Re: UK Denying Treatment to People for Being Offensive

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This is terrifying to me.  Putting aside the issue of crimethink, I was stuck in a hospital (and later nursing home) for a number of weeks because I required 24/7 palliative care.  Between the pain itself and the incredible amount of Dilaudid they had to keep circulating through my system even as I slept, I was completely out of my goddamned mind.  I couldn’t make my own medical decisions because much of the time I was delirious, and even when I seemed alert, I had very little grasp on what was happening to me.  (I refused food for a full two weeks, all the while complaining that the nurses were starving me.)

My short term memory was shot (I ended up being blessed with permanent amnesia), and I was an absolute fucking bitch, screaming all sorts of abusive things at every female who came in contact with me.  (Yes, just the women, apparently.)

I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.  I’m normally the world’s most charismatic patient, but between the pain and the drugs and the trauma (both physical and emotional), I was an absolute hellion to the poor people at the hospital.  (From what I understand, the nursing home staff deserved me.)

I didn’t have any mental health issue to help account for my behavior, and it wasn’t until I was readmitted (a few weeks after my release) that they realized the extent to which my “medically-induced psychosis” had influenced my behavior.  (One of the palliative care nurses confided in me that she’d assumed I was just a bitch.)

So yeah, the idea of being abandoned to that kind of suffering and ultimately left to die of shock both terrifies and angers me.

FACEBOOK: Mattress Cover

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The pillow-topped mattress cover stands among the 21st century’s most nefarious inventions. Sure, it’s machine washable — only then it takes three and a half days’ worth of tumble drying (while you’re stuck reciting the necessary incantations out of the Necronomicon Ex Mortis in properly-accented Kandarian) before it’s ready to go back on.

Also, I’m about 40% certain that ••••’s is made out of human flesh. (It came to us from an old folks’ home, along with my grandmother’s haunted mattress.)

FACEBOOK: Getting Old

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I must really be getting old, because senility has evidently started to creep in; [my kid] left the house this morning frustrated to tears with my inability to recall the name of the song “with the music video with the piano at the beginning that we saw a long time ago on YouTube.”

First names, then faces. Won’t be long before •••••• has me sent off to a nice, quiet rest home — where I will find myself in the care of those lovely nurses from Silent Hill.

Day 12

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My Grandmother has been hospitalized with heart failure, I’m in a nursing home, and my parents are basically raising my child.

It’s been twelve days since my hair has been washed, twelve days since I’ve last eaten, and I really, REALLY have to pee.

Now I find out that the nursing home doesn’t actually have a pharmacy at its disposal; it takes time to order and receive prescriptions.

And the nurse’s assistant spilled the contents of the bedpan all over my skirt AND the bed. She put a pad over the bed and said they’d change the sheets tomorrow.  The skirt she threw in with my clean clothes.

And these motherfuckers are supposed to reteach me how to walk?

To top it all off, I have a roommate. More on that later, I’m sure.