Tag Archives: Family

Too early for desperate measures….

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Ffolkes,

“Extremism in defense of liberty is no vice.
Tolerance in the face of tyranny is no virtue.”

~~ Barry Goldwater ~~

violet-boys-2

Violet Moore & sons, circa 1917….

Image from the Moore Family archives….

Hajime…. The people you see in the above photo are my relatives, to wit: My grandmother, my father, and his younger brother, one of two he had. When the photo was taken, I believe my grandfather was still off fighting in WWI, somewhere in Europe. I love it, and not just because they’re my ‘people’, as they’d say in the South. It’s a great snapshot of the time, & given the personal connection, tells me a lot about the people who are in it. In particular, though I didn’t know her until much later in her life, the expression on my grandmother’s face tells me a story, and enhances what I know of her, with her kindness, humor, and patience obvious for anyone with wit to see….

As an old fart with broken emotions, just looking at this picture makes me a little weepy, but, in a good way. I guess the old saw among women, regarding tears, is true; some tears are happy tears, that come when one feels so much love, it has to come out, and the tears are how they can be shared. Maybe it’s not true, but, it feels true…. So be it. It’s family, and needs no excuse for love to be felt…

I guess such an emotional opening rather limits the direction we can take from here. Rather than try to find one that will efficiently segue into the material below, I’ll just use the “fade away” method to move us along to where we need to go. Such indulgence isn’t at all normal, but, when have we ever worried about being normal? To be honest, I wouldn’t know quite how to react if anyone ever accused me of being so… but, that’s another story, for another time. For now, we’ll just do this, and be done with it….

Shall we Pearl?….

“But first, are you experienced?”

~~ Jimi Hendrix ~~

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I spent a lot of time this morning, pre-pearl, to write a friend to whom I owed a letter; unfortunately, this pushed me over into time I needed to spend to get this done. The end result of this is not having the time to… wait a minute! I’ve got a Tardis! What was I thinking? Okay, never mind. We’ve got classical music today, simply because I like it. Deal with it; I must, and so must y’all…. Try to enjoy it, anyway… It is, after all, some of the best music ever played, y’know?….

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Mozart Symphonies 1-20

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Comedy_Tragedy

Confidentially Paranoid

Only when the bright sunlight of dreams draws nigh
can the dark glass of reality factor true value..
Destiny’s horses run in fear as time goes dry,
for grappling with fate in such traitorous venue.

In pallid costumes made of graven cast-off tales,
fallen angels and demons show the measure of faith.
No sad transactions should escape these well-marked trails,
no angry relatives cast insults to a sedentary wraith.

Meaning can always hide in literal cold intent,
yet show mere facets of honor to perishable youth.
Sincere contentions leave with sorrowful bent,
while bastardly arguments fill in poorly for the truth.

Gone are moments filled with florid blasts of rhyme
left to molder on the shoulders of unreasonable hope.
Only courage can save these measures of unspoken time
to gather new issues, powerfully broad, painful in scope.

~~ gigoid ~~

2/25/2015

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pearls_3

Naked Pearls

Fun with Karma….

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“…The Universe is thronged with fire and light,
And we but smaller suns, which, skinned, trapped and kept
Enshrined in blood and precious bones, hold back the night.”

~~ Ray Bradbury ~~

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“It is not only for what we do that we are held responsible,
but also for what we do not do.”

~~ Moliere ~~

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“Everyone who lives dies, but not everyone who dies has lived.”

~~ No Fear ~~

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“You can’t just feel happy; to feel anything you have to feel everything.”

~~ Callan Williams ~~

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“If you would know a man, observe how he treats a cat.”

~~ Subtle Bee ~~

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“We’re tossed by the winds of fate, Maggie Mae.
Once we end where they blow us, we make of ourselves what we will.”

~~ Niall Feeney, in Nora Roberts’ “Born In Fire” ~~

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“It’s so much more friendly with two.”

