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2018-12-01 08:52:39 (UTC)

Father had given me their rent ..

Father had given me their rent payment of $700.00 this morning, and him, S. and I went to C.C. to deposit the money so that I could pay the rent online today. Went to work wearing white top and black scrub pants. It did not rain today despite the weather forecast. Sun shone through. Blue skies up above. Weather fine, in the upper 70s. A. told me how M. felt that I was not a good friend to her because I entertain Y. when she'd come up and talk to me. "It's inconsequential to me now," I told A., and she laughed.
Mr. H. passed away during my shift. R. found him unresponsive; without O2 and pulse in the pulse oximeter. Mr. H. secreted a lot of mucus and needed to be suctioned regularly. Perhaps R. was lax on it? But I could only speculate. Or Mr. H truly had a cardiac arrest. Nevertheless, everyone responded promptly and Mr. H was given CPR as he was full code. J.L., J., and O., went to the room. V.T. was quick on her feet coming in and out of the room, and called 911. I stood back, watching. So this is what it was like...I was thinking. But I felt a kind of detachment as I was observing Mr. H. being resuscitated. The truth is, working in s. where most of the patients are in borderline between life and death; ventilator dependent; tubes connected to their bodies-- one becomes used to it all. Overtime, the reality of the setting sinks in on one, and when death occurs, as if it is a normal thing, like when, on snowy winters, lumped snow suddenly falls off from a roof. And so I pass out medications, interact with the patients who are alert and oriented, and here and there report significant changes in condition, but I am never a god, nor do I have complete control of my patients' biological functions. As long as my conscience knows that I do my best and my work is good, I suppose that is enough. In a moment the paramedics arrived and they took over. A. and I were in Ms. F.'s room, talking, laughing. We somehow would find levity in such grave situations. I like her spirit after all. She lightens mine. Anyhow, I realized that I was wearing the same combo of a uniform, white top and black pants, when Mr. A. died I think two months ago, an outfit which I haven't worn since then, but until now. And now, Mr. H. has died, which makes me wonder and spur my wont for superstition. Or it could be just a sheer coincidence. Anyhow, V.H. said that Mr. H. has no family whatsoever, nothing to whom we could inform about his death. I thought this a bit tragic.
Ms. F became frustrated with A. while A. was changing her. A. was short and impatient towards Ms. F., who sensed it. "Get out of my room," Ms. F. said, "I don't want you in my room, you bitch." From which A., affected and felt disrespected, talked back to her, and laughed at her openly, which unsettled me, for Ms. F. was the patient, and the patient should always be treated with dignity and respect, so I consider my nursing philosophy to be. But in A.'s defense, she only wanted to get the job done without getting involved in Ms. F.'s talk, which A. considers to be usually nonsense. But I believe Ms. F. talks to "save face," to redirect attention to something else; her talking as a form of an attempt to avoid everyone's embarrassment for her own physical appearance, her own body; poor thing. Ms. F. has the mental capacity of a twelve year old, unable to cope when things don't go smoothly as she would like. She regards people as either black or white and nothing in between. But I suppose it all ended in good terms. A. ended up apologizing to Ms. F., who accepted the apology. I'm curious what would Ms. F.'s attitude towards A. would be like tomorrow.
E. texted asking me for R.'s number, to which I did not reply. When I saw him a few days ago he was very adamant against R. and his goods.
A. and J. texted as well, to whom I did not reply either.