This list is in no particular order.....
Food. While the food at Northwest Hospital is the best hospital food I've ever had, it's still hospital food.
Piss and shit inspections. I had to pee in a "hat" so they could measure my output. I was also not supposed to flush the toilet, but did anyway. When they discovered this I was reprimanded, but that didn't stop me. I was willing to pee in the nasty, stinky, hat, but I draw the line at shit inspection.
Every couple of hours they come in and take your blood pressure, your temperature, and your pulse. Notice I don't blame the Nurses Aides that have to do this; it's just lame that it has to be done.
Hooked up to iv's. After so many rounds of chemo you'd think I'd be used to it, and to a certain degree I am, but it still sucks. Especially at night.
A really, really uncomfortable bed that makes lots of noise. Despite wonderful advances in bed technology, they're still lumpy and made my back and neck ache like crazy.
Nurses and/or assistants who have only a limited understanding of English. I know this sounds racist, but after what I've been through I can't help but be a little peeved. It just seems wrong to put someone in charge of your health and well-being who can't understand most of what you say to them.
Said before, saying again....people employed to take blood draws that can't find a vein to save their lives. I've decided they're sadistic and like to watch people squirm.
An entire staff of people who have no clue what's going on, and yet are entirely in control of your existance.
Being told that you'll have surgery at 12 and not able to eat until afterwards, and then being told the surgery will be later and you'll still have to wait.
Being told day after day that even though you feel better you will have to stay another day.
Loud people in near-by rooms who hoot when the M's score, say "rock on" when their food is delivered, and tell every person that comes into their room about their cool iPhone. I wanted to walk in his room and explain to him the concept of an "inside voice".
Crappy televisions. What's the point of giving me a bunch of channels I don't have at home (Animal Planet rocks!) but on a blurry tv with terrible sound?
....and that's the small corner of hell I've been living in since July 13th. Home now and hoping never to go back but know it's bound to happen sooner or later.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Ode to Shadow
Wolves were my favorite wild animals until I started learning about bats. They still draw my awe for their extreme wildness, their power, their beauty, their sense of community, their important and necessary part in the food chain, and their struggle against all odds to not become something of myth and legend. So when I met one, well he was really only half wolf, I fell in love instantly.
His name was Shadow and he lived in Canada with his people in their home on the edge of a wildlife refuge. This place was so remote it was only accessible by boat despite being completely connected to the mainland. They didn't breed him, (it's illegal to own or breed wolves or part wolves in the US, but I'm not sure what Canadian laws are) they merely provided an excellent home for a creature that would otherwise have been destroyed. Shadow was so gentle and kind and proud and protective that the only thing wolfish about him was his body.
My dad was staying at the home of Shadow's people to take care of him and his pal Bear (dog had huge paws!) while they were on a safari for a month. The whole family went up to visit Dad and once there I pestered my dad to tell me all he knew about Shadow. He told me stories about Shadow chasing away skunks, vandals, coyotes, and even a bear. Every time a boat passed too close to the dock he'd jump up from his place just inside the front door and run as fast as a greyhound down the dock. To see that massive black dog fly down the dock was impressive; to hear him bark was down right bone chilling.
Even as old as he was he still protected his home with all his energy, and that was despite nursing an injured paw. When my little niece stepped on it accidentally he jumped up and barked in her face. Just one bark, one loud, bone chilling wild wolf bark. He couldn't help it, and you'd do the same thing if someone stepped on your injured foot. She couldn't help but be scared, and started to cry. Her mom picked her up and sat with her to calm her down and Shadow followed them and sat at their feet with his head between his front paws. Once my niece calmed down and understood why he had barked she got down and sat next to him to pet him gently. He put his big ol' wolf head in her lap and looked at her with his soulful eyes begging her to forgive him, and I walked away with tears in my eyes.
I spent a good deal of my time up there hanging out with Shadow. He made a nice pillow and liked that I provided a shield from the wild and crazy youngsters running around. As you can see from the picture, when he lay down and stretched out he was almost as big as I was. In the other picture he is sitting in his spot with a full sized couch behind him. I just found out recently that he passed away, so this is my tribute to the gentle wolf that stole my heart.
