Sometimes when I roll away
Sometimes when I roll away I remember in acute detail that I am handicapped and that the possibility of me ever walking again are slim to none. Of course immediately I hear the little voice telling me to never give up, always keep up the fight, blah, blah, blah.
Some days I just want to tell that little voice to shut the fuck up and start giving me examples of how to live wheelchair bound.
It’s actually closer than I ever imagined. Freedom, finally I will live free possibly for the first time. I just need to be patient and heal from this madness right now. It’s time for silence, meditation and traveling beyond this human body and finding the Buddha light, sound, smell, touch, all of it. Finding complete consciousness. To be one with the all.
That being said…
I heard the slurred speech. The violet talk. The threats and the name calling and I didn’t really believe that this was something that would go on in a facility like this, but here it was.
I quit drinking a long time ago. I am not at all happy being holed up in a place like this but I am here. I do believe that the one thing that we should not be subjected to are drunks in a facility like this.
Many will find offense with it but I would much rather be around stoners than drunks. Stoners don’t get violent. Drunks do.
Earlier one of the residents, an older woman, the one that sounds like she is crying when she talks was in rare form singing all kinds of songs, screaming and yelling and calling all the black patients and help the “n” word and finally undressing and wheeling around.
They took care of this and sent her to Harding which is the mental institution here in Columbus. This situation should have been just as easy to resolve.
The help is stressed and legitimately frightened. None of the equipment works. The clientele are all frustrated and trying to make sense of what brought them to this and here we are with things going on that just don’t need to be here.
My roommate is of course dealing with it the way he deals with everything. He is whispering to himself and eating junk food while listening to preachers and religious freaks fill his head with nonsense.
I have never felt so trapped right now in my entire life. I feel like there is no one to turn to. Nothing to believe in. I am frightened and angry and hurt.
Well now he’s snoring again.
My brother called me a brat the other day. I wondered if brats were always people who had trouble expressing their needs. If they were people who lived in constant fear and confused emotionally. I wondered if there was any way of expressing this in a way that made sense that was acceptable.
Right now I hate everyone here. I hate everybody.
The only people that matter in my life are my daughter and grandson and my brother and his family and they are not here.
For some reason the drunk asshole has copped an attitude with me and I have not done or said nothing. It makes me so angry. Actually fills me with rage. If he actually would come at me I am a little worried at what I may do in response?
Actually he is basically being an asshole to everyone. He is actually being a dick with ears to this one nasty old fuck that I can’t stand. I wouldn’t mind seeing both of these fuckers get what’s coming to them but alas even the Columbus Police show up and won’t do anything about it. So a handful of us are up watching the freak show while my roommate just keeps fucking snoring that fucking nasal snotty snore.
God I hate this fucking place. I hate what my life has become right now. I don’t know who to blame. Do I blame myself? Do I blame bad luck or the evil MRSA? Do I blame karma or do I blame God?
I went to my appointment with no sleep, well a couple hours and I met a very nice doctor. One of the doctors that operated on me, the four operations that followed the botched operation in Lima. My reason for meeting this man today was a follow-up on whether I needed one more operation and the answer was no. I ask this brilliant man a simple question and his answer was an obvious no.
I let his assistant wheel me to the front of the building and I began to sob uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t care who saw me. The full weight of the last year and however many months came crashing down.
The fact that this man with his years as a surgeon and doctor and his experience with my type of operation made it a simple statement “I am of the opinion that you will never walk again.”
Of course it’s an opinion but it fit my own feelings of how my body was healing. I was also of the opinion that I would probably never walk again and it was time to learn how to live independently without the ability of walking and this might mean more time in rehabilitation and assisted care which at least would be a small single room apartment where I would be alone.
I would be able to come and go as I please and still have the nursing care there at all times when at my home away from home. The next step would be my own apartment with in home nursing, physical therapy and transportation which would lead into complete independence.
I spent the afternoon with my daughter Sunflower and my grandson Wyeth.
It was a wonderful time spent chasing Wyeth from one end of the facility to the other. Wyeth can dismantle the visiting room in a New York minute but it’s fun watching him as his face smiles and he runs his mother and grandpa ragged.
I have dreams of living here again and being able to catch the Special Cota bus down to my daughters and spending the afternoon out in the yard of my daughter’s place with her and Wyeth. It will be a safe afternoon with familiar surroundings and no crazy old people to distract from out visit. I am selfish when it comes to the visitation time I spend with both of these very special people.
Even though my life right now is far from perfect. I do see things changing for the better. They aren’t happening as fast as I may like but there still is a forward progress taking place.
My daughter and grandson make me want to get better.
I want to prove that very intelligent doctor completely dead wrong when it comes to me.