Actually you should be beaten for that
I am inconsolable. What do you want me to say? Am I reinstating the hit list? A resounding no. I'd rather concentrate on other things. The medication plan has now been passed back to me after all. After another och, don't ask how many rounds of feedback and contributors, we have... tadaa, still no flawless plan. Totally absurd, now it says vitamin B12 again. I had never been prescribed that in my entire life. On the contrary. A miracle healer, no, alternative practitioner with Scientologist diagnostics (bioresonance therapy, the biggest humbug since homeopathy), determined, contrary to orthodox medicine, that I didn't have ALS but, among other things, a B12 deficiency. As a scientifically curious person, I also tried this rubbish in good faith. When the next check-up at the Friedrich-Baur-Institut revealed that my B12 levels were alarmingly high, I stopped taking the overpriced effervescent tablets. Miracle cure or not, this is not to be trifled with.
Some substances, such as vitamin C, you can take as much as you want. At most, it makes expensive wee-wee. But vitamin B12 is neurotoxic in higher doses. It damages the nervous system and leads to nervous diseases. In other words, exactly what we want to combat.
Back then, I was still a passionate fish eater and a piece of meat rarely made its way onto my plate, but it did. For breakfast, half-baked scrambled eggs with cheese or, if I was in a hurry, two Kas Kas Semmeln (for those who didn't live in Munich: crispy baked Leberkäse-with-a-quantity-of-smooth-melting-Allgäuer-Emmentaler-im-Bret in a roll) were the rule rather than the exception. Why should I have suffered from a B12 deficiency? It is an essential vitamin, and the body cannot produce it itself. But it is found in fish, eggs, shellfish and meat. To the sceptics, by the way, it is also found in nori and other algae. You can easily eat a vegan diet without having to fear a B12 deficiency. So, long story short, this shit has no place on the diet of an ALS patient. Why my nursing service writes this on it again and again and again, the guys and gals and divers probably don't know themselves. In the end, that's why it's now ended up back at my place. What an irony. With the one who doesn't give a damn about what is prescribed. As if I were a toddler unable to decide for myself whether to take a painkiller or not.
Why bother? Supposedly, the MDK is only interested in the documentation. That is why it is so important. Whether hand signs in the daily chart were falsified and the patient is in fact not receiving the care as written is something that no one checks. I'm not saying that people regularly pre-date here, but perhaps this has happened before in one of my many nursing services. So that they can bill on the first day or simply out of laziness. It's too bad when the patient kicks out his nurse at night because the nurse is asleep on every shift and doesn't hear the bell. And who wants to erase his hand signs for the next few hours, but the patient has unfortunately already made the originals disappear. Just in case. You never know.
Besides the medication schedule, there's more than enough other building sites to keep me busy. The daily schedule, the revision of my care instructions, a lot of technical gadgetry behind my blog, which I need for my birthday this year and which at this moment can only be described as dysfunctional at best. On a side note, it would be about time to write a business plan again. There is always something to do.
And the hit list? No time has always been an excuse for no desire. Yes. No desire. No desire to get upset. There are more important things to do. As a little reminder for all those who now feel addressed, but necessary and sensible. Everything will be all right. Eventually. Then.
Be well and stay healthy.
🤕
- Cover me up, strip me completely naked and „clean“ me in bed with surface disinfectant, then soap me from head to toe. And let me freeze for two hours until the washing is ready. More on this? You can find it here: Basic care
- Now I have certainty. My beloved sister is visiting. And takes photos of my mask, every time one of my carers claims that the band at the back is already behind my ears - it doesn't go any higher. I was mistaken, I have a perceptual disorder, I'm just imagining it. The photos, however, prove the opposite. Read more at here.
- „The new girl who knew everything better but couldn't do any of it. Who started every shift by explaining why she couldn't work today either. Instead, she preferred to spend her time drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes and making private phone calls on my balcony. Just like she did during her first induction. She refused to do the second one altogether, just like the documentation and care instructions. To read here. And here. Here too. And the here we still have.
- That could have backfired badly. We were lucky in our misfortune. Does someone have to die for something to - maybe - happen? My doctor is convinced that I should have been fever-free two days earlier. After three days of antibiotics, paracetamol, Ibu 600 and Novalgin, my body temperature has to go down permanently.
As is so often the case, my doctor was right. Even after one day, the fever went down noticeably and permanently. After two days it is practically gone. But I have to be given the antibiotic. Unfortunately, this information was lost because there was no documentation due to a lack of clear instructions from the management and due to a lack of serious control, everyone did what they thought was sensible. And because there was no handover. Because nurse A is always late and doesn't give a shit. And nurse B therefore plays the offended liver sausage like a toddler. No more talking to A. As a result, the patient gets twice the amount of antibiotics or, as in this case, none at all. Don't get me wrong, of course mistakes happen in nursing. No one means me any harm. But this must not happen.
But it happens. For the second time in four weeks, which is why it enters in podium position 3.
You can find the whole report here. - You still remember my Nail fold inflammation? It felt like months ago. It was during my sister's last visit to Germany. And she comes to see me - Yippieh! ? - is coming to visit me again next week. She'll be amazed when she sees this next week. It was almost better after my doctor said, please do not put anything on it. Just disinfect and leave it alone. Um, leave alone and trust the doctor, my nurses can't do that. Well, apart from the sort who, even after explicit reforestation, hardly complies with the request to store me properly at night.
Story to follow. A little teaser. Ploughman A has independently decided to stop disinfecting. Wait a minute? Yes, the same carer has just squeezed out pus. Strange things have been happening since he was forced to work for me by his PDl for days, completely exhausted and not at all receptive. I really - really really - think he has post-COVID. Carer B smeared Lavanid on him without any orders and without asking me. Carer C picked at it. Carer D removed the scab, even though the doctor specifically said we weren't allowed to do that. Carer E tells me that everything has healed perfectly and that I shouldn't tell my doctor about it. It can't really be that I'm supposedly in pain.
I inform my nurses and still inform my doctor. He comes by immediately. Inflammation again. Pus. Blood. Some contaminated ointment residue. Swab taken from skin and sent to lab. Thank you. To the whole team. - To serve up one of the most implausible old wives' tales I've ever heard to a surprise visitor who enters the flat with his own key on a Saturday morning. Of course he didn't drink the can of Jackie Coke. Some completely retarded person threw it in the rubbish and now the whole flat smells of it. He took it out of the rubbish to rinse it out. More on this? You can find it here: The insensitive sick person.
- The nurse who is incorrigible. Despite photographs of evidence, he cannot be convinced that ligaments that are too tight cause pain. With the result that I suffer a grade 1 decubitus behind the ear. Under the band of the respiratory mask, of all places. A place where wounds heal particularly well. Would you like a photo? You can find it in the detailed report here.
- The nurse who knew about the miraculous spontaneous healing of my toe when I hadn't even noticed it. And he informed my doctor, although he had neither looked at the toe nor asked me how I was feeling. Because if he had, he would have known that the pain was getting worse, not better. You can read about it here: His 7th words
- Discussion with a nurse about whether it is really nail inflammation, as my doctor claims. She is of a different opinion. If she has her way, I'll have to get a new chiropodist immediately. Mine did a very poor job and didn't even do anything about the ingrown nail. How can she judge this better than my doctor, who has already examined the injury twice with a scalpel and the like? (By the way, you can read here and here.) Because she has the problem too. Oh, guys, you're really getting on my nerves.
- Statement from three of my carers on what they think about sustainability and conservation. "I really don't care what happens to the earth after me.