~~ Piglet, Pooh’s Little Instruction Book, inspired by A. A. Milne ~~

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Well, there you go… or, rather, there ’tis. Done, and done in time, if not comfort. So far today, I’ve written a long letter, had two cuppas, and faked a routine. I’ve also completed a Pearl, for what it’s worth. To me, it’s worth what I paid for it, if nothing else. Y’all will have to make up your own minds as to whether the cost was worth it, or not. Me, I’m outta here. Of course, I’ll be back, but, I don’t want to scare anybody…. See ya, ffolkes….

Y’all take care out there,
and May the Metaphorse be with you;
Blessed Be, dearest Carole, Mark,Theresa, & Richy
and everyone else, too…

When I works, I works hard.
When I sits, I sits loose.
When I thinks, I falls asleep.

Which is Why….

Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes,
I just sits.

gigoid, the dubious

The *only* duly authorized Computer Curmudgeon.

PLEASE STOP READING THIS MESSAGE NOW.

“SCRAM!!!!!!!!!!”- Oscar the Grouch

Featured Image -- 2780

À bientôt, mon cherí….

A budgie in the hand, and two more on ice….

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Ffolkes,

     Part III of Repercussions….

On a day in mid-August of 1984, I was working once again at Napa State Hospital (NSH) as a Psychiatric Technician. Since the adolescent program where I previously worked had closed, I was assigned to a unit designated T8. The T-building is a two-story edifice which encompasses enough space for 10 units housing up to 45 adult individuals each, an industrial kitchen with two separate dining rooms, serving meals in both rooms in rotation, for eight of the units, and several program offices for the Program managers and support staff.

The population was all male, in a program whose purpose was to treat a variety of different diagnoses. The residents of the program, who were diagnosed with Schizophrenia, Bi-Polar Disorders, Personality Disorders, along with a wide variety of other psychiatric conditions, were housed together on eight units with dormitories where they slept at night. On this particular late summer’s day, the men on T8 were relatively quiet, as everyone tried to cope with the stifling heat common to the area at this time of the year. The buildings at NSH were built in the 1950’s, all of concrete, and could be very uncomfortable.

A couple of hours into the shift, we escorted our charges out the door, downstairs to the hallway leading to the dining room for dinner. It is always the most dangerous part of the shift; the residents are hungry, and the walk to the dining room necessarily leaves the staff spread apart in order to keep an eye on everyone. The team I worked with was a good one, and with all of us staying alert, we got to the dining room and supervised the clients, who were conversant with the routine, until all were seated and eating, except a couple of stragglers still in line.

The phone on the wall rang, and one of the kitchen employees picked up to answer. She listened a moment, then turned to quickly address us nursing staff, saying in a strained voice, “T6 needs help, stat!” “Stat” is the medical code word for an emergency situation, requiring staff to respond as fast as possible to lend assistance. Two of us immediately broke into a run, out of the door to the left down the hallway to the stairway door leading up to T6. We hit the open hall door at a full run and bounded up the stairs, slowing as we came to the doorway to scan the situation before entering into the main day hall of the unit.

To the left was the medication room door, bottom half closed, top open to the room. A female staff member in the open upper half pointed across the day hall at a resident there, saying only, “that’s him” In the middle of the room, near the chairs grouped in front of the TV, lay another of the residents, curled into a ball and shivering violently. A female staff member could be seen in the nursing office, still calling for help. No one was in the TV area; most of the clients were on the way to the dining room, as were most of the staff, so my teammate, named Lee, and I were the first responders at the scene. I looked straight ahead from the door as I moved into the room, and saw a sight I will see in dreams for the rest of my days, burned indelibly on my memory in an instant that lasted forever.

I saw the body of a male staff member, obviously unconscious; he lay on his back straight in front of me about 10 feet away. I recognized him as the T-6 shift lead, a friend named Al, who had oriented me to the program when I first came on board. I observed that he was breathing, but his complexion had a very bad looking, chalky grey cast to it. Another 15 feet beyond where he lay paced the apparent perpetrator, who immediately began yelling at me in a threatening voice, shouting, ” Yeah I did that, come and get me!.” He was about 6’1″, approximately 190 lbs., appeared to be in good shape, and very obviously was in an agitated psychotic state, just coming down after an explosion of rage, and still pumped up to fight.

