The Dangers of Hospital Rounds

Sometimes just making the rounds to check patients had its surprises. Many of the beds that the hospital used had side rails that ran the entire length of both sides of the bed frame. The rails could be raised or lowered depending on the patient’s physical and mental condition. If the patient was confused the side rails were kept up to prevent them from falling out of bed. The rails could be completely lowered for alert and ambulatory patients. The rail restraints were completely legal then and considered proper treatment at the time.

There was one hazard from having those long side rails completely up and the hazard was for the staff members. It happened when staff members would make rounds to check the patients for incontinence and to change the bedding when necessary. There were times when the patient would play in their bowel movement, then would finger paint the side rails and leave a coating of feces on the rail. Often a staff member would lean over the side rail to check a patient, the person would end up with a streak of poop emblazoned across the front of their uniforms, or as we “lovingly” named the mark, “racing stripes.” That was our reward for investigating the odor.

An unwary and unsuspecting nurse would accidentally brush against the feces coated side rail. What was the result of “earning” the brown stripe across the front of their uniform? There were many nights some staff member had to finish their shift in scrub greens borrowed from the operating room with their uniform soaking in the sink of the utility room.

Another danger that the beds posed was mostly contained to the night shift personnel. Some of the beds were mechanical. They had a cranking mechanism to raise and lower the head and foot of the bed. This was a time when hospitals occupancy was stretched to the limit and these older beds were pressed into service. If someone from the previous shift forgot to tuck the crank handle away, it was not seen in the dark and would attack an unsuspecting person in the shin. The sudden surprising pain was intense. The hardest part of the agony was trying not to cry out and awaken the room full of patients who’d just fallen asleep. Today, a similar experience would be to rap one’s shin on the trailer hitch of a pickup truck.

 

Anyone Else Want to Fricassee Phil?

I must apologize to PETA and ASPCA as well as to the people of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, but enough is enough. I am weary of wearing boots, gloves, hats with ear flaps, scarves, and coats so thick my kids call me the Michelin man, then the very next day I’m looking to see if my shorts still fit and whether I have sunscreen that’s still usable. I’ve eaten woodchuck before and if it was Phil, it would be a delicacy I would enjoy thoroughly.

My only question is, “Why don’t they let Phil sleep?” If he’s in his den and there are no camera lights, the rodent won’t see his shadow and skew the whole idea of more winter or early spring. I am surprised that PETA and ASPCA aren’t protesting the torture of the creature when the “officials” drag him from his warm den.

I volunteer at the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society every week. There, I edit the newsletter, sort and store donations, and try to answer questions posed by visitors. About a year ago, we had several old cookbooks donated. One book had hand written recipes tucked inside. One recipe shared, “How to cook groundhog.” I thought it was amusing and sent a copy to the Punxsutawney Historical Society. Apparently they weren’t amused, because we didn’t get a response from them.

It’s always about this time of year the wood in my stack of firewood starts to dwindle. I try to save enough cordwood to burn for several days in case the power should go out. I have a natural gas stove, so I can cook, but the need for warmth is a necessity. Wearing bundles of clothing only goes so far.

Although most of the tired, dirty snow has disappeared, the grass is still brown, and the trees remain bare. With the rain falling down, it can be depressing, but there is some encouragement. The swans came back to Jacob’s Creek Lake on their migration north and recently, robins have been singing, frolicking, and searching for food in my yard. I’m still waiting to hear flocks of geese in V formation pass overhead. Their return north is a real conformation that spring is here.

I’m so anxious to see new leaves forming, tree buds opening and, daffodils, crocuses, and snow drops raising their heads. I’m longing to feel the sun warm the air and for the hummingbirds to return. Springtime, where are you? I’ve missed you so much.

Such a Card

Being a retired nurse, I have a warped sense of humor and being a writer, I often use words that have a double meaning and allow the reader to chose which meaning that makes them think or smile. I’ve written a ton of poetry and had seven books published. When I started to share the mysteries that I’d written, I would always include a double entendre line somewhere in the tale. I was chastised by the more serious authors saying that humor didn’t belong in a mystery. Being a nursing supervisor, I was used to complaints and allowed them to roll off my back. I thought a bit of humor allowed the reader to pause and take a deep breath. My books are all fictional, so who did it hurt.

People who use humor as a comedian does are often called cards. Researching the meaning I found it to be, Card -- a clownish, witty, or eccentric person, a "character." "The word is now much less common, but it was formerly often preceded by a stock adjective, such as 'a knowing card,' 'an old card,'..." etc. " The term itself was perhaps suggested by a phrase such as 'sure card,' meaning a winning card...Alternatively, there may be a pun on Latin 'carduus,' meaning thistle, as an instrument for combing and teasing cloth to raise its nap. The role of a card is similar." So I am an eccentric person, and label myself as a card.

