Just Imagine -- Life Without an Alarm Clock

I don't have an alarm clock. Don't need one. I just realized how cool that is. This is the reason I didn't post a blog entry yesterday. Was it yesterday? I'm not sure. I just fall asleep when I get tired and wake up when the Wound Care nurse starts poking things into the abcess in my chest. Being in slumberland as I was, I practically jumped off the bed screaming. Well, I couldn't jump out of the bed due to my physical Limitations. But I could scream, which I did, loudly and long. I know she doesn't mean to hurt me. She's a very sweet person. But, for some reason, when she's the one tending to my wounds, I seem to yell a lot. The other wound care nurse barely squeezes a tiny chirp of pain from my lips.

Alas, I have developed a new wound on my bottom, but it's not too bad so far, so there is hope it will heal quickly. Also, a painful small red spot has developed in the middle of my back, exactly the same place where painful red spots which developed into abcesses have appeared before. I call foul. The abcess on my abdomen is still weeks away from healing. No fair adding to my misery. I want to have a severe talkin to withwhomever is in charge of this. I want to ask, what's the rush? Since we've already healed up two abcesses on my back, why don't we just judge the two jobs well done and forget about the third time? 

As for the new wound, it was coming loose along the scar tissue for awhile. I'm pretty sure that the two new aides who gave me a shower last week pulled the skin near it while she was trying to turn me in the most narrow, hardest plastic shower bed that Satan, if he exists, could ever devize. And if Satan and his minions exist, I blame old age on them, because nursing homes would be the perfect place for them to lay low. It's not the fault of the people who work here. They truly do the best they can. But you know... hardly anyone sees rats, for example, just their deleterious droppings and the results of their busy little rat workings.

I am NOT saying we have rats here. Not even a hint of the tiniest mouse. This is a good nursing home. The best I've been in, anyway, and it's miles ahead of the other two I've been a resident of. 

So how did I get on that subject, anyway?

There's another subject I want to approach. If you're a friend of mine on FaceBook you may have noticed me post a status update about whether or not to become a prostitute in my nursing home. I decided against it. I'll let some of the older ladies take a shot at it.

(Hint: this never has and never will happen. This was just a bit of FaceBook silliness, so don't get me kicked off FB, OK?)

Saw my therapist Friday. Last two times I've noticed he's looking kind of rough, so I'm a tad worried about him. He has respiritory problems. Sometimes he has trouble breathing. I wonder if the cold weather is negatively affecting him. I make sure there's no deodorizing spray or cologne in the air in my room when it's time for our session. Probably not good for him. I'll ask him next time I see him, assuming that I do.

Time to stop and find other things to amuse myself with until I succumb to my sleeping medicine.

Good-night, all. Happy dreams and perfect tomorrows.

Actually, it's a group portrait. ❤