The Home

The Home was not my home. I was told by my doctor that I would get no more medicine because I'd done something bad. Well, first of all, what they implied was attempted suicide. I can assure you, no matter how bad things get, I have always said, I'll ride it out. Sure, I could have just had ''old person's brain'' and forgot and took too many pills, but, the things they were accusing me of using were not things I had access to. So, how does that work? It doesn't work for me. Getting my records is working for me. 

As I read through my personal messages from that time, I realized that I had access to WIFI and my new laptop. I could get ahold of people, I didn't feel so alone. If I am a drug addict why would I deny it? That part makes no sense because I've been on narcotics for twenty years with nary the hint of any mishap. I get Tramadol and Hydrocodone. I use them both. The Tramadol is used to 'boost' the Codone and that way I never take extras. I don't have to, I don't have the stomach for that anyway. Both those drugs will have you nauseated and vomiting if you take more than a couple. I fail to understand how something that makes you sleepy can be considered ''recreational.'' It's more than a little creepy. What about the psychotropics?

This was most likely the proverbial straw that cracked the dromedary spine. I remember a trip to another hospital for dialysis.  I believe it was in Omaha. I don't know the name of it. I also remember yet another hospital. I believe it was in Lincoln, Nebraska. I also vaguely remember one in Des Moines, Iowa. Thats a lot of hospitals. One was the dialysis thing, they were Kidney Specialists. One was a Cardiac Specialist. My always before healthy heart just stopped. I don't know who called 911, it wasn't me. Once a neighbor heard me hollering for help and banging in morse code. Turned out I was badly dehydrated. I learned a lesson with that one and I now have unopened bottles of water hidden all over at floor level. My point is, when I need help, I get help. I now take proper precautions that I never thought about before. I need to talk about "The Home."

The home looked like another hospital to me, from what I could see out my window. Low slung red brick building, modern, white trim. My room was very nice, private and I had a bathroom that I didn't have to share. The thing was, even though I had a private bathroom, I soon began to suspect that someone had put a camera or at least a microphone in there. I would push the button to activate the light outside my door, signaling care staff that I needed help. That button had a metal clip on it and was clipped to my bottom fitted sheet. Most of the time it took way too long to get someone to come when I "called." They were always short staffed, always. I only met a couple of bad ones, but, in general, they just didn't have enough help. There also wasn't enough food. The food was edible for the most part, well, with the exception of casserole type things like Beef Stroganoff. I don't know anyone who wants to pick up their entire serving of that stuff with one stab of their fork. It was a coagulated mess of biblical proportions. By the way, the name of this care home was Azria. It's pronounced 'Azrah' and it means "Go with god.'' Ummm, no thank you. My helpful doctor had his assistant call and see if they had any beds and they did. I protested that i needed to settle some things at home. I have pets at home. I can't just be swept up like that. I felt a panic attack coming on. 

I'm sure I protested and then ask what he planned on doing about my hip? My doctor was flabbergasted. He acted like he'd never read my file. I am a candidate for hip replacement and I wanted it done. I do not, however, plan to go through that without drugs. I know this is getting confusing. I may take a break before I write about the really bad stuff that happened to me there.