Hospital Roommate
I have come to like my roommate over the past few days. We have not spoken a word to each other directly, but we smiled at each other once, a smile of compassion and understanding.
I only know a few things about my roommate, who for now I will call Charles, even though I do not know his real name. Charles is older then I perhaps double my age or more. Charles has a daughter, who I believe is older then I am as well. Charles speaks Russian, and I do not. He knows quite a few words of English, but he is going deaf and it makes it very hard for him to understand the nurses and doctors who ask him questions. Some of Charles favorite things to say in English are “No!” “I throw it out!” and “I no take any more!” The more that I hear him telling everyone what he won’t do; the more I seem to like him.
Charles has a very wrinkly ass, and he likes to not wear his hospital gown, but instead an old tee-shirt which seems now more grey then white. He has black slippers, and usually has on a diaper when I see him moving from his bed to the bathroom. He moves slowly, and forgets to bring his IV drip with him; until the IV tube reaches its full length and gives him a tug back. He fitfully inches his feet in effort to turn back around and retrieve his IV. Once Chuck is in the bathroom, there is no telling how long it will take him to get out. The first time Charles went into the bathroom he used the shower as the toilet. I had asked the staff to have someone clean it up, which they did, but 3 days later the bathroom still has a lingering odor that makes me just a touch nauseous. Charles wandered out of the bathroom on his second day in his grey tee-shirt and black slippers. He was wearing his diaper, but it was down midway between his ankle and knees, somehow hovering around his calves. This did not impede Charles progress at all, as Charles doesn’t move his feet much in walking. He shuffles one foot a couple inches, then shuffles the other foot an approximate distance and repeats as necessary to get to his destination. Unfortunately for Charles, he seems to forget an item or a task at least once during every trip, which forces him to shuffle off a 180 degree pirouette of sorts, and reverse course. I do feel bad for Chuck during these occasions, but I can tell that he is a proud and stubborn man who seems to detest help.
I have hit my nurses call button quite a number of times during my stay, but half of my calls have been for Charles. More often then not, Charles has made a bit of a mess on the floor and then drops his diaper on the largest area of mess and continues to shuffle on his way. On these occasions I ring up the nurse and request a cleaning crew. After a couple days of this, the cleaning people now come completely prepared for the calls to room 7B08.
I like it when we get a new nurse. They are very brave and typically enthusiastic with Charles. They yell loud so that Charles can hear them, but speaking at a loud level does not help Charles understand English. I have compiled a list of words and phrases that Charles does not understand: abdomen, nauseous, level of pain, lavatory, bowel movement….
Charles is very sure to ask the nurses there names and try to guess where any non-white women is from. So far all of his guesses are Mexico, but I think that is because his first nurse was born in Mexico. Since then we have had primarily black nurses, of which Charles has concluded that all must be from Mexico. Charles is sure to say “thank you” for all services provided to him during the day and night, regardless if he has voluntarily accepted those services or refused them. My favorite was when my buddy Chuck had to take some liquid medicine. I’m not sure what it was, buy I know that Charles did not like it. He told the nurse “I will not drink!” The nurse told him that he had to, as it was required for his surgery the next day. Chuck replied “I throw it out”. After only a few minutes of arguing the nurse went for the doctor. The doctor explained that if he was to have his surgery tomorrow, he would need to finish his medicine. “No, I throw it out” was Chucks reply.
One night the hospital staff was trying to get some information from Charles, but he did not understand the question. After failing to get anywhere with their line of questioning, they asked him if he knew his daughters phone number, so they could call her and user her as a translator. At first Charles did not understand the question, even though it was asked at an incredibly high volume and with each word annunciated slowly. But after repeating the question only a few more times, Charles shot back “I KNOW MY DAUGHTERS PHONE NUMBER!” Everyone seemed very excited, Charles knows his daughters phone number, progress was about to be made. “What is your daughters’ phone number?” the nurse asked. “I KNOW MY DAUGHTERS’ PHONE NUMBER!” Charles responded. They certainly seemed to have underestimated him; Chuck had them asking that question at least 9 times in all arrangements, different volumes and speeds. Chucks response did not waver in the least.
Chuck had his surgery today and is now back in the room. He must be a little drugged up because he is not so codgery today. I was definitely feeling sorry for Chuck, it was as if they had broken his spirit with the drugs. Chuck acquiesced to taking his medicine, wearing his hospital gown and generally being on good behavior. In a way it was okay, because I was feeling better and spending less time in the room. I did not have to witness the full effects of his breaking.
Around 11:00 AM the next day they came to give Chuck a sponge bath. I figured that it would be an uneventful affair with Chuck cooperating with the nurses. I was elated the first time I heard that Russian accented “NO!” Chuck was back and refusing his sponge bath. I’m sure he probably really needed one as he could no longer stand up and walk to the bathroom on his own, but that seemed to make no difference to Chuck. Chuck was back to his favorite past time, the act rebellion. Chuck in his skinny wrinkled body, unable to stand, not a hair on his head, was back and ready to fight. He ended up getting his sponge bath, but it was no easy matter for the staff involved, Chuck was defiant right up to the last patch of sponged skin.
Chuck is now fast asleep, snoring away, resting up for his next fight. The doctor is trying to wake him but he refuses… his snores of defiance resonate through the room.
