Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Institutionalized

Another in the endless string of insults happened this morning. One of the creatures responsible for enforcing State (all hail State, praise State!) regulations decided to relieve me of my can of shaving cream I purchased to replace the horrible little packages of snot provided in place of something that works. ...another thing to remind whoever escorts me to the next de-lousing.

Part of the reason simple-minded regulations like that and so many more are enforced here (other places, one I'm personally familiar with, don't) must have something to do with the "highly trained" State (all hail State!) inspectors appearing quite often. I don't recall that being a problem at Macclenny.

Another is the residents themselves. One would expect some degree of mental incompetence among the residents. However this place, SHCC, has a huge percentage, possibly greater than 90 per cent, that are true, slack-jawed, mouth-breathing, drooling, brain-dead, former human beings in need of protection from themselves. The wailing, moaning, and screaming of these creatures is unnerving at the least and surely must account for the lack of visitors; i.e., Aunt Flossy has been locked up here due to her being a distraction to her "family" and her "family" feels guilt (and foreboding) about visiting. ...kinda like visiting an insane asylum. Remind me to tell the story about Aunt Dot. Except for lobotomies, mental health has pretty-much the same rules and the same treatments (unless the "doctor" is a hindu) as it did in the '50's.
 
One instance is 91 year old Ralph, a combat vet of the south Pacific during WW 2, a farmer, then a deputy sheriff for 35 years with a clear, rational mind, still house-broken, and literally dumped by his son and daughter at the facility for their convenience. Ralph is hard of hearing, lacking very acute vision, and needs a bit of help. He can't play bingo, enjoy balloon-toss, savor the Rev. Dogbreath's wonderful, inspiring sermons about how good it's gonna be to be dead, and other mind-numbing "activities" due to his poor hearing and vision. He just needs a bit of physical help now and then and mostly, someone to talk to.

Another was 89 year old Edgar, a life-long citizen of his birth county, a school teacher, then superintendent, and nearly (by 50 votes!) a state representative. His mind was fully intact and it would be very demeaning and boring for him to be playing games he gave up as a small child. They were the only things offered so he had to settle with reading and conversation with me. It could have been worse, he could have been here.

Edgar had been getting along well, had graduated back to walking with a cane after prostate surgery left him crippled (hindu "doctors?" I've buried two under-60 friends, one with headaches killed by the exam, the other by a blood clot during elective surgery, and have had others much younger permanently crippled by same) and back to his cheerful self, anticipating going home to his life. One day at lunch which we always had together, a pair of shall-be-unnamed employees were talking about Edgar behind us with one expounding loudly (her normal voice) that Edgar was never to be released, no explanation given. It comes to mind that since he had no living relatives and was zero problem for the staff as he was fully self-sufficient and the $82,000 + the State (all hail!) paid annually for his 8' by 12' double-occupancy (I was the other) cell, that the joint would really not like to loose him.

Edgar's face didn't just fall, he turned absolutely gray. The knowledge that he was probably going to die in that place of no memories with nothing lasting to experience as each day was identical to the previous, was a lot to swallow. Hell without the flames on earth. An absolute zero for life.

His life changed radically from that moment on. His habit of waking with such a positive outlook and, after a bit of warm-up (boy, do I know about that!), began a cheerful day. Now he could barely get out of bed and even that became impossible. He would fall on the floor and became too uncoordinated to even sit up. For more indignity, he became incontinent and would urinate all over the cushions put on the floor to soften up his falls. I would assist him to get sitting upright out of the puddles and get something to help with a little decorum while going for help getting him tended. I wished I could help more, however a half-paralyzed, 120 pound man is not very useful.

I read his obit this year. He died three years after the above took place and in the nursing home without any family or friends.

His worst nightmare.


It must be tough working for a place like this and, observing the tremendous turn-over rate, it is. Even if the pay was high which I doubt, I doubt if it would be mentally healthy to remain very long.

Try it 24/7, 365 days a year. If one is sane upon arrival, only an extreme effort of will, will keep one sane. If a resident is cognizant, he's normally doped up, therefore as useless for conversation as the true droolers. One fake "doctor" even doubles-up on downers to keep the cognizant as wasted as the brain-dead. I could have strangled the bastard went he "ordered" a heavy narcotic doubled without a roomie having asked for it. It did a fine job of finishing that young man off mentally. He went on to do the exact same thing to another roommate, not so much as a cursory exam. To cap this off, that god-damned, worthless, creature added one to my required meds. He's been at the same crap for over 30 years. You see, my wife and myself went to see him in his "capacity" as a marriage councilor. See Who Let That Thing In? for more. Institutionalized medical malpractice. Complete incompetence.







Hit Counter
Hit Counter

No comments:

Post a Comment