As of this writing, offline, it's been another four days without internet access. Yet
another frustration with this place, this situation. This morning they handed me a packet
of admissions paperwork to sign, and told me to sign all the highlighted places, and not
fill in anything else, even the dates. The pages are numbered in such a way as to reveal
the packet is supposed to be 93 pages, but what I have represents maybe a third of that;
it's all the signature pages, but not the actual body of any of the contracts, policies, or
terms with which I'm supposed to sign my agreement. I don't know what kind of mentally
incapacitated patients they are accustomed to dealing with, but they are the ones who are
crazy if they think I'm going to sign a bunch of documents without reading the agreements
first, or allow them to fill in dates and information above my signature without me knowing
what they are going to put there. I won't allow my signature to be backdated and I won't
sign blank forms and have them fill in data above my signature after the fact. If they
needed these documents signed on my admission date they should have given them to me two weeks ago. So there might be some interesting fireworks tomorrow morning when I discuss these issues with the admissions paperwork lady.
Speaking of fireworks, there was an unannounced fire drill this afternoon. There's nothing
like blaring alarms and your room door slamming shut without warning to make a
claustrophobic person feel right at home and at ease. Especially since I'm incapable of re
-opening my room door while in my power chair, like I was this afternoon. Then there's the
fact that if I'd been sitting a little closer to my door, like I often do, it would have
slammed into my leg when it closed. I was astonished to find out it was a fire drill, and
that the doors all close automatically in the event of a fire. We are literally locked in
our rooms - supposedly to prevent us from wandering into the fire area accidentally - and
are evacuated one room at a time, although they didn't actually practice the evacuating part
today. Between the hours of 10pm and 6am there are only about 7-10 staff members here, with upwards of 100 patients. So yeah, if a fire breaks out in the middle of the night, I'm
quite certain I will spend at least an hour stuck in my bed with a sprinkler raining down on
me before finally being evacuated, assuming the sprinkler comes on automatically, and that I
don't expire from smoke inhalation or burns before my turn to evacuate comes up. Rather
melodramatic and pessimistic musings, I know, but that's the sort of direction one's mind
can take when confined to a chair and a room in which you do not want to be.
On the upside, we've made some terrific progress in therapies lately. A few days ago I
regained flexion in both knees, meaning that I can now retract my legs by bending them at
the knee after extending them outward. This is huge because I haven't been able to do that
since the new nerve damage addressed by the surgery in early January. This could be a very encouraging sign that nerve fibers in my spinal cord are finally beginning to heal. In
addition, I was able to extend my tolerance in the standing machine considerably this week,
standing for two whole minutes at one time and a combined total of four minutes during
today's session, during which I flexed my legs straighter beneath me - increasing the amount
of my weight they were bearing - over twenty times. I don't mind telling you that the first
time I stood in the standing machine I cried with joy, and today I almost cried again, from
pride and excitement about how long I managed to stay up. And from the incredible pain in
my left shoulder, but that's not the point.
That was a few days ago, and since then I have additionally regained flexion in first the
left and then the right ankle, so that now I have completely recovered all the nerve control
I had in December. This means my skin is still mostly numb from the heart level on down,
but at least I've got control of my lower limbs again, and just need to continue building
strength in them until I can stand again, and eventually walk I hope. These signs of nerve
healing in my spine are extremely encouraging and bolster my spirits tremendously. It's
almost enough to make me overlook the chronically understaffed situation here, where I
routinely wait over an hour for what are, to me, critical services such as being turned to
prevent pressure sores or being moved from the cramped and painful sitting position in my
manual chair back to bed after a tough afternoon of working hard at therapy. The staff,
mostly nice and competent people, are apologetic, and I blame the administrators, not them,
for creating a situation in which they can't possibly care for everyone in a timely fashion,
and for not establishing care priorities so that persons at high risk for pressure sores and
expressing great pain and discomfort get moved ahead of people who want nothing more than to be wheeled down to the dining room for another day's disgusting dinner. I've been sick to my stomach and suffering from diarrhea for days, and I barely touch the food here, I can't imagine why any of them are in such a hurry to go eat it!
