I am typically called Miss Patricia here -- respectful but friendly. My regular aide let me take a shower again this morning -- first time I've done two days in a row, and I was grateful. It just lifts my spirits.
I told today's respiratory guy that I am Mr. Rupert's favorite -- he's the head of the department, an older Chinese man whom I really like. The respiratory guy said he believes me because he said Mr. Rupert is always asking in meetings, "How is Miss Patricia?"
I have this device, which I've mentioned -- looks like a kazoo -- with difficulty levels from 1 to 6 and it strengthens your diaphragm -- and I'm on level 4 and he said I'm the only one of the residents on this floor on level 4 and I am so stupidly competitive that that made me feel good. Yeah, I can barely haul this old ass around, but damn it, I'm on Level 4 of the P-Flex device.
Just found a picture of it. You breathe in and out through your mouth on the right end, NOT your nose -- hence the nose clips, but Mr Rupert observed me and said I didn't have to wear the nose clips which is good. You turn the dial and the hole you suck air in gets smaller and smaller with each level.
There is an annoying thing that I've observed here which is when the institution fails, it instantly makes up a reason to justify it -- not an excuse -- not like "we forgot" but some reason why what has happened or didn't happen is what should be.
For example, Friday, the institution left my roommate sitting in the hallway in her wheelchair abandoned, but she can't get back into bed by herself without the Hoyer lift. Finally I pointed out to the nurse that she'd been sitting there for an hour waiting to get back in bed, the nurse, in the face of it, says that it's good for my roommate to sit up in a chair -- which may be true -- but there was NO plan for that. I said to my roommate that if that were true, then stick you in front of a tv or in the dayroom (see "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest) or something, not just in the hallway outside our room.
In any event, when you get a meal tray, it comes with a piece of paper listing everything you should have. Today, it was this horrid piece (and really, I am not exaggerating) of "baked ham with Hawaiian sauce" which was the most horrid piece of pieced together bits of ham -- sort of like head cheese with this gelatinous yellow sweet stuff on top. I took one look at it and told the aide that a cat had thrown up on my lunch.
In addition, you got one boiled potato (no seasoning) and green beans (canned). I was supposed to get a piece of bread with one pat of margarine. I was going to skip the bread and put the margarine on the potato. So I pointed out I got no margarine -- nothing -- then I rang the bell -- still nothing and was told that "we don't give margarine at lunch" which is total BS. I said its on the slip of paper. So I surrendered; they took my tray and then when someone came to see why my light (from buzzing) was on, I told the margarine story. She left and came back 10 minutes later with margarine and I said well, the food is gone now -- and she was paralyzed -- couldn't figure out what to do. Said she'd try to find my tray. Uh, no thanks. Meanwhile, my roommate is yelling, "Save it for later."
Precious one effing pat of margarine. Meals take on way more importance than they should and I'm not sure why because I am routinely disappointed.