As I approached him, I had to step over the body of my friend, and very carefully moved toward the agitated individual, on full alert and fully adrenalized. Time had slowed to a crawl, and I could hear the harsh breathing from the aggressor as he paced in a tight circle, mumbling to himself between yells in my direction. Lee, the other staff who had come in with me, is an experienced PT, and like me, a veteran of such situations.

     He silently crossed behind me to the left, quickly circling around to the opposite side, so we could approach from both directions. As I stepped up to the aggressor, I casually took his left arm, just as Lee did the same on the other side. Both of us had been trained to use a special hold which allows control of the arm without stressing it by putting it in unnatural positions, allowing you to use your weight to control the arm, quickly tiring the subject. He began to try rip his arms from our grasp, yelling obscenities at us, and flailing about.

Lee was experienced, but only weighed about 110 lbs. dripping wet, and I could tell he wasn’t going to be able to hold the right arm much longer, and I would then be the unhappy recipient of an attempted blow to the head. I had to think fast, so I dropped my weight while holding his arm, then lifted him upward until his weight went onto his toes, just enough that I was able to control the direction of our movement.

     I quickly directed all three of us right into the chairs a few feet away, knowing that I could direct him hard enough to cause his legs to run into the arm of the heavy chair, causing him to imbalance and fall over to the floor, with me still on top grimly keeping a death-grip on his arm. This unfortunately left Lee underneath him, but as I knew he would, he wriggled free, still holding the right arm, and we were then able to use our combined weight to hold him securely on the floor until more help arrived.

Very soon after we got control of the still wildly struggling individual, more people arrived, helped us to restrain him, then per procedure, move him to a secure room, where he could be restrained with leather straps on a bed until he regained control, as the psychotic rage passed. Once he was secure, Lee and I returned to the day hall where Al still lay, being examined by the on-duty physician, surrounded by silent and worried looking staff. A paramedic team arrived with a gurney stretcher, Al was lifted onto it gently, and rushed to the emergency room at the nearest hospital a few miles away. The doctor was only able to stand there shaking his head sadly, with a grave expression, saying over and over, “it’s bad, it’s bad”. After writing up the incident reports, Lee and I finished our shift on our unit, quietly raging inside but still outwardly under control.

After our shift ended, we went to the hospital to see if Al had been stabilized and/or had regained consciousness; before we left work, we had heard only periodic updates that told us he was still in surgery. When we arrived, we were told he was in a coma, in critical condition, and being monitored for fluid pressure on the brain. His prognosis was serious and guarded, meaning the doctors didn’t know whether he would recover or not, only time would tell.

Four days later, Al died without ever waking up. The doctors explained that he had apparently been struck full in the face, a massive blow to the nose. The doctors related he had received in essence two blows, one to the face and nose, and one to the back of the head when he fell to the floor. In reality, he never stood much chance of a full recovery; even if he had lived, the likelihood of a severe loss of brain function would almost certainly have made him a full-time bed patient, requiring full nursing care to survive. He would never have been able to speak, or walk, or hold his family again.

   Al was survived by his wife and four children. At the funeral a day after his death all of us who had worked with Al stood by his casket at the memorial service as we and his family bid him a tearful farewell. We could but stare in shock, and wonder at the terrible waste of a good man’s life, silent as the sadness filled us.

And I, I was filled with a such a sense of rage and sorrow, such waves of pain and anguish that I could barely speak for the clenching of my jaw. For the first time in my life and career, I had been unable to protect someone I had cared for, and I was filled with an immensely deep sense of regret for having arrived on the scene too late to save my friend…..

     My equilibrium was completely shattered, and I could not find my center, nor even momentary peace, despite recognizing that we had done as much as we could, and held no personal responsibility for his death. That knowledge gave me no comfort, and I entered the realm of the “walking dead”, gripped by madness and and soul-deep pain….

To be continued…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Dozer

Kowabunga!