I only know a few things about my roommate, who for now I will call Charles, even though I do not know his real name. Charles is older then I perhaps double my age or more. Charles has a daughter, who I believe is older then I am as well. Charles speaks Russian, and I do not. He knows quite a few words of English, but he is going deaf and it makes it very hard for him to understand the nurses and doctors who ask him questions. Some of Charles favorite things to say in English are “No!” “I throw it out!” and “I no take any more!” The more that I hear him telling everyone what he won’t do; the more I seem to like him.
Charles has a very wrinkly ass, and he likes to not wear his hospital gown, but instead an old tee-shirt which seems now more grey then white. He has black slippers, and usually has on a diaper when I see him moving from his bed to the bathroom. He moves slowly, and forgets to bring his IV drip with him; until the IV tube reaches its full length and gives him a tug back. He fitfully inches his feet in effort to turn back around and retrieve his IV. Once Chuck is in the bathroom, there is no telling how long it will take him to get out. The first time Charles went into the bathroom he used the shower as the toilet. I had asked the staff to have someone clean it up, which they did, but 3 days later the bathroom still has a lingering odor that makes me just a touch nauseous. Charles wandered out of the bathroom on his second day in his grey tee-shirt and black slippers. He was wearing his diaper, but it was down midway between his ankle and knees, somehow hovering around his calves. This did not impede Charles progress at all, as Charles doesn’t move his feet much in walking. He shuffles one foot a couple inches, then shuffles the other foot an approximate distance and repeats as necessary to get to his destination. Unfortunately for Charles, he seems to forget an item or a task at least once during every trip, which forces him to shuffle off a 180 degree pirouette of sorts, and reverse course. I do feel bad for Chuck during these occasions, but I can tell that he is a proud and stubborn man who seems to detest help.
I have hit my nurses call button quite a number of times during my stay, but half of my calls have been for Charles. More often then not, Charles has made a bit of a mess on the floor and then drops his diaper on the largest area of mess and continues to shuffle on his way. On these occasions I ring up the nurse and request a cleaning crew. After a couple days of this, the cleaning people now come completely prepared for the calls to room 7B08.
I like it when we get a new nurse. They are very brave and typically enthusiastic with Charles. They yell loud so that Charles can hear them, but speaking at a loud level does not help Charles understand English. I have compiled a list of words and phrases that Charles does not understand: abdomen, nauseous, level of pain, lavatory, bowel movement….
Charles is very sure to ask the nurses there names and try to guess where any non-white women is from. So far all of his guesses are Mexico, but I think that is because his first nurse was born in Mexico. Since then we have had primarily black nurses, of which Charles has concluded that all must be from Mexico. Charles is sure to say “thank you” for all services provided to him during the day and night, regardless if he has voluntarily accepted those services or refused them. My favorite was when my buddy Chuck had to take some liquid medicine. I’m not sure what it was, buy I know that Charles did not like it. He told the nurse “I will not drink!” The nurse told him that he had to, as it was required for his surgery the next day. Chuck replied “I throw it out”. After only a few minutes of arguing the nurse went for the doctor. The doctor explained that if he was to have his surgery tomorrow, he would need to finish his medicine. “No, I throw it out” was Chucks reply.
One night the hospital staff was trying to get some information from Charles, but he did not understand the question. After failing to get anywhere with their line of questioning, they asked him if he knew his daughters phone number, so they could call her and user her as a translator. At first Charles did not understand the question, even though it was asked at an incredibly high volume and with each word annunciated slowly. But after repeating the question only a few more times, Charles shot back “I KNOW MY DAUGHTERS PHONE NUMBER!” Everyone seemed very excited, Charles knows his daughters phone number, progress was about to be made. “What is your daughters’ phone number?” the nurse asked. “I KNOW MY DAUGHTERS’ PHONE NUMBER!” Charles responded. They certainly seemed to have underestimated him; Chuck had them asking that question at least 9 times in all arrangements, different volumes and speeds. Chucks response did not waver in the least.
Chuck had his surgery today and is now back in the room. He must be a little drugged up because he is not so codgery today. I was definitely feeling sorry for Chuck, it was as if they had broken his spirit with the drugs. Chuck acquiesced to taking his medicine, wearing his hospital gown and generally being on good behavior. In a way it was okay, because I was feeling better and spending less time in the room. I did not have to witness the full effects of his breaking.
Around 11:00 AM the next day they came to give Chuck a sponge bath. I figured that it would be an uneventful affair with Chuck cooperating with the nurses. I was elated the first time I heard that Russian accented “NO!” Chuck was back and refusing his sponge bath. I’m sure he probably really needed one as he could no longer stand up and walk to the bathroom on his own, but that seemed to make no difference to Chuck. Chuck was back to his favorite past time, the act rebellion. Chuck in his skinny wrinkled body, unable to stand, not a hair on his head, was back and ready to fight. He ended up getting his sponge bath, but it was no easy matter for the staff involved, Chuck was defiant right up to the last patch of sponged skin.
Chuck is now fast asleep, snoring away, resting up for his next fight. The doctor is trying to wake him but he refuses… his snores of defiance resonate through the room.
posted by Bitter Old Man at 8:24 AM
2 Comments:
Did you just write about yourself? :P
Good words.
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