Another reason I label myself as a “card” is that I am a card collector. I didn’t start that way, but somewhere in my 72 years, people began to give me postcards. It could also be my frugality kicking in. When our family would travel on vacation, it was an economical way of collecting souvenirs and memories of our excursions. Anyway, I have hundreds of postcards in my collection. Many were passed to me from my grandparents and are fragile and vintage. I keep those in several albums. Some were sent to me and my wife Cindy or to our children. I even have several from foreign countries. A few are from Iceland where I was stationed and several are from Canada from a mission’s trip. There are quite a few from out West. Many are from my mother-in-law’s trips when she travelled West with friends, while others were gathered when our family spent 17 days tenting through the Western states.

For those who follow me on Facebook, I post a different postcard each morning. I decided to share them instead of allowing the silverfish insects to dine on tem.

One last “card” mention. At 72, I’m no longer carded. Ha, ha.

 

You Are Welcome

Saturday a few brave-hearted members of our church ventured out to deliver small packages of candy, Gospel tracts, Scripture of John and Romans, as well as information for our church services. It was a way of letting local residents know of our church and that they were welcome to visit. It was also a way to share the good news of Christ and salvation. Yes it was blustery, snowy, and cold. And yes we had to walk to the homes’ front doors to place a plastic bag door-hanger on each knob. We didn’t want to intrude on the people’s privacy, only leave a calling card of welcome.

Getting to some places, a four wheel drive vehicle was a blessing and snow boots were definitely welcome. We managed to visit quite a few homes, about 175. There were a few times we actually spoke with homeowners if they were outside or came to the door to see what we were doing. Some of the homes were still without power and had generators running. Some homes had no tracks. We weren’t sure whether anyone was home or if owners were curled up inside trying to keep warm, but we left a welcome package for them to find. We had a pleasurable morning, talking, and meeting a few new people. No one refused our bag of goodies and we were frequently rewarded with smiles.

There were several linemen in the area repairing the downed electric lines. It was difficult work I’m sure with the cold and the wind. We stopped and gave them treat bags as well, thanking them for their work. The truck’s license plates were from another state, so I am sure none of them will be visiting our church, but they will leave Pennsylvania with a sweet memory and a copy of the Scripture.

I was able to meet and talk to one of my cousins. I knew he and his wife lived in the community we were visiting. I’d seen Joe and his wife walking their dog, but didn’t know which home was theirs. My daughter Anna had already grabbed the welcome package and was walking down the stairs to the home’s front porch, when I saw their last name blazed on a large plaque at the front of the home. I jumped from the car and we did a double welcome greeting when my cousin’s wife came to the door. She called to Joe and we talked for a few seconds. It was great to see him again. We coulbn’t linger. We still had a lot of welcomes to pass out.

 

 

Stuck in the Middle with You

The week isn’t finished yet and I’ve been kept busy. I will continue to be busy until Monday. This past Wednesday started the ball rolling. It’s my usual busy day with four hours as a volunteer at the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society. We were adding some photographs to the articles of our upcoming newsletter. Then is the usual Wednesday evening is prayer meeting, but I was the chaperone for the teen riders so the chauffeur can drive without the young people causing chaos.

Thursday I went grocery shopping and visited my daughter Amanda. At the store as usual, (especially now with the evils of inflation in place) I spent more than I’d planned. It’s embarrassing and frustrating when I go into the store for a loaf of bread and exit with three or four bags of groceries. But then again, I don’t plan to starve. Today I am to be an adult sitter for a friend’s grandmother who has recently had surgery and can’t be left at home alone. Those in the family are good friends and all are busy. The grandkids still have school, her husband has to work, and her kid has doctor’s appointments most of the day. I’m not sure how long I will be engaged in my nurturing nursing role. We’ll see.

Saturday, I’ll be joining other church members to pass out gospel tracts and candy door hangers in a local area. We hoping that we won’t disturb the residents, unless they have yapping dog doorbells that go off when someone approaches their front door.

Sunday I’ll be going to church services and Sunday school in t5he morning. As soon as Sunday school is over, I’ll be borrowing the church van to pick up an old Army stretcher for use in our Easter program. I teased our Pastor saying, “Can I borrow he van, Dad?” It made him smile when I shared why I needed to use it. Another church is lending the stretcher to us. I’m so thankful that they are allowing us to use it. I checked on line to see the cost of Army Surplus. It was almost fifty dollars, then there would be shipping and handling fees. I’ll need to pick the stretcher up on Sunday so I won’t impinge on their generosity. Then I’ll attend Sunday evening services.