Tuesday, July 31, 2018
CAPT FLASH
People say I have borderline
personality disorder.
I say there ain't nothing borderline
about it
VENICE BEACH 1987
(Note chalk drawing on ground)
Wednesday, July 25, 2018
BAD NEWS
......the Capt was struck by a stroke
Father,s day, June 17th my son-in-laws mother had a gathering. Eat and drank too much. Went home and got my drawing stuff and went down to the boardwalk for a couple of hours. Walked home with no problem.
Smoked some weed, drank some wine and nodded off. When I woke up to go pee I stumbled. My first thought was too much wine. I managed to get to the toilet and pee. Decided the best move was back to bed.
When I woke in the morning I was very weak and decided I should go to the hospital. I was supposed to get a call to re-certify my food stamps between 9:30 and 11:30 and my daughters nanny was supposed to return the car. She usually came in the morning. I would have her take me to the hospital. The call didn't come, she didn't show. Around three my daughter called to say she wouldn't be there till five. At five she called to say there was car trouble and she would not be there at all. I called a cab and went out front to wait for it. Had no trouble walking.
At the Jersey Shore Medical Center in Neptune, NJ I told the receptionist I thought I had a heart attack. I spent the first night in the emergency room with little sleep. I was then put in an observation unit.
I managed to sleep that night. The first thing to get my attention was a young attractive nurse came into the room and introduce herself as the "stroke manager" (read coordinator) That caught me off guard because that word had different meanings according to the context. Like in golf or a stroke of luck or something you do to someone's ego for a bigger tip. One look at her and the first thing that came to my mind was, see if you can manage to stroke this.
Then they moved in a problem named Charles. They do not allow patients to get out of bed because of the risk of falling. This guy tried all night long to get out of bed. They had an alarm on the bed that went off when he tried to get up.
Then they moved in a problem named Charles. They do not allow patients to get out of bed because of the risk of falling. This guy tried all night long to get out of bed. They had an alarm on the bed that went off when he tried to get up.
They brought in a camera that the guards could see him with. They were in the room off and on all night long. No sleep. The next day his wife showed up. Apparently they were not on good terms because all they did was argue. The next day his girl friend showed up. The way she was coo-cooing you would think they were having sex. I got lucky and was put in a private room. The family visited.
After two weeks I was moved to the acute re-hab center
at Riverview Hospital in Redbank.
Nice room with a view of the Navasink River. It was a wonderful show. The second or third day things went down hill. They moved someone else in. It was a big family, like a circus. They were totally oblivious that this was a hospital and there was another sick person in the room.
He eventually discovered the T.V. but had it on too loud. After awhile he turned it down, then turned it down some more. Then fell asleep and left it on all night long. No sleep.
In the morning I told a nurse. She left some ear phones on his bed. She gave me earphones and ear plugs. The ear phones were broken and the ear plugs didn't work. I heard him say he didn't want to use the earphones. Some people can not sleep without the radio on. They are afraid to be alone. I woke up once and the T.V. was off, but the next time I woke up it was on again.
A doctor came in and asked if everything was O.K. I told him about the problem. He must have been under stress because he flipped out and got six inches from my face. I told him to get out of my face. He notified patient relationship who did come by. I told them this is not A private room. That I also was ill and had a right to peace and quit not to mention the health benefits of a good nights rest. To the doctors credit he did apologize for being abrupt. A euphemism for aggression.
The first couple of nights were the worst. The most retched hacking and coughing all night long. It gradually diminished to a tolerable level.
He was a local car dealer. He had been a diabetic for fifteen years. He recently had open heart surgery then was involved in a auto accident that tore up his surgery and he had to go in for reconstructive surgery. Then he got sick. He was in a hospital for twelve days without being diagnosed. Within 24 hours of being transferred to Riverview he was diagnosed with a stroke.
He had a large family. People were constantly coming and going as if it was his private room. The phone rang constantly. It was like I didn't exist, wasn't there. Near the end four people sat ten feet from me and yacked about everything and anything. Nothing they couldn't have talked about elsewhere that wouldn't have bothered anyone. He never said a word. Finally one of them sed we've been here two hours. I spoke up and sed, that's right, two hours. They left.
I looked into his eyes one time. There was nothing there. It's easy to predict he won't be around long.
Every cloud has a silver lining. For the most part the staff was excellent, but we know there are good and bad in all groups.
The dark spot came one night around eleven. Someone gave me some chicken from a patients bar-b-q. It gave
me diarrhea. The right now kind. I got on the intercom. The nurse came on and asked, "Can I help you?" I told her I needed to go to the restroom. She repeated what she had sed. I repeated my request. Then there was only silence. There was no time to play games. I got out of bed and got to the wheel chair which got me to the walker. Half way to the head I let loose.
A nurse had to clean me up. Let me diverge here for a moment. I'm not the kind of person who needs someone to clean my ass. I didn't need anyone to wait on me. Then this happened and I had to eat humble pie.
A big part of nursing is wiping someones ass and emptying bed pans. Not very glamorous but necessary.
Some of them were saints who accumulated so much good, full filling karma, I'm jealous.
Sal was a tall skinny guy who was not only willing to help
but was sincerely anxious. Nothing was too trivial. Before he left he would always ask if there was anything else.
Lee was a nurses aide, studying to be a nurse who ran a close second to Sal. Always in a good mood and eager to help.
Jenny cleaned my butt so good one time I asked her to marry me.
Also worth mentioning was Sue, Joy and the dark princess
who would come in, in the middle of the night to bring me fresh water and ask if I needed anything.
