Death by Poetry

When they opened her up

she was riddled with poems.

They didn’t even try to transcribe.

They just sewed her up again and sent her home.

Three months later in the spring of the year

she died of poems,

her body alive with them–

protest poems in her spleen

love sonnets in both auricles of her enlarged heart

arteries clogged with blockage

her lungs so cloudy with poems

each breath must have been a labor

her breasts, hard as on the third day

when the milk comes in,

engorged with poems she could not let down

safe poems in situ–haiku tightly formed and cyclic

ruptured poems spilling infectious mixed metaphor

|into her abdominal cavity

an ectopic poem that could not gestate,

ready to burst the tube

that stretched in holding in its will to life,

parasitic poems

plagiarized and feeding on the good bacteria

one last magnificent poem, almost spoken,

lodged in her throat like a piece of steak.

Say only

that she died of beauty undigested

like rough rubies

and we need only read her death

to be gifted of it all.

Maureen Flannery

 

I'm back to long walks for Charlie which makes him happy I imagine, and I'm sleeping much better with more exercise and more fresh air.

I couldn't visit Katie on Sunday because I was sick and didn't want to infect her; I also didn't have the energy to care for her.  I called and cancelled.  Katie had a meltdown and this was the critical incident report I received.

After being informed that her mother would not be coming, Katie began to cry, scream,

and hit her head, hands, and nose. Staff attempted to de-escalate the situation by singing

songs and redirecting Katie to preferred topics, such as horses. Unfortunately, these

strategies were not effective at that time. To ensure Katie's safety and protect her from

injury, staff provided her with a pillow while also keeping a safe distance. As Katie's

behaviour escalated, it became increasingly challenging for staff to offer physical support.

Both staff members tried to administer Katie's PRN medication between 8:50 and 9:00

AM, but they were unable to do so. Eventually, Katie stopped hitting herself but continued

to cry. By 9:15 AM, staff determined that the best approach was to give Katie some space

while continuing to monitor her from a safe distance.

This is why I rarely cancel my visits with her.  Katie knows when it is Sunday.  She knows her mum visits on Sundays.  She likes her routines and doesn't cope well with disruptions to her routines.  All behavior is communication.

Katie's dad did visit this past week but Katie was anxious about that happening as well and this happened.

At approximately 9:05 a.m., overnight staff completed the shift exchange with the 9:00

a.m. staff for both individuals and left the residence. At that time, Katie was with staff, and

staff was working alone. Katie was communicating with staff using sign language and

indicating “baby” and “Dada.” Staff responded by reassuring Katie that her dad was

coming to pick her up today in a while. Staff then went to the washroom to wash her

hands. Katie also went to the washroom and subsequently followed staff when staff exited

the washroom.

Staff proceeded to the staff room, and Katie followed staff into the area. As Katie

approached staff, staff moved backwards to maintain space. Katie then grabbed staff’s

bag and threw it onto the floor. Staff observed that the bag and several personal

belongings were on the floor. Staff continued communicating with Katie in an attempt to

support her to remain calm. Staff reminded Katie that her dad was coming at

approximately 11:00 a.m. and encouraged her to leave the staff room and sit on the chair

near the entrance, where Katie usually sits. Katie initially did not respond to the redirection

and continued approaching staff. Staff continued using calm verbal communication and

encouraged Katie to leave the staff room. Katie eventually exited the staff room. While

