Rebel Without a Cause

The hardest mood for me to deal with is "fight or flight" because I'm unable to do either. A nurse, who is new to this hall, argued with me because the aides were about to clean my peri area with a hospital version of Wet Wipes. I had been told by my regular nurse, who is familiar with my care, not to let the aides use them to clean me because they're bad for my skin. So I told the aides not to use them. The new nurse charged in like a pit bull at a neighborhood dog fight and started arguing with everything I said like it was a presidential debate and the world would be doomed if she didn't win. . She was so aggressive and fierce I gave up. She wasn't listening anyway. It was a case where she didn't believe me. How could an old woman like me, who lives in a nursing home, know anything about my own care? Hah! Impossible!

That was sarcasm. I could not reach her and that frustrated me because I really wanted to get up, feint with my left and then give her a good punch in the nose with my right. But I couldn't do that. I couldn't do anything, as usual.

I wonder what would happen if I gave in and screamed at the top of my lungs (and when I use my Sgt. Mom voice I am LOUD) to express how frustrated I am? My conscience is telling me that I would scare the bejabbers out of old folks here, possibly send some of them away to the afterlife, and, worst of all, confuse my roommate who doesn't need any help in that direction. So I can't do that, either.

Darn.

There's just nowhere for me to put all these emotions except inside me. And I can't vent them on anyone but myself. This is not a healthy situation, but I don't have any ideas on how to handle it.

So I'm not only a rebel without a cause, I'm a rebel with nobody to rebel against except myself. Circles. More and more circles. That's the way my life is right now. Same old same old.

And I'm bouncing off the walls inside my skull. I guess I need to keep practising my tolerance and patience instead of spinning my wheels. That doesn't get me anywhere. So que será será, right? What will be will be.

Pull your sombreros down over your eyes, prop your feet up on a chair and relax. What's so important that it can't wait for a siesta? I plan to siesta as much as possible, amigos. You all get a good rest, too.

Love you.