There were many more who's names I did not get, but sincerely from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
I saved the best for last, Julia the Polish princess a delicate flower was one of my physical therapist. The sight of her help my recovery as much as her sincere caring.
Then there was Ellen another therapist who would hug me spontaneously, call me sweet cheeks and tickle my ears.
In a life devoid of female affection her sincere affectionate hugs were like water in a desert and contributed more to my recovery than anything else. We exchanged energy. A
special thanx to her.
After one month I was discharged July 18th.
This has been a real wake up call. The end approaches. Time becomes more precious. Things that once were important no longer matter. Going to the shore for long walks on the boardwalk is history.
I was very active. Un-like the other seniors who cluster in the lobby with their wheel chairs, walkers and blank looks on their faces while they wait to die. I would stroll thru the lobby like a teenager, smug in my arrogant pride.
Now the chickens have come home to roost. It's all I can do to hobble around my cell. The good news is the computer is ten feet from my bed and it is a portal to the world. I still have the use of my right arm which means I can drive, use the computer and do art.
They say when you get older challenges keep the mind sharp. I look upon this as a stroke of luck. New challenges
to grow with. No more walking to the market and cooking. Gotta' figure out something new.
NOTE: Hospitals are not conducive to healing. The bed was un-comfortable. When your weak, rolling over is like trying to go swimming with a fur coat on. There are constant disruption from noisy neighbors to people wanting to stick a needle in you at 6 A.M. for blood not to mention the blood pressure machine every twenty mins of your waking hours.
A doctor came in and asked if everything was O.K. I told him about the problem. He must have been under stress because he flipped out and got six inches from my face. I told him to get out of my face. He notified patient relationship who did come by. I told them this is not A private room. That I also was ill and had a right to peace and quit not to mention the health benefits of a good nights rest. To the doctors credit he did apologize for being abrupt. A euphemism for aggression.
The first couple of nights were the worst. The most retched hacking and coughing all night long. It gradually diminished to a tolerable level.
He was a local car dealer. He had been a diabetic for fifteen years. He recently had open heart surgery then was involved in a auto accident that tore up his surgery and he had to go in for reconstructive surgery. Then he got sick. He was in a hospital for twelve days without being diagnosed. Within 24 hours of being transferred to Riverview he was diagnosed with a stroke.
He had a large family. People were constantly coming and going as if it was his private room. The phone rang constantly. It was like I didn't exist, wasn't there. Near the end four people sat ten feet from me and yacked about everything and anything. Nothing they couldn't have talked about elsewhere that wouldn't have bothered anyone. He never said a word. Finally one of them sed we've been here two hours. I spoke up and sed, that's right, two hours. They left.
I looked into his eyes one time. There was nothing there. It's easy to predict he won't be around long.
Every cloud has a silver lining. For the most part the staff was excellent, but we know there are good and bad in all groups.
The dark spot came one night around eleven. Someone gave me some chicken from a patients bar-b-q. It gave
me diarrhea. The right now kind. I got on the intercom. The nurse came on and asked, "Can I help you?" I told her I needed to go to the restroom. She repeated what she had sed. I repeated my request. Then there was only silence. There was no time to play games. I got out of bed and got to the wheel chair which got me to the walker. Half way to the head I let loose.
A nurse had to clean me up. Let me diverge here for a moment. I'm not the kind of person who needs someone to clean my ass. I didn't need anyone to wait on me. Then this happened and I had to eat humble pie.
A big part of nursing is wiping someones ass and emptying bed pans. Not very glamorous but necessary.
Some of them were saints who accumulated so much good, full filling karma, I'm jealous.
Sal was a tall skinny guy who was not only willing to help
but was sincerely anxious. Nothing was too trivial. Before he left he would always ask if there was anything else.
Lee was a nurses aide, studying to be a nurse who ran a close second to Sal. Always in a good mood and eager to help.
Jenny cleaned my butt so good one time I asked her to marry me.
Also worth mentioning was Sue, Joy and the dark princess
who would come in, in the middle of the night to bring me fresh water and ask if I needed anything.
There were many more who's names I did not get, but sincerely from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
I saved the best for last, Julia the Polish princess a delicate flower was one of my physical therapist. The sight of her help my recovery as much as her sincere caring.
Then there was Ellen another therapist who would hug me spontaneously, call me sweet cheeks and tickle my ears.
In a life devoid of female affection her sincere affectionate hugs were like water in a desert and contributed more to my recovery than anything else. We exchanged energy. A
special thanx to her.
After one month I was discharged July 18th.
This has been a real wake up call. The end approaches. Time becomes more precious. Things that once were important no longer matter. Going to the shore for long walks on the boardwalk is history.
I was very active. Un-like the other seniors who cluster in the lobby with their wheel chairs, walkers and blank looks on their faces while they wait to die. I would stroll thru the lobby like a teenager, smug in my arrogant pride.
Now the chickens have come home to roost. It's all I can do to hobble around my cell. The good news is the computer is ten feet from my bed and it is a portal to the world. I still have the use of my right arm which means I can drive, use the computer and do art.
They say when you get older challenges keep the mind sharp. I look upon this as a stroke of luck. New challenges
to grow with. No more walking to the market and cooking. Gotta' figure out something new.
NOTE: Hospitals are not conducive to healing. The bed was un-comfortable. When your weak, rolling over is like trying to go swimming with a fur coat on. There are constant disruption from noisy neighbors to people wanting to stick a needle in you at 6 A.M. for blood not to mention the blood pressure machine every twenty mins of your waking hours.
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