Katie was outside the staff room, staff began picking up the belongings that had been

thrown onto the floor. As staff was picking up the belongings, Katie suddenly rushed

toward staff and grabbed staff’s hair near the scalp. Katie pulled staff toward herself while

holding staff’s shoulder with her other hand. Staff attempted to release Katie’s grip from

the shoulder and then attempted to release Katie’s hand from staff’s hair. Katie continued

resisting and scratching staff’s arm and hand. Staff sustained multiple scratches to the

arm and hand during the struggle. Staff also experienced significant pulling of the hair,

resulting in multiple strands of hair being pulled from the scalp. Throughout the incident,

staff continued attempting to redirect and verbally reassure Katie. Staff used familiar and

calming communication, including singing a rhyme and saying things such as, “Katie, let’s

get ready. Where is your backpack? Let’s get your backpack. Your dad is coming. Let’s go

see the horse. Let’s go see dogs at the dog park.” Katie continued holding staff’s hair and

did not release her grip despite staff’s attempts to disengage. During the incident, the

other individual came out of her room. She assisted staff by holding Katie’s hand and

verbally prompting her to release her grip. Following this intervention, Katie released her

grip on staff’s hair, allowing staff to move away from Katie and out of her immediate reach.

I wonder if she was worried her dad would cancel.  I don't know but it worries me (I don't want her to be evicted because of her behavior) and it breaks my heart because I know she's upset.  I'm also thankful that I wasn't recipient of her behavior, which sounds awful but it's true.  I wish they would call me but I'm also glad that they don't call me.  It's a rock and a hard place.

Other than Katie having a hard time, life is good.  The days are warm and sunny, the nights are cool, and Jack is happy to be back in a routine at school.  Last night he wanted to go to the park after supper, like every other night, and I told him I needed to clean up the kitchen, like every other night.  I told him I needed his help.  He put the dishes in the dish washer and wanted to help with the dishes, so I let him.  There was a fair bit of water everywhere but I kept my mouth shut and just put a rag on the floor to sop it up.  He washed, I rinsed, and he did a pretty good job.  This will probably not happen again for months, but it is a start.  We went to the park and his best friend was there so a lovely surprise for him.  He played hard, had a bath and a snack, and went to bed with poppa laying down with him.  He was out like a light, after he talked about the game he's building on Roblox, drank his milk, and brushed his teeth.

 

I received a lovely bouquet of sunflowers from a friend on the weekend.  She rang the doorbell, left the flowers on the doorstep, and ran away.  I called out to her that she was a chicken and she happily clucked back.  She has no desire to get this bug.  Wise woman.

Husband and I are not exactly bouncing back from this flu.  I do feel better but still tired, full of snot, short of breath, and coughing lots.  Husband got it a couple of days after me so he's a couple of days behind me in feeling better.  He's sleeping lots between coughing and sneezing bouts.  Jack is back to school thankfully.  He missed his skills assessment for soccer on Saturday morning because he had a fever but there is another chance tonight, so we'll get him to that.

Right now I also have something called paronychia on my right hand, ring finger. It is surprisingly painful and the pain was definitely 10/10 when I bumped it yesterday.  I'm sure I've had them before and they do go away on their own.  Strangely enough, that finger has been damp a lot lately because my dishwashing gloves have a leak in that finger and I've been too cheap to replace the gloves.  The gloves have been replaced now and I'm soaking the finger in hot salt water.  The first night it appeared though it was so painful that I had a hard time sleeping and then my brain decided it might be necrotizing fasciitis, so that didn't help me fall asleep either. Turns out not necrotizing fasciitis, no sepsis, just a sore finger.  As my mum would say, "Fool 'em and live".    

As you can read, life here has been just wildly exciting.  We didn't have frost on the weekend but it's going down to 0C tonight so I'm glad I got my tomatoes and apples harvested.  I've made two batches of tomato sauce so far with many more to come.  I've run out of room to put all the green tomatoes so a big bag went down to the basement.  I still need to deal with the apples when I get a bit of energy.  

I saw a downy woodpecker at the bird feeder this morning, such tiny little birds.  When our fridge died I found a package of suet with nuts, seeds, and dead bugs in it at the bottom of the freezer.  I put it outside and there has been one magpie who visits us several times a day to partake.  It looks like the same bird every time so obviously he/she has not told their extended family about it.  Sometimes we don't always feel like sharing.  I'm that way with chocolate.

