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Archive for the ‘ Rants ’ Category

It is raining shit up in here!


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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!


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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!


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I just heard the news and again they were discussing the astronaut that let her tool bag float away while working on the space station.  It is reported to have cost a hundred thousand dollars.  This has me thinking of so many questions my leetle head hurts.

Number one, When you are going to send a bag of tools up with a bunch of super geeks to work on things in zero gravity, wouldn’t you consider that maybe it would be good to have something on the bag of tools to tie it off with.  I mean it just seems like it would make working on the space station go much smoother to be able to use both hands instead of one holding the bag and one the tool.  I think NASA needs to hire me to speak for the moral practical majority.  I have tons of good advise for them.

As for the cost of that bag of tools, I’m thinking… Makita?  Snap On?  I mean I cannot conceive of any brand of tools that costs as much as they spent OR couldn’t do what needs to be done in outer space.

So where DO they shop for tools?  Or was it the bag?  If it was the actual bag that costs that much I’m guessing it’s from a high dollar store on 5th Avenue and a knock-off can be found on Harwin here in Houston for a teeny, tiny fraction of the cost.

When NASA hires me that is going to be the first thing I reccomend.

If this much incompetence isn’t enough, when the news guy was finishing up the story he pointed out that the Space Station had been a temporary home for 10 years to people from 15 different continents.

I’ve done what I can and now give up.


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This far into this month, what do you really expect?  Two loads of laundry, cleaned up the kitchen, swept and mopped the living room, (I did the hall and H’s room yesterday), wiped down the doors with Scott’s Liquid Gold, and a host of other mundane, boring, somewhat depressing things.  At least it seems depressing NOW!  Thanks a lot for making me THINK about it!

H had a U.P. and it was handled without incident.  It happened this morning when she woke up and was in the process of doing a poo.  I was instantly alerted to the unfolding situation.  Oh joy.  Oh Gawd!  Just let me finish this cup of coffee! “Oh sure, Henrietta, no problem!”  And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t!

She did the usual thing about talking it to death just because it worries her so much for anything unexpected to happen to her body.  I assured her that everybody poops and she will do it when she has food that is ready to come out the other end.  It’s natural and not a bad thing and yadda, yadda, yadda, we’ve been through this a million times.

On the up side the paranoid little freak is taking it much better than she used to!  No tears or headache pills were needed.  The day progressed as usual and she even got out of bed as usual.

The younger offspring is probably going to suffer an untimely death tomorrow and that will give me something to write about then.  She is about to drive me nuts.  She was fine with me all day and as soon as John gets home she turns on me like a devil child.  And neither one of us can understand why.  It’s not like she’s even pitting us against one another.  John doesn’t put up with her acting like that anymore than I do.  I hope the doctor gave it her best guess cause, I swear, if this medication doesn’t work, she may not live long enough to try any other kind.


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Hello interpeeps!  And how are things for YOU today?  Well, I hope.

John spent all day yesterday slaving away at work trying to get the store “right” for the “company” that was coming today.  In *store name deleted for privacy*-land, “company” is what they call the suits.  Upper class men.  Big-wigs.  Corporate jerks.  Whatev.  Anyway, he went in at 5:00 again this morning and worked his cute hiney off.  Company showed up finally, at about 5:00 this evening.  He called me a little bit ago and said they were making sounds about all going out for food, or drinks or something and he asked me if he should go, should they ask him.

Uh, YES!

I know it seems too obvious to ask the “little wife”, but I know what he was thinking.  He is wiley, that one.  He was thinking that TODAY is Kessa’s birthday and she is now 19 years old and she may be aggravated that he wasn’t here for it and if he can get me to issue a directive that he must do something, (even for the good of us all), then he escapes her wrath.  I fall in the grease.  However, she is an intelligent girl and will realize the importance of what he did so the grease will not be hot.  It could be anywhere from from lukewarm to tepid.  No biggie.

And here is the birthday girl!  I told her she has made me  an old woman.  She laughed!

So, he is off doing… oh, who reeeeeeally knows?  And I am sitting here patiently anticipating some sort of career boost, at least in the near future.  I am telling you, John can be charming.  Really, really charming.  I mean he got me! heh heh heh

Kes went out to eat with her boyfriend and they had a really nice time.  They went to a very nice non-chain Italian restaurant in Houston.  Her sister has already claimed the doggy bag they brought back.

I spent the better part of the early evening with the younger one at the Dr’s office.  I made her an appointment last week and I hated to do it on Kes’s birthday, but this was the first available appointment and she is in need of some anti-depressants.  Kes was understanding about us leaving her here with her grandmother for hours while we sat in the waiting room.

She will benefit from her sister being on antidepressants as much as the rest of us.  I just want to reap the benefits as soon as possible.  Bless her heart, she is a bit of a mess right now.  Only not all the time.  It’s really deceptive with her.  She is giggling and silly one moment and then the next she is the bitch from hell tearing into everybody and on the verge of tears the next moment.  She wants to do nothing but sleep and I’m sure she actually is emotionally exhausted all the time.  But, mostly, I think it’s just that sleep thing that everyone,(?) does when depressed.  Escape.

Remember, I don’t drive and why?  Well, I don’t and all that.  My friend, Lisa took us and came back after eons and picked us up.  Tomorrow the big news is that I am going over to Lisa’s house to help her take aaaaall her stuff out of her kitchen cabinets in order to have the new ones installed on Wednesday.

Now, Lisa is another wiley one and she has been concocting plans to haul Henrietta over there in her car.  A long time ago the plan to haul H anywhere wasn’t that big a deal.  She only weighed about 70-75 lbs when she came to live with us and I just picked her happy little ass up and put her where ever she needed to be.  In the car?  No problem.  Out of the car, back in the wheelchair?  Same thing.  Well, now she’s gotta be about 95 lbs and I have gotten four years older.

She is freakin’ heavy.

So, while there is supposed to be a visit from the Caregiver Provider person tomorrow for three hours, if we run over, we can run here to pick up H and take her with us.  This doesn’t sound like as big a deal as it really is.  H tends to be a bit agoraphobic.  This is why she hasn’t been outside since her last hospital visit.  Well, I don’t think it’s been that long, but it’s been a long time.  About about 6 months, now.

She doesn’t have panic attacks or anything like that, and if she started to I have her trusty ativan to “fix things”.  But, she just finds it very inconvenient.  She “doesn’t want to.”  But I do know the worst thing I can do is to warn her that’s what we’re doing.  If she has time to think about it and ponder all the evil consequences, well, it grows in magnitude until I have been trying to get her to fly to the moon.  Sans spaceship.

So.  Tomorrow will be interesting.  We may not need to bring her over.  But if we do…. it will be interesting.


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