September 3rd (Sunday)
I've been stuck in bed for the past six days. Something went wrong, likely initiated by my new feeding formula.
I had "the runs" for 24-hours, and ever since, I've felt exhausted, poisoned, and shaky. I sweat profusely when sitting upright. And my bloating and stoma pain are borderline unmanageable.
This is how I used to feel when I first became ill, way back when (minus the feeding tube complications). Of course, I am feeling defeated. How do I fix this? What exactly is wrong with me? Am I back to being bed bound again forevermore?
I am extremely unhappy right now, in this moment.
More
I must manually inject my feeding formula (Liquid Hope) into my feeding tube every 30 minutes or so - because the formula doesn't flow through the feeding pump apparatus (too thick / coagulates in a short period of time). The Nestle Compleat (Peptide 1.5) was the offending feeding formula. I think. The one that gave me diarrhea and made me sick like this. And then I had a bottle of Kate Farms overnight and I'm having terrible pain and bloating as a result (not that the Compleat was any better).
So yes, it's got to use the Liquid Hope going forward. And I've got to manually feed myself at least once at short intervals if I even hope to approach 1500 calories per day.
Since I'm in bed all the time (again), I've really got nothing better to do. I had my year's long run of fun, and just enough freedom to make my life temporarily satisfying. That was my gift. Now it seems I may be through with that. Indeed, life is killing me again (hopefully, ideally, only temporarily!!!).
September 5th (Tuesday)
It's been eight days now. And I'm still grounded - my body failing me, yet again (mostly just exhaustion and weakness now). But still, I try not to consider my sudden unceremonious demise. Considering anything at all (right now) is upsetting. So I forage ahead. Yes, that's exactly what I am doing. I am foraging for minute-to-minute sustenance (on all fronts). Ideals and ideas to latch onto. Items and objectives to have and to hold.
I received my zinc supplement this morning. I am half assuming my lethargy is related to sudden zinc depletion after my recent excrement implosion. At least, I hope it's something simple like that. Or possibly covid-19. That could be the cause, right?
No fever during my ordeal, but I did have chills the day before "the runs" kicked in. And then also (hours after my bout initiated), a several hours long headache, wherein I experienced shooting raw nerve-like pains throughout… my skull being exceptionally sensitive to physical touch (or even gentle pressure exerted).
Odd components.
Not Alone
I'm earmuffed in the moment, listening to a song ("Bete Immonde") by Griiim. Black Metal. That's the genre. My roommate is in the midst of his in-room therapy session, so I give him his privacy by forfeiting my quietude. And now it's into the chaotic microtonal metal abyss with Jute Gyte's "At the Limit of Fertile Land."
If I'm going to blot out sonic intrusiveness to the fullest, I might as well do it right.
Hmmm… only 37 minutes left in his therapy session.
Oh, and as of 23 minutes ago, I no longer have access to the Star Trek franchise. My former roommate (Sam the Deceased) must have let his subscription lapse (and truly I don't blame him, something he may not have foreseen). And truly, I rely upon the many iterations of Star Trek for my daily dose of screen time - something to watch that's not all that taxing, yet still satisfying on all the necessary levels.
I've still got Netflix access, though. Perhaps venturing forth and back into Asian content could/should be on the agenda… sometimes the subtitles don't cut it.
Oh, Deceased Sam's widowed bride broke both of her legs crashing her power chair (not too long ago). She tried to make a right angled sidewalk turn, clipped the edge, and went slightly off into the gravel. With the sudden weight shift, she tumbled out of her chair, and then the 400-lb behemoth landed on top of her.
14 Minutes Left
And a therapy person suddenly appears (the one with a good case of the smiles), asking to get my bodily weight. But I am not getting out of bed today, so no scale excursion for me.
And it seems my roommate's therapy session ended. No one told me. I was halfway through "Interstitial Parasite" by Natanas when —
Excess Wait
I pushed my "help" button at 0931 hours (well before the therapy session). It's now 11:37 a.m. (an hour after my roommate's therapy session concluded). If you do the math, that's over two hours of waiting. However, if you do the meth, you don't sleep for several days running.
Foreboding / Forewarning
One of the dedicated super CNA's from Unit 1 was assigned to our area this morning. But, that's not a good thing. My initial assumption had me believing she was being punished - likely for working too hard, and showing up (lazy / unmotivated) others.
"They took me off the schedule for October, all except five shifts!" The conversation began.
You see, she and The Scheduler do not see eye to eye. For some reason, The Scheduler dislikes this favored former Employee of the Month All-star CNA. Beyond that, any rhymes or reasons (on my behalf) are purely speculation. So I choose not to speculate. But there is a certain type, a certain kind of person who seems to be unfairly treated. And usually these types are my types - the kind of female employee I myself would hire on / regularly deploy.