His name was Shadow and he lived in Canada with his people in their home on the edge of a wildlife refuge. This place was so remote it was only accessible by boat despite being completely connected to the mainland. They didn't breed him, (it's illegal to own or breed wolves or part wolves in the US, but I'm not sure what Canadian laws are) they merely provided an excellent home for a creature that would otherwise have been destroyed. Shadow was so gentle and kind and proud and protective that the only thing wolfish about him was his body.
My dad was staying at the home of Shadow's people to take care of him and his pal Bear (dog had huge paws!) while they were on a safari for a month. The whole family went up to visit Dad and once there I pestered my dad to tell me all he knew about Shadow. He told me stories about Shadow chasing away skunks, vandals, coyotes, and even a bear. Every time a boat passed too close to the dock he'd jump up from his place just inside the front door and run as fast as a greyhound down the dock. To see that massive black dog fly down the dock was impressive; to hear him bark was down right bone chilling.
Even as old as he was he still protected his home with all his energy, and that was despite nursing an injured paw. When my little niece stepped on it accidentally he jumped up and barked in her face. Just one bark, one loud, bone chilling wild wolf bark. He couldn't help it, and you'd do the same thing if someone stepped on your injured foot. She couldn't help but be scared, and started to cry. Her mom picked her up and sat with her to calm her down and Shadow followed them and sat at their feet with his head between his front paws. Once my niece calmed down and understood why he had barked she got down and sat next to him to pet him gently. He put his big ol' wolf head in her lap and looked at her with his soulful eyes begging her to forgive him, and I walked away with tears in my eyes.
I spent a good deal of my time up there hanging out with Shadow. He made a nice pillow and liked that I provided a shield from the wild and crazy youngsters running around. As you can see from the picture, when he lay down and stretched out he was almost as big as I was. In the other picture he is sitting in his spot with a full sized couch behind him. I just found out recently that he passed away, so this is my tribute to the gentle wolf that stole my heart.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Stingy Neddles
When I was young I frequently went on weekend excursions with my best friend Jamie, her mom Lisa, and her little brother Mikey. One weekend in early summer we all piled into Lisa's Chevy Blazer and we took off for Whidbey Island, a frequent destination. This trip we were picking up Jamie's older brother Jesse, who lived with her dad, and bringing him back to the mainland to stay for a few weeks while her dad took an extended trip. When we got to the house we were immediately dispatched outside and out of Lisa's hair for the rest of the afternoon.
With little else to do, we agreed to let Jesse lead us on a hike through the rolling pastures and evergreen forests that make Whidbey Island so picturesque. The weather was sunny and warm but windy as the island typically is. Jesse took us straight into the pastures, weaving over, under and through barbed wire fences. Despite the barriers, we didn't see any livestock, so I wasn't paying very close attention to where I was stepping until I planted a foot into a slick pile of manure. To step in manure is embarrassing enough, but as I tried to step out of it I slipped and dropped a knee into the mess. Now thoroughly mortified and smelling not so pleasant I desperately wanted to return home. I was afraid of getting lost and since no one else wanted to turn back I reluctantly continued on the trek.
I was relieved when we finally reached our destination, a lovely evergreen forest smelling of pine and moss and blessedly free of piles of cow manure. My relief shortly turned to dismay as the skin on my hands, arms and legs began to sting like crazy and white bumps began to appear. It felt like I imagine acid would feel on one's skin, and that in fact was the case for we had just tromped trough a patch of stingy nettles, a short leafy plant native to the Northwest. I had never felt their legendarily painful sting before I was shocked by the agony and immediately began crying. I was not alone in my misery; Jamie was also in pain although not crying as I was. Mikey, who was very little at the time, was wailing at the top of his lungs at the pain. Jesse was indifferent to our discomfort, and seemed to have conveniently managed to avoid the vicious plants. Now I definitely wanted to return to the house as quickly as possible, and was not alone in the sentiment. Jesse assured us that it would take as much time to get home if we continued on so we did. Needless to say no one was having fun anymore. I had managed to stop crying, but just barely. Mikey was inconsolable and hysterical. Jamie was irritated with all of us.
