Random Thoughts

 

I haven't done a random post in ages upon.  I'd thought I'd do a proper chat, but I can't seem to marshal my thoughts into a full-blown coffee chat.   So, I thought I'd share all the random things that have strayed through my brain.  Sometimes these things have some connection but more often they are totally and completely random.

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How many times have I heard "Follow the Science!" in the past two years?  And now, almost as prevalent is the phrase "The science has changed."   

This is a fallacy...Science has had nothing to do with it.  

Science, definition: the intellectual and practical activity encompassing the systematic study of the structure and behavior of the physical and natural world through observation and experiment.

The KNOWLEDGE has changed and therefore the previous statements touted as fact have changed.  Science is a collection of facts proven to be true. The trouble thus far, has been statements are made before anyone has fully studied the thing. With a demand for answers immediately, the amount of time allotted to observation and experiments was severely limited.   Without knowledge of absolutes there is no science, only wild guesses, random theories and opinions. 

And no, it's not just related to this one thing.  It's been this way all through the history of ages.  And it will likely be this way many times in the future ages ahead.

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Her name was Miss Ola.  

When I began work at the nursing home, I was in the front office.  My jobs varied, sort of a girl Friday to the office administration and head of nursing.   My back was to the open office door and on my first day someone called to me softly from that open door.  I turned in my chair and there was Miss Ola.  She was a large woman in a wheelchair. She had the high cheekbones and nose of someone who had native American blood, and with her two short braids of black and gray hair this likeness was even more enhanced.

She leaned forward.   "Well, you're new, aren't you?'  "Yes ma'am..."  "Uhm Huh...Well I think you're 'bout big as me..."  and that was what she called me from that day forward.  

I never knew much about Miss Ola.  I don't know if she was married or had children or what her life work was.  Initially, I was just the person she came to when she'd run out of money for snuff.  I'd take her request to the woman who handled patient accounts and Miss Ola would have a fresh supply of Peach Snuff shortly thereafter.    She didn't discuss her past life and she didn't ask questions about my life.  

We were just mere acquaintances, but I was also her chosen advocate.   Every time she came to the office door she'd softly call out, "Big as me!"  When my position at the nursing home changed and I worked in activities and later social services she'd send the aids to look for "Big as me" if she had a need that wasn't being met elsewhere.

One day she came to me herself.  She slowly rolled her wheelchair from the first hall to the second hall where my social services office was located and knocked on the door.  I was astonished when I saw her there.   She'd always managed to stay fairly independent despite being in a wheelchair, but in the past year or so she'd been a little less independent, preferring to stick to the first hall where her room was located.  

'Miss Ola!  Why didn't you send someone to call me, I'd have come right away.'  "I need to tell you something, Miss.  And I don't want just anyone to hear me."  When I wheeled her in the office, she hung her head as though she was ashamed.  She didn't speak until I shut the door.   "Big as me...that nurse is hurting me." 

Only once had we had any issue with abuse in that facility.  A patient had been trying to pull out a feeding tube and the aid slapped the top of her hand gently to keep her from tugging on it the way one slaps a baby's hand when they are reaching for something they shouldn't touch.   Patients had done damage to themselves and introduced bacteria into the openings.  It was understood why the aid had slapped the patient's hand, but it was no excuse.  The aid was dismissed immediately.

I was alarmed.  Miss Ola had been a resident for twenty years, since the 1970s and she'd never complained of any of the staff.  She seemed to be on good terms with everyone.  I asked several questions and determined the staff member's name.    

Miss Ola apparently had her own name for everyone.  She called this one witch, devil and a few other choice words, but her physical description of the woman was enough to make the employee recognizable.  She was able to tell me what days the abuse occurred upon, and where.  It was just a matter of checking the work schedule and care schedule and matching the individual's name to the two schedules.  And then a physical examination by head of nursing to confirm the injuries.  There were bruises and skin tears, hidden under clothing.

Though our conversation had been completely private, two or three other residents filed reports at the same time with their favored staff members about this employee.  The head of nursing and the administrator had an immediate report.  

Honestly, life in a nursing home is like living in a tight neighborhood.  Even if residents don't become friendly with one another they live in this place and they fight and come together like any other neighborhood.    I don't know if it was planned that these residents would each report the employee on that particular day but it's not unlikely.   It was all done so quietly that no one of us was aware of the other staff members being informed.  We just all came together with the information at the same time.  

The person responsible was handling the patients in a very rough manner.  She'd been a long-time employee, and this was the first we heard of any abuses on her part.  She was dismissed within 24 hours.  I have my personal opinion of the woman and always had.  I wasn't surprised she'd proved to be rough with patients whom she felt were less likely to complain, who appeared friendless.  That was one reason why the whole staff was encouraged to befriend residents.

The abuse did something more to Miss Ola than cause a bruise or skin tear.   The first hint was in the way she hung her head as she came into my office.  She'd lost dignity in being treated thusly and having to report it to another to handle.   She seemed to fade bit by bit after that.  She was less interested in talking to others and had to be encouraged to go to the dining room.  I'd stop by to check on her now and then, but she didn't send for me again.  Even her favorite Peach Snuff lost its appeal.  Eventually she passed away, not a hard death but just a sort of gentle giving up of space.  There was no family to contact, no one who missed her.  But she isn't forgotten.  I remember her still.

