Dear Diary,
But something always has to happen first. Why do I, the customer that I am at the end of the day, have to show complete apathy for the seriousness of the situation to be recognised? Dogs that bark don't bite. So they say. Anyone who knows me knows that I like to defend my opinion with arguments. Especially when it comes to the „past“. Memories. Just this morning I heard my favourite saying when I still hadn't had my coffee by ten o'clock. I wondered if I had forgotten it.
As if my brain could forget.
What else can I answer? My brain just doesn't forget.
I just didn't want to create any more chaos. My carer already has. She forgot about airing the room, even though I reminded her twice. But both times she got distracted by something else on the way to the balcony door. It's kind of cute. You have to know that it's maybe five metres from my bed to the balcony. And right now, well, I'm stuck on the inhalation that's been finished for 15 minutes...
But these are all just little things. Nice anecdotes that don't kill anyone.
Otherwise, things can quickly go wrong if a carer is not fit. And doesn't notice my alarm. Or ignores it, even better. Telling me like a prayer wheel that it would never happen in an emergency - but we're talking about the last emergency - doesn't make it any better. Even the ridiculous claim that nothing like this has ever happened is simply counterproductive.
Uh nah, it happens all the time, but you don't even notice it, that's the thing.
And again I could despair of finding the diplomatically correct words.
We have had cases where I would have wanted to get up at seven because I had a business appointment at 8:00. And there too, just like during my last panic attack, I was refused to get up. First because the nurse had such a severe migraine that he heard my alarm but unfortunately could not get up. His pain had been too severe. Secondly, because although he was with me an hour later, he turned me around against my will and without asking, with the famous words that I should go back to sleep. And he was gone. Gone, in the truest sense of the word. Only the day service ringing the doorbell for 10 o'clock managed to get my carer to get up. And of course, during the handover, they tell me that until just now I had slept like a log. I can't hear it any more, it's true. Unfortunately, it is only through constant repetition that fairytale wishful thinking does not become truth.
No wonder that during the recent handover it was again „forgotten“ to say that the patient was panicking and had a pulse of over 120 (about twice as high as usual) because he had been ignored for another 1.5 hours. You'd have to notice something about it in the first place.
Due to the seriousness of this matter, I finally had to turn to the management. Talks with the nurse herself were fruitless. Even when friends of mine bring up the subject of alcohol at work, especially Jackie Cola from a can in the morning, it is followed by one excuse after another. The whole thing then goes so far that my parents are told that I am totally into meat and the smell of meat-containing food. That's why the orderly holds his meat in a plastic bag under my nose after he tears off my mask without warning and without asking. My parents almost fall out of their chairs. My dad can't help asking if my keeper is sure about this. Yes, absolutely sure, we had discussed it that way and I had specifically asked for it. I become clear:
What nonsense. I hate meat. I've already told you a hundred times that I live vegan out of conviction.
I'm running out of polite denials here.
He sticks to his opinion. We would have discussed it that way and I would want it that way.
What follows is the aforementioned panic night and, in theory, other services that could hardly have run more satisfactorily.
It breaks my heart.
Sincere and honest.
But here and now, a change is needed. One of the rare situations in which I put my own needs before those of others.