In any case, it seemed as though there would be some kind of in-person confrontation sooner than later. And based on the result (our CNA no longer being here), I'm assuming she walked out - walked off the job.
So that was likely two hours ago. In the meantime, no one else picked up this area, or got reassigned to take care of us. Which isn't unusual. That's par for the course in our section. We have a veritable murders row amongst the rooming residents - basically, we're the neediest of them all!
But the thing that's funnier than funny is that after waiting and waiting and waiting, I finally called up to the nurses station directly, and within two minutes, someone was in the room taking care of us. Clearly, they saw my caller id on the nurse station phone. Realizing there's "Howard" involvement, they saddled up and got on their horses.
The main concern from my end involved my urinal being filled to the brim - you know, those plastic bedside things they have in the hospital for dudes. Sure, I could have held it longer, but I've already got the issue with bladder stones, shooting out near constant rounds (and other shapes) daily.
Choose Your End Destination Wisely
So yeah, if your weary and well aged bones are going to be offloaded somewhere, someday, might I suggest the open desert instead? Well, that's my preference. It's a more dignified way to spend last days on the sphere of earth.
In the meanwhile, I've got music to make, and a stucco wall to stare at (outside my window). Oh damn, I just noticed that the palm tree they killed (failed to water) has been summarily removed. I must have missed that excitement. The removal of the palm corpse.
Note: the only only only person and employee who waters the plants out in the courtyard, also happens to be the CNA female who walked off the job today. That's right, living in the desert we have no one to keep the plants alive, so they must die! At least the staff members water the residents fairly regularly.
Anyways, I do get a mega-sliver of blue sky view, free of charge. And then of course, there's the reflected light bouncing off of the faded, dated, and degraded stucco surface. Yes, lots of natural lighting. So don't weep for me, Argentina!
The shallows becken wooden vessels from afar, but despite their haste in so doing, they must at once steer clear of that senseless objective, instead choosing to wreck themselves upon the jagged coral reef. Ballast be damned!
Sorry, a flashback. The Poseidon adventure meets Robinson Crusoe versus (20 years ago) Tom Hanks and his psychotic volleyball (the one lost on the float).
Take care,
Howard
I've been stuck in bed for the past six days. Something went wrong, likely initiated by my new feeding formula.
I had "the runs" for 24-hours, and ever since, I've felt exhausted, poisoned, and shaky. I sweat profusely when sitting upright. And my bloating and stoma pain are borderline unmanageable.
This is how I used to feel when I first became ill, way back when (minus the feeding tube complications). Of course, I am feeling defeated. How do I fix this? What exactly is wrong with me? Am I back to being bed bound again forevermore?
I am extremely unhappy right now, in this moment.
More
I must manually inject my feeding formula (Liquid Hope) into my feeding tube every 30 minutes or so - because the formula doesn't flow through the feeding pump apparatus (too thick / coagulates in a short period of time). The Nestle Compleat (Peptide 1.5) was the offending feeding formula. I think. The one that gave me diarrhea and made me sick like this. And then I had a bottle of Kate Farms overnight and I'm having terrible pain and bloating as a result (not that the Compleat was any better).
So yes, it's got to use the Liquid Hope going forward. And I've got to manually feed myself at least once at short intervals if I even hope to approach 1500 calories per day.
Since I'm in bed all the time (again), I've really got nothing better to do. I had my year's long run of fun, and just enough freedom to make my life temporarily satisfying. That was my gift. Now it seems I may be through with that. Indeed, life is killing me again (hopefully, ideally, only temporarily!!!).
September 5th (Tuesday)
It's been eight days now. And I'm still grounded - my body failing me, yet again (mostly just exhaustion and weakness now). But still, I try not to consider my sudden unceremonious demise. Considering anything at all (right now) is upsetting. So I forage ahead. Yes, that's exactly what I am doing. I am foraging for minute-to-minute sustenance (on all fronts). Ideals and ideas to latch onto. Items and objectives to have and to hold.
I received my zinc supplement this morning. I am half assuming my lethargy is related to sudden zinc depletion after my recent excrement implosion. At least, I hope it's something simple like that. Or possibly covid-19. That could be the cause, right?
No fever during my ordeal, but I did have chills the day before "the runs" kicked in. And then also (hours after my bout initiated), a several hours long headache, wherein I experienced shooting raw nerve-like pains throughout… my skull being exceptionally sensitive to physical touch (or even gentle pressure exerted).
Odd components.
