Violets vs Violence

Last night the 3-11 shift went by. At about 8 i asked to be turned from one side to the other. This is supposed to be done regularly, to avoid getting bedsores again. I also asked that my colostomy bag be changed because it was getting pretty full and I didn't want to take a chance that it would spring a leak or overflow.  Also, every night I'm supposed to get "peri-care" which is cleaning the areas of my body that are warm and moist, and have Nystatin poweder applied to avoid developing yeast infection.

So I pushed my call button. One of our newest aides answered. I told her what I needed. She told me she'd never changed a bag before. I offered to teach her how. It's not awfully complicated. If I could reach the supplies and was at an advantangeous position so that I could see what I was doing, I'd do it myself. She said, no I couldn't teach her because the nurse had told her not to and she was alone on the hall. So she left without trying, or doing anything else.

The bag was finally changed at around 11:30, by the aide on the 11-7 shift. She was not happy. I was not happy. I never got turned until the 7-11 shift the following day. The peri-care was finally done about 24 hours after I asked.

I'm generally a patient person, but I have zero patience with this. No matter how bad the other two nursing homes were where I lived before, my absolutely necessary care has never before been simply ignored to the point where I have been utterly abandoned. Yes, I complained, and intend to report it to the Director of Nurses. I don't want to become a grouchy old biddy, but this was just too much.

Last niglht I took a trial subscription to Gaiam TV. It has a lot of videos about spirituality, and since I'm interested in spiritual matters, I watched a few videos. I watched two, parts one and two, of an interview with Ram Dass after his stroke. I could very much identify with what he had to say, and it gave me cause for some deep thinking.

It's possible I have attached myself too thoroughly to the idea that I must, above all, regain as much independence as possible. I've had the conviction that if I can't become reasonably independent, then there's nothing to live for.

But what if, instead of exhausting myself by beating my head against circumstances I have no control over, I, instead, look for the positive things that go along with them. I have been given the rare gift of time to myself. Free time. Quiet time. If I couple this with my writing skills, what might I accomplish? Never mind that I don't have a clue what to write about. I can practise meditation in earnest. Used to be ideas would pop into my head while I walked. It was things like tall, dry winter grass, bending in the same rhythmic dance of the north wind that would set me off.. Can't do that anymore, but maybe I can discover a world inside me to take my inspiration from.

I am struggling. Oh, how I am struggling. But I haven't given up.

So I choose the gentle, vaguely fragrant path of violets, growing my spirit slowly as I nuture my soul by learning and opening myself to inner knowledge that is rarely taught in books. I vow to leave the Quixotic forehead-banging of situations I cannot control and leave my angry frustrations behind. It won't be easy and I'm not certain enough of myself yet to be consistent, but I promise myself that when I inevitably lose my way, I will strive to find my way back.

That's about it. I love you all and wish you to find whatever life path is best for you.

Lavender will do, too.