another frustration with this place, this situation. This morning they handed me a packet
of admissions paperwork to sign, and told me to sign all the highlighted places, and not
fill in anything else, even the dates. The pages are numbered in such a way as to reveal
the packet is supposed to be 93 pages, but what I have represents maybe a third of that;
it's all the signature pages, but not the actual body of any of the contracts, policies, or
terms with which I'm supposed to sign my agreement. I don't know what kind of mentally
incapacitated patients they are accustomed to dealing with, but they are the ones who are
crazy if they think I'm going to sign a bunch of documents without reading the agreements
first, or allow them to fill in dates and information above my signature without me knowing
what they are going to put there. I won't allow my signature to be backdated and I won't
sign blank forms and have them fill in data above my signature after the fact. If they
needed these documents signed on my admission date they should have given them to me two weeks ago. So there might be some interesting fireworks tomorrow morning when I discuss these issues with the admissions paperwork lady.
Speaking of fireworks, there was an unannounced fire drill this afternoon. There's nothing
like blaring alarms and your room door slamming shut without warning to make a
claustrophobic person feel right at home and at ease. Especially since I'm incapable of re
-opening my room door while in my power chair, like I was this afternoon. Then there's the
fact that if I'd been sitting a little closer to my door, like I often do, it would have
slammed into my leg when it closed. I was astonished to find out it was a fire drill, and
that the doors all close automatically in the event of a fire. We are literally locked in
our rooms - supposedly to prevent us from wandering into the fire area accidentally - and
are evacuated one room at a time, although they didn't actually practice the evacuating part
today. Between the hours of 10pm and 6am there are only about 7-10 staff members here, with upwards of 100 patients. So yeah, if a fire breaks out in the middle of the night, I'm
quite certain I will spend at least an hour stuck in my bed with a sprinkler raining down on
me before finally being evacuated, assuming the sprinkler comes on automatically, and that I
don't expire from smoke inhalation or burns before my turn to evacuate comes up. Rather
melodramatic and pessimistic musings, I know, but that's the sort of direction one's mind
can take when confined to a chair and a room in which you do not want to be.
On the upside, we've made some terrific progress in therapies lately. A few days ago I
regained flexion in both knees, meaning that I can now retract my legs by bending them at
the knee after extending them outward. This is huge because I haven't been able to do that
since the new nerve damage addressed by the surgery in early January. This could be a very encouraging sign that nerve fibers in my spinal cord are finally beginning to heal. In
addition, I was able to extend my tolerance in the standing machine considerably this week,
standing for two whole minutes at one time and a combined total of four minutes during
today's session, during which I flexed my legs straighter beneath me - increasing the amount
of my weight they were bearing - over twenty times. I don't mind telling you that the first
time I stood in the standing machine I cried with joy, and today I almost cried again, from
pride and excitement about how long I managed to stay up. And from the incredible pain in
my left shoulder, but that's not the point.
That was a few days ago, and since then I have additionally regained flexion in first the
left and then the right ankle, so that now I have completely recovered all the nerve control
I had in December. This means my skin is still mostly numb from the heart level on down,
but at least I've got control of my lower limbs again, and just need to continue building
strength in them until I can stand again, and eventually walk I hope. These signs of nerve
healing in my spine are extremely encouraging and bolster my spirits tremendously. It's
almost enough to make me overlook the chronically understaffed situation here, where I
routinely wait over an hour for what are, to me, critical services such as being turned to
prevent pressure sores or being moved from the cramped and painful sitting position in my
manual chair back to bed after a tough afternoon of working hard at therapy. The staff,
mostly nice and competent people, are apologetic, and I blame the administrators, not them,
for creating a situation in which they can't possibly care for everyone in a timely fashion,
and for not establishing care priorities so that persons at high risk for pressure sores and
expressing great pain and discomfort get moved ahead of people who want nothing more than to be wheeled down to the dining room for another day's disgusting dinner. I've been sick to my stomach and suffering from diarrhea for days, and I barely touch the food here, I can't imagine why any of them are in such a hurry to go eat it!
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