 

This photo will be sixty-one years old soon.  It was taken for my third birthday and I was wearing my favorite dress.  

We're all still sick in the house.  Husband has joined me in the excess production of mucous, oh joy.  He's sneezing and coughing, I'm still coughing up crud, and Jack and husband both have fevers.  Jack just feels lousy.  I am not impressed.  Jack was supposed to be going to a skills assessment for his soccer this morning but that's not happening.  Fortunately there will be another skills assessment on Monday evening.

Virtually nothing has happened all week.  I did pick a bunch of tomatoes because it's getting cold at night but I ran out of energy after picking three plants.  There are four more to go.  I could show you a photo of the plants that I picked yesterday but that would require me getting up and getting my phone.  Too hard right now.

I also have to pick apples because the apples are ready.  I also have a photo of the tree but it's on the phone.  See above.

Nothing will happen today and hopefully I'm feeling better tomorrow to take Katie out.

I got up to brush my teeth so I figured I could post the photos.

A very interesting piece of graffiti from the skateboard park.  Jack came home from school yesterday morning because he felt like he was going to puke.  I don't think he was feeling that sick but he also wasn't feeling that well either.  I gave him the benefit of the doubt, part of the deal though was no park after supper.  Sure, sure, sure.  Of course after supper there were tears and begging but there was no park after supper.  He did play in the backyard though and he enjoyed that.  

I saw a doctor yesterday for my BP meds and I told her how tired I was.  She asked me if I was short of breath.  Yes I am.  Do I have brain fog?  Yes I do.  Do I have headaches?  No more than usual.  She checked my ferritin and it's low and she ordered a ferritin supplement for me so I'm hopeful that I'll have a bit more energy sometime soon.  I looked up old blood tests online and my ferritin has been low for the past 4 years which would explain some of the fatigue.  I don't eat red meat usually and very little leafy green veg which is probably the cause.  Last night I choked down some meatloaf and a spinach salad.

I worked in the front garden for awhile yesterday while Jack was home.  I have a problem with gardening.  I can grow just about anything but I suck at editing and pruning.  Yesterday I did both so we'll see how things turn out next year.  Because it was so wet this summer I spent very little time in the garden and it shows.  Next year I'll try again.  I removed almost all of the lamium and a few other plants that spread so much that they take over the garden bed.  I want to try more rudbeckia in the front garden next year.  I like the combination of yellow and purple, or blue.  The delphiniums that I planted in the front are doing well while the salvia gets mildew every summer which I don't like, so the salvia got yanked.

Jack was kind enough to share his germs with me when he wasn't feeling well on the weekend.  I had a sore throat when I went to bed last night and this morning I woke up with it still.  When I went to talk, it sounded like I had marbles in my mouth.  I used a flashlight and looked at my throat and it's quite swollen and boggy, including my uvula.  Nothing much is going to get done today other than a couple of dog walks.  My throat hurts like a bugger and so does my head.  I'll live.

Jack had a bit of a fever Saturday, so a quiet day.  Yesterday he was congested and plugged up.  School has started and the germs are out and about, mingling with everybody inside for most of the day again.  I imagine I'll be congested and plugged up in a day or two as well.

I took Katie out yesterday and she had a good time.  I took an ativan with us, just in case, but it wasn't needed.  We saw so many babies it was ridiculous and she loves babies.  With the government clawing back $200/month that she doesn't get, and with rent and everything costing more, she has about $20/month to spend as she pleases.  Today I bought her baby wipes (because she still poops in a diaper) and that was the $20 gone.  I realized that she can't afford to buy herself lunch out once a week anymore, so I paid for that.  I also bought her a new warm fleece jacket as it's gotten cold.  She doesn't have enough money to buy clothes and goes through her clothes quite quickly.  She pokes holes in, chews on, and rips all of her clothes.  This government disgusts me.  