Jesse led us to a shallow icy cold stream that numbed our skin and dulled the pain. Mikey finally calmed down but continued to cry and I was simply relieved to wash some of the cow manure off of me and lessen the pain. Unfortunately we faced a new problem. Mikey wouldn't leave the stream bed because as soon as the water warmed up to our body temperature the pain returned just as painful as before. We still had a ways to go and Mikey wouldn't budge. With sunlight fading fast we knew it wouldn't be long before it would be too dark to see well in the depths of the forest so we spurned Mikey on despite his reluctance. The rest of the journey was a blur of pain, frustration, and bad tempers.
Upon returning, Lisa was furious with Jesse and accused him with intentionally taking us through the nettle patch. He spent the rest of the night in his room, but that didn't seem like a suitable punishment to me. Mikey was immediately placed in an oatmeal, baking soda, or some other equally soothing home remedy bath. I was forced to remain a stinky mess but Lisa did offer to wash my pants for me. Eventually Mikey finished his bath and since neither Jamie nor I wanted to go third, Lisa made us bathe together. I felt a little awkward taking a bath with someone else because that wasn't something I normally did, but the relief from the stingy pain was worth it. I have never been so reluctant to leave the bath tub in all of my life.
With little else to do, we agreed to let Jesse lead us on a hike through the rolling pastures and evergreen forests that make Whidbey Island so picturesque. The weather was sunny and warm but windy as the island typically is. Jesse took us straight into the pastures, weaving over, under and through barbed wire fences. Despite the barriers, we didn't see any livestock, so I wasn't paying very close attention to where I was stepping until I planted a foot into a slick pile of manure. To step in manure is embarrassing enough, but as I tried to step out of it I slipped and dropped a knee into the mess. Now thoroughly mortified and smelling not so pleasant I desperately wanted to return home. I was afraid of getting lost and since no one else wanted to turn back I reluctantly continued on the trek.
I was relieved when we finally reached our destination, a lovely evergreen forest smelling of pine and moss and blessedly free of piles of cow manure. My relief shortly turned to dismay as the skin on my hands, arms and legs began to sting like crazy and white bumps began to appear. It felt like I imagine acid would feel on one's skin, and that in fact was the case for we had just tromped trough a patch of stingy nettles, a short leafy plant native to the Northwest. I had never felt their legendarily painful sting before I was shocked by the agony and immediately began crying. I was not alone in my misery; Jamie was also in pain although not crying as I was. Mikey, who was very little at the time, was wailing at the top of his lungs at the pain. Jesse was indifferent to our discomfort, and seemed to have conveniently managed to avoid the vicious plants. Now I definitely wanted to return to the house as quickly as possible, and was not alone in the sentiment. Jesse assured us that it would take as much time to get home if we continued on so we did. Needless to say no one was having fun anymore. I had managed to stop crying, but just barely. Mikey was inconsolable and hysterical. Jamie was irritated with all of us.
Jesse led us to a shallow icy cold stream that numbed our skin and dulled the pain. Mikey finally calmed down but continued to cry and I was simply relieved to wash some of the cow manure off of me and lessen the pain. Unfortunately we faced a new problem. Mikey wouldn't leave the stream bed because as soon as the water warmed up to our body temperature the pain returned just as painful as before. We still had a ways to go and Mikey wouldn't budge. With sunlight fading fast we knew it wouldn't be long before it would be too dark to see well in the depths of the forest so we spurned Mikey on despite his reluctance. The rest of the journey was a blur of pain, frustration, and bad tempers.
Upon returning, Lisa was furious with Jesse and accused him with intentionally taking us through the nettle patch. He spent the rest of the night in his room, but that didn't seem like a suitable punishment to me. Mikey was immediately placed in an oatmeal, baking soda, or some other equally soothing home remedy bath. I was forced to remain a stinky mess but Lisa did offer to wash my pants for me. Eventually Mikey finished his bath and since neither Jamie nor I wanted to go third, Lisa made us bathe together. I felt a little awkward taking a bath with someone else because that wasn't something I normally did, but the relief from the stingy pain was worth it. I have never been so reluctant to leave the bath tub in all of my life.
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