you up.  Oh, no, people.  You must rouse slowly and have time to ponder… oh, I dunno, shit like peace in the middle east, world hunger, the national deficit, putting dog food on the grocery list.  The ideas I have to fix all of these things are nothing less than BRILLIANT, right before I have to wake fully and get up. I am willing to stay in bed as late as it takes and fall asleep and wake back up as often as I have to until we get some firm answers to some of the most difficult problems.  I will make the sacrifice to get these things taken care of.  On the surface these answers may seem a bit bizarre, but I AM TELLING YOU, In the dream I was having this morning, feeding the dog Styrofoam packing peanuts was BRILLIANT!

8.  OK.  Here’s the deal.  There is no number 8.  If I think of anything when I wake up tomorrow morning I’ll be aaaaaall over it.

If anyone has any personal crisis’s that you would like me to address, I’ll do my best and as soon as the vital sleep cycle has taken place I’ll get back to you.

Party at Henrietta's house!

Hello and happy new year to you!  I really do hope everyone got dug out and had a good time last night!

John and I made our way to Friendswood where we attended the same New Year’s shindig we go to almost every year that some good friends have.  There was much fireworks, drinking, (by some), and carrying on.

Before we left I questioned Henrietta to ascertain whether or not she wanted to wait up for us or go to bed a little early and watch TV in there.  I felt certain she would want to be put in bed and sure enough, she did.  Keelan was staying home and does not do transfers, (I feel quite certain that she would like me to point out at this time she does not do diapers or bedpans either.), so John and I took her in and put her to bed.

After I had brought her her toothbrush and pills and refilled her water glass, changed her diaper and put on her nightgown, I made a big production of checking her window and making sure it was locked.  I then took her wheelchair from the usual resting spot and parked it as far away from her as possible.  She was watching me silently.  Then when I looked at her she said, “Krissa, what on earth are you doing?”

I said, “I’m just making sure that you don’t have a bunch of men in here for cocktails tonight while we’re gone!”

She grinned really big, chuckled and said, “I MIGHT!”