Not Alone
I'm earmuffed in the moment, listening to a song ("Bete Immonde") by Griiim. Black Metal. That's the genre. My roommate is in the midst of his in-room therapy session, so I give him his privacy by forfeiting my quietude. And now it's into the chaotic microtonal metal abyss with Jute Gyte's "At the Limit of Fertile Land."
If I'm going to blot out sonic intrusiveness to the fullest, I might as well do it right.
Hmmm… only 37 minutes left in his therapy session.
Oh, and as of 23 minutes ago, I no longer have access to the Star Trek franchise. My former roommate (Sam the Deceased) must have let his subscription lapse (and truly I don't blame him, something he may not have foreseen). And truly, I rely upon the many iterations of Star Trek for my daily dose of screen time - something to watch that's not all that taxing, yet still satisfying on all the necessary levels.
I've still got Netflix access, though. Perhaps venturing forth and back into Asian content could/should be on the agenda… sometimes the subtitles don't cut it.
Oh, Deceased Sam's widowed bride broke both of her legs crashing her power chair (not too long ago). She tried to make a right angled sidewalk turn, clipped the edge, and went slightly off into the gravel. With the sudden weight shift, she tumbled out of her chair, and then the 400-lb behemoth landed on top of her.
14 Minutes Left
And a therapy person suddenly appears (the one with a good case of the smiles), asking to get my bodily weight. But I am not getting out of bed today, so no scale excursion for me.
And it seems my roommate's therapy session ended. No one told me. I was halfway through "Interstitial Parasite" by Natanas when —
Excess Wait
I pushed my "help" button at 0931 hours (well before the therapy session). It's now 11:37 a.m. (an hour after my roommate's therapy session concluded). If you do the math, that's over two hours of waiting. However, if you do the meth, you don't sleep for several days running.
Foreboding / Forewarning
One of the dedicated super CNA's from Unit 1 was assigned to our area this morning. But, that's not a good thing. My initial assumption had me believing she was being punished - likely for working too hard, and showing up (lazy / unmotivated) others.
"They took me off the schedule for October, all except five shifts!" The conversation began.
You see, she and The Scheduler do not see eye to eye. For some reason, The Scheduler dislikes this favored former Employee of the Month All-star CNA. Beyond that, any rhymes or reasons (on my behalf) are purely speculation. So I choose not to speculate. But there is a certain type, a certain kind of person who seems to be unfairly treated. And usually these types are my types - the kind of female employee I myself would hire on / regularly deploy.
In any case, it seemed as though there would be some kind of in-person confrontation sooner than later. And based on the result (our CNA no longer being here), I'm assuming she walked out - walked off the job.
So that was likely two hours ago. In the meantime, no one else picked up this area, or got reassigned to take care of us. Which isn't unusual. That's par for the course in our section. We have a veritable murders row amongst the rooming residents - basically, we're the neediest of them all!
But the thing that's funnier than funny is that after waiting and waiting and waiting, I finally called up to the nurses station directly, and within two minutes, someone was in the room taking care of us. Clearly, they saw my caller id on the nurse station phone. Realizing there's "Howard" involvement, they saddled up and got on their horses.
The main concern from my end involved my urinal being filled to the brim - you know, those plastic bedside things they have in the hospital for dudes. Sure, I could have held it longer, but I've already got the issue with bladder stones, shooting out near constant rounds (and other shapes) daily.
Choose Your End Destination Wisely
So yeah, if your weary and well aged bones are going to be offloaded somewhere, someday, might I suggest the open desert instead? Well, that's my preference. It's a more dignified way to spend last days on the sphere of earth.
In the meanwhile, I've got music to make, and a stucco wall to stare at (outside my window). Oh damn, I just noticed that the palm tree they killed (failed to water) has been summarily removed. I must have missed that excitement. The removal of the palm corpse.
Note: the only only only person and employee who waters the plants out in the courtyard, also happens to be the CNA female who walked off the job today. That's right, living in the desert we have no one to keep the plants alive, so they must die! At least the staff members water the residents fairly regularly.
Anyways, I do get a mega-sliver of blue sky view, free of charge. And then of course, there's the reflected light bouncing off of the faded, dated, and degraded stucco surface. Yes, lots of natural lighting. So don't weep for me, Argentina!
The shallows becken wooden vessels from afar, but despite their haste in so doing, they must at once steer clear of that senseless objective, instead choosing to wreck themselves upon the jagged coral reef. Ballast be damned!
Sorry, a flashback. The Poseidon adventure meets Robinson Crusoe versus (20 years ago) Tom Hanks and his psychotic volleyball (the one lost on the float).
Take care,
Howard
