Tuesday (two weeks ago today), the nurse tech assigned to me wanted me to take a bowl bath. Now, folks, that’s nigh onto impossible for me when I’m feeling good. The logistics were just too much. Mother would take them regularly. She would say, “I wash down as far as possible and up as far as possible—then I wash possible.” Fine with me. I shower. I bathe. I can’t bowl bath.
Okay, then. A shower it was. She taped plastic over my IV and we were off. My room was one of the few with its own bathroom. I turned on the water and luxuriated as much as I could while maintaining my balance. I don’t think she realized how very sick I was. There was no shampoo so I used soap and it left a film that made my hair look like straw. Oh, well. I wasn’t there for a beauty contest.
Out of the shower, it was evident the plastic had a leak it had wet the protective adhesive which would eventually break down. The original Sticker came back in to replace it. The IV was still in good shape.
Back in bed, I was in a clean gown and smelled much better. From there on out, though, I used what the tech referred to a baby wipes but they were thick moist pads. In the mornings, she would give me a wet washcloth to wash my face and she had to be happy with that much.
There were more visitors. The administrator and HR came in (not together) and we had good conversations. The admin had a meeting to go to. She seems to thrive on such. Fine by me. I throve all I want to. By that time, my voice was getting next to squeaky. I figured it was because of the oxygen.
Speculation about the winter storm’s approach was high.
Getting desperate, I went to the church page I manage and put out a plea for some good vegan food. Our congregation boasts some fine cooks and I knew it would be tasty. Just as I was going to delete the request (I had embarrassed myself), my tray came and I had to close my notebook. Supper was starches again. Sometimes there were pintos or garbanzos but not always. I was borderline starving and it was no one’s fault. I just couldn’t stomach the food.