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| Joyce Hoffman The Tales of a Stroke Patient |
I planned on writing more in the nursing home mini-series, but I've been sick with some virus. I gave the nurse a stool sample so the people in some laboratory nearby will play around with it to decide which virus. I don't care really because I'm getting out of here this weekend, as long as it isn't life threatening like Ebola. My luck. Ebola.Anyway, I'll give you a microwave version of what went on. I was going to write a whole post about the time Beatrice answered the cell phone in the dining room in the middle of dinner. Beatrice is hard of hearing. The person to whom she was speaking was evidently hard of hearing, too.
"I have diarrhea," Beatrice said to the caller. The caller obviously didn't discern the word. "Diarrhea! DIARRHEA! DIARRHEA!" Beatrice screamed.
And there was the time that two aides got in a verbal fight over whether they should serve chicken soup broth to a vegetarian. It was the height of the argument.
"Chicken is meat and vegetarians don't eat no meat!" screamed the other.
I didn't get involved, but I had my opinion, too. Chicken is meat. I'm just sayin'.
A few other posts were in construction, but I am calling this post the final chapter in the mini-series because it is. I'm feeling depleted of energy from the virus. I have rashes on my extremities, the "d" word (Beatrice would love this post), vomiting, stomach pains, fever, and nausea. If I were to take a guess, I'd say it was the norovirus. Same symptoms, same misery.
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