Emma’s Morning

Hello friends and welcome back. As promised I will take you through one of my typical mornings. My morning starts with my four a.m. feeding or as near to four as possible. A nurse comes in and announces, “Good morning Emma time for breakfast.” Let me tell you how I get my meals, its called bolus feeding. That’s where they take a huge syringe with a tube extending from it and insert the tubing into a surgically implanted receptacle protruding from my stomach.

That receptacle called a gastrial intestinal tube takes a formula that the nurse slowly pours into the syringe, straight into my digestive system. I get fed like this three times a day followed by a nice cold water flush. It takes about twenty minutes unless I get a nurse that’s in a hurry and rushes the process, then I am left with severe indigestion that burns like hell. After breakfast I get my morning medications through a similar procedure that’s done in a shunt located in my arm this takes only about five minutes. Then they stick my finger to check for sugar in my blood. Now I am ready for my two caregivers.

The caregivers come in wash my face, sometimes they remember to clean my mouth. They roll me back and fourth to put my diaper on and get me dressed. Then they hoist me into my big old itchy recliner elevate my legs prop them into position with some pillows. Then while one takes my vital signs the other combs my hair, feels more like I am getting my brains beat out. They put a throw a cross my legs and a smaller throw around my shoulders then drag me in my chair out into the hall to where I am usually parked for a couple of hours, right directly across from an air vent. Then they go on to the next room to attend to whom ever. As usual my next door neighbor a nice little old man apparently mildly dementiated comes over to me and says the same thing every morning. “Hi there neighbor had your breakfast yet? I see you still got that rash, got to go now.” I wish that I could tell him–this is no rash, those are chill bumps.

While I am parked here, I get rammed into by a few wheelchairs driven by other residents. I get maneuvered back and fourth by the janitor as he sweeps and mops around and under my recliner. Then I just close my eyes and listen to the various announcements blaring from the PA system< special unit one, you have call on line two. Kitchen you have a delivery at the south door. Who ever is parked in the visitors zone please move your vehicle. And on and on>. Then about seven thirty I am greeted by two different caregivers that inform me that its time to lay down for my morning nap, unless it’s a shower day but that’s a whole another story. So off I go to be laid down and rest for the afternoon. Will you be back this afternoon?