death becomes her....

Death becomes her. A dark comedy fantasy movie. Drinking a magic potion with a promise of eternal youth. A triangle between an actress and the writer and plastic surgeon couple.

The hunger. An erotic horror film. Drinking the vampire's blood with a promise of eternal life. It is the story of a love triangle between a doctor and a vampire couple.

I watched both movies (again) yesterday, too lazy to get out of bed. I loved both movies. It's funny crazy promises of eternal life. I wish I had that potion for my mother.

Death in the family is inevitable, especially my Clinic-setting family. How many of them passed away? Four? Five? Ten? I cannot recall. The surest thing there is--- its greater than those I lost because of transplant. I hope none this coming year.

The saddest deaths I've encountered by far was with Mrs. King and Mrs. Queen. Both DNR patients. Mrs. King was easier, I noticed early in my shift one day that blood pressure was going low with skyrocketing pulse rate, I know that it was time for her to go. It was fast. I only made two or three ran checks on her and she was gone. Quietly.

With Mrs. Queen---it was crazy insane! I was notified by my CNA that she was not breathing anymore mid of my shift. So I rushed to her room, checked on her, even called my supervisor that day to rechecked. No, she is still battling it. So I kept checking on her in between my runs that day. At endorsement, I was still able to hand her to the oncoming nurse as she still had a pulse. When I went back to my shift the next morning, she was still there. While doing my ran that shift I was mumbling a prayer for God to get her and have her rest. Well, finally she was gone. But I was there staying until her body will be taken. Agony. Ahh Mrs. Queen why do you have to die at the end of my shift?????

In my Clinic now the worst news about death I had was with Monik. She was in too much pain while going through her treatments for several months. One day she was in the hospital, we heard the news that she died the day after she decided to submit herself to hospice. Sad. Remember Mrs. M? She passed away.

Oh and Ben's death. We have had this poor thing back door near the garbage bin where we often take our breather. He was in one corner head down, never minding anyone who passes by his corner. Weird. After the end of the day he died, just laid there breathless.

We're on our crazy ran again...a make-shift Monday on a Sunday, new year's eve. We're on schedule so far.
Happy New Year Philippines!

G.

Comments

I won't remember you....

I won’t remember you. I never remember anything that hurts me. Harsh huh! Acknowledging the pain and feeling it is one way but the easiest way there is when you have pain is to suck it up and forget about it. I did that. Done that. I learned to be cynical and stoical. I never remember anything that hurts me. When my father died, I only cried the day he was laid to rest. I cried hard in 2013 when I left my mother in a hospital bed without all her senses and memories…and the day she died. Crying helps. Instead of avoiding our feelings, we can simply feel them and forget about it. However, when events and circumstances overwhelm one to the point where they are an emotional wreck --- there’s always a medicine for it! So, Mrs. M got her dose. She passed away. It was sad. She was a happy soul. Someone just hurt me. I won’t remember you. ...

behind that closed door....

When you have a competent desk Executive Assistant you’re sure to end up with a glory day! Liz is efficient. Ask her to do anything and she will do it in an instant, well, of course sometimes she forgets especially when her laughing buddy is beside her! She works quietly. You won’t even notice her leave the building unless she says her goodbyes! Ahh like her FA! LOL! Sneaky. She is behind this closed door. This door used to be wide open years ago, and it just changed recently, for some stupid reason. Anyhow, open or closed door you can still hear her giggling or I can still disturb her with just a press of “transfer 10” in the phone in from my Station. She is the “MAN” (as Paul often says) when it comes to translating for my Hispanic patients. I always ridicule her for getting a more paying job as translator, @#$% some people who knew how to use the language line are just too lazy they would always call her to translate. Geez. I am one of them. As she passed by my Stat...

this used to be my playground...

Growing up, we have that graphic bible books that we've outgrown. I remembered those days where we (my siblings) snuggled our small-framed bodies to each other just to share those books and (that) one small book about the monkey and the turtle. So... When I am lost or out of sight , I am just in any place or aisle with books. Bookstores is my playground. I’m a late bloomer though… when I was a kid. I don’t have that pleasure or leisure to visit a bookstore, nor the money to spend on books. I was introduced to a library when I was already in high school (as the school had its own library). Unfortunately I don’t have, again, the pleasure to spend my free time hugging all those books in the library as we needed to help out in household chores. I only visit the library on a per need basis But I do not like libraries. There is that feeling of suffocation when you walk through a quiet, quaint, dim lighted book aisles… THO...

and so it goes...

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