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John's something of a political news junkie.  I've shared that before.  From the time we've met, he's followed the news that pertains to politics, both national and international.  Last night he shared with me that he'd watched some old 1970's and 1980's news reels and then he said "You know...in all these years, the talk hasn't changed one bit.  The same things they are concerned with today were the same things they were concerned with back then.  And it seems to me that in all that time, not one has done a thing."   

I wish I could adequately explain why I found his statement comforting.  But perhaps I can convey enough of it for you to understand.   On the one hand, if the only things they felt of concern were the same things that concerned them 50 years ago, then is the world really such a dire place?   And on the other hand, if that's all they worry themselves with, aren't we being granted a certain amount of safety because they're so intent on messing up those few areas that they aren't messing up still more?

Anyway, that's sort of where my thoughts ran the other night, but it was late and I was sleepy, so perhaps I make no more sense now than I did then.

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The news is on just about everyone's mind these days.   Someone on Instagram pointed out that we're literally bombarded with information these days.   Even if you intentionally try to ignore it, you're going to stumble across a jolting reminder of the current woes in someone's comments, posts or a blip of a reel in an ad, etc.   

I thought about that today on my way home.  When I was growing up, television was in most homes.  News came on at noon, usually a local area newscast.  At 6pm, another round of more detailed local and state news followed by national news.  And at 11pm one more round of local news.  Most households watched one of those broadcasts.   In my home, it was the 6pm news 'hour' that my dad watched.  

By the time I was an adult, there was a morning news broadcast that ran for a couple of hours and was a mix of real news, entertainment, weather, sports and such.  

There was a daily regional newspaper published that had national and state news reports and a weekly newspaper in most rural counties to cover very local news and serve as the legal organ for the county.  That was it.

Today the news is everywhere.  It's on YouTube, it's on Facebook, it's on Instagram.  It's couched in ads; it's repeated in posts from people whom you follow for reasons other than their ability to report the news.  It's on tv 24/7.  It's on your phone.  It's on the homepage of your computer.  News is always right in your face whether you've chosen to follow it or not.    

It's always been my opinion that most news programs do their level best to 'hook' you with their updates or titles and in those hook blurbs they try to scare peanuts out of you in the great hopes that you'll be listening to them again and again for updates on the dire things they have produced.  Its ratings driven.  If they can drawer you in and keep you coming back, they win, you lose.

What do you lose?  Time.  Peace of mind.  The ability to control and limit anxiety.  Sleep.  Freedom to focus on more pleasant things.  The ability to find comfort and shelter in your home because they've invaded every facet of your life.  

There's even more pressure because if you follow multiples of sources.  Everyone calls everyone else a liar.  HOW can you possibly sort it all out to know anything?!  You seemingly have only two choices and that is distrust everyone from the news reporters to the man who speaks to you on the street or trust them all which leads to complete confusion as this one refutes that one.

For myself?  I don't choose to listen to news.  I do my best to drown it out.  I wait for information, patiently or impatiently.  I wait and let things sort themselves out and try to form opinions.  

 It's hard to ignore the news at times, especially when John is going to have on some news every hour on the hour from 7am until 11pm each day.  He wants to call things to my attention.  "Did you hear that?!" and when I say, "No", he will repeat it or rewind the program so that I have to listen to it.  Now and then I have to remind him that this is HIS addiction, not mine and that I purposely have chosen to be news free or to listen to music or read.  I drown out the world most importantly drowning out the stinking news.  It's the only way I can hang on to sanity.  

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John went on a movie binge Saturday.  We watched several. Amazon Associate link > "The Darkest Hour", a 2017 film about Winston Churchill's initial days as Prime Minister of England under King George V.  I enjoyed this one, though we watched it in segments between visitors so that I missed some portions of it.  Having watched 'The Crown' (his second time as prime minister), I was already interested in Churchill, but this movie made me that much more interested.

By supper time, we'd moved on to "Victoria and Abdul" <Amazon Associate Link > I think Judith Dench has played Victoria on more than one occasion.  This movie was another sad reminder to me of how weary royalty must be of people who jockey for position and true friendship is always suspect.   It was not a bad movie by any means.  I personally admire the scene where Victoria gave a fairly accurate accounting of her regency and her personal characteristics to her son Prince Albert.

Then we watched "Charlie and The Chocolate Factory" <Amazon Associate Link> I've shared before that the scene with Charlie and his Grandpa George is always a wonderful reminder to keep money in perspective.  When Charlie tells his family he won't keep the golden ticket but sell it because they could use the money, his Grandpa George calls him over to his side of the bed.  He explains that money is not a rare thing, more is printed every day. (True enough!) It's what he says next that is pivotal:  "There are only five golden tickets.  There will never be any more.  Would you trade that ticket for something as common as money?"

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