I had lunch on Friday with a friend and I told her that I feel guilty sometimes that Katie doesn't have much of a life.  It seems like everyday is the same and she's just waiting to die.  And then I realized my life is not really so different and who am I to judge if her life is good or not. We're all waiting to die, going through our lives one day at a time. 

We're also watching "The Bear" and I love it!  The episode we watched last night was called "Forks".  One of the main characters was sent to a very high end restaurant to learn how to run a high end restaurant, about how to treat the customers, what's important, and why things matter.  What surprised me in this episode is that the restaurant gave back to the community and service (the chance to be of service to someone, to make their day better, to care) was what mattered to all the people who worked there.  It was about the food, but really is was about caring enough to do an excellent job.  It was not how I've ever thought of restaurants.  I've thought of hospitals and nurses like that (being of service) but not restaurants.  It kind of opened my eyes, being of service, giving of yourself can happen anywhere.  

I also had coffee with a couple of friends from work on Saturday morning and it was so nice to catch up with them.  I miss those women but I am also so thankful I don't have to work there anymore.  Health care continues to be Do more With less, thanks again to this pitiful excuse for a government who continues to underfund health care so that they can push their agenda of private health care.  Fuckers!

My sweary pottery has made it's way home.  There will be more because, the world needs more swears right now.

The basement bedroom is finished and Jack and I were able to sleep down there last night, on the bed, and not on the mattress on a floor.  It was very nice and comfortable.  I love the new flooring and there is no more mold.  We even have new windows downstairs as they were installed finally, after a three month wait.  Please ignore all of the black squiggly lines in the photos.  Apparently it comes from the invisible flickering of artificial indoor lights, although previous phones have never had this problem.  I'm just happy to have my basement, mostly, back together.  There is still a few more things that have to be properly put away in the utility room and I'm working on that.

Now I can turn my attention to the yard which greatly needs some attention.  

I've been reading "Leaving Home" by Mark Haddon, the author of  "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time".  It is a difficult to read book because of the neglect both he and his sister suffered at the hands of his parents, and the casual acceptance of both physical and sexual abuse by his parents. He and I are the same age and I remember the things that were just not talked about (anything difficult).

My mum was English.  After my son was born I was living at home with my parents, and within days of being discharged from the hospital, I got sicker and sicker.  I ended up back in hospital with an infected episiotomy.  I was in a lot of pain and in emergency the nurses had given me something for pain (so I was uninhibited) and the nurse had to get a sample of the pus coming from my incision.  My poor mum, even with drugs on board I could tell how uncomfortable she was being in the room with me and I said, "Oh mum, it's so hard being English."  Even as an old lady she could only say, down there, which made diagnosis difficult when she was an old lady.  There are many bits and pieces, down there:)

The book also brought back a lot of memories of trying to arrange care for mum and dad.  I only lived 150km away but I also had three kids.  When dad was dying he was very confused due to hepatic encephalopathy and mum would call me every night, crying because he was so hard to take care of.  I would listen to her for an hour while she cried and complained.  She also wouldn't move any furniture or area rugs (tripping hazards for my dad) to make it easier for dad to get around the house with his walker.  Dad wouldn't allow caregivers in the house because mum could do it he said.  In the night when he fell, mum would call the ambulance and the paramedics would come to the house, pick him up, assess him, and put him back in bed.  Neither one of them would allow things to be easier, for things to change, and now maybe I can see that they didn't want to admit to themselves how dire things were.  Dad was obviously dying and denial had always worked in the past, which is how they probably coped with the deaths of five babies/fetuses and the traumatic brain injury of my sister, but denial only works so long and death will not be denied.

Dad spent the last nine weeks of his life in hospital and when he was told that he would be transferred to a nursing home 65 km away from mum (who couldn't drive), he developed pneumonia the next day and died five days after that.  I think it was a relief for everyone when he died.  There was no more suffering.  I suppose that is the purpose of death too, an end to suffering.  

On that cheerful note, I'm off to paint the doors in the basement.