Ten-Finger Exercises

I'm whining, while others who could be aren't.

After two days of trying heat on my pulled back muscle, I'm sitting here on an ice pack. I've tried gently stretching--no good. Heat was okay while it lasted, but then I'd move and --zowie--accompanied by a gasp.

It's been a full day, even though as un-strenuous as possible. One poor patient was in a lot of pain and had no caregiver when we arrived. Her husband is deafer than any post I've ever met, and doesn't want anything to do with medecine even if she told him what to do. And her judgment is a little off, not bad but still...morphine does that. Her sister-in-law, who is supposed to be her caregiver, is gone and won't be back till Saturday, the patient reported evenly. It made perfect sense to her that somebody couldn't expect to be counted on every day during hunting season, for goodness sakes. Not with a doe tag.
Something will have to be done, but I'm not sure what the outcome will be.

Another patient has decided he's going to live. The nurse didn't expect him to make it through last weekend, and he's much better. He's trying to get his wife to let him buy an old van to fix up "so I'll have a reason to live." What a twinkle he has in his eye! Today was their 40th anniversary, and she was going to the store to pick up the ring he put on layaway for her before he got sick.

Arlene has electricity now, and is putting up some insulation this weekend. She's hoping to get a loan to put in a septic tank and running water. The romance of living with a port-a-potty must have gone sour. She's skinny as a rail and looks to have lost more pounds, but then she isn't very interested in food anyway. Fruit and vegetables and beans and rice are about all she will commit to.