Life and Death

I wonder what percentage of people have been homeless? For some reason, numbers make any situation more real. They shed light on a otherwise unsure situation. My 6 month old niece has to have a liver transplant. There's a 58% chance she'll live 15 years following the surgery. Does that make it more or less scary. To know the truth about it. It's a 28% higher chance then the last surgery. I don't know. It's scary to think about. Perhaps death is more scary then life? Both are unknown territory to an extent.

The employees at the funeral home next door come every morning. Come and go daily. I wonder what  specific jobs they have. I wonder how they look death in the eyes every day, and still see purpose in life. How can that not get to a person?! When I was working at the nursing home, I felt like I was running from death. Dodging it. They say that people die in threes. It happened to be eerily accurate in the nursing homes. Within days, 3 people would pass. Three people that I saw for half of my day more then half of the week. People that I formed bonds with. When they were suffering from Alzheimer's or cancer or hutchinson's disease. Some with no family at all to visit them. Others with family that came...but had no real clue of the extent of the situation their loved one was experiencing. When you care for people, you learn their likes, their dislikes. You see them at their  best and worst. Their most vulnerable. Some angry. Some unaware themselves. Alzheimer's is so eery that way.

One individual was 94 years old. She was the cutest, tiniest woman I have ever seen. Half my height with more then twice my compassion. At dinner, she sat at the table in her wheel chair uninterested in her cups of pureed food. How can you blame her. She was so thin. So fragile. When lifting her to get her ready for bed or position her, it was like the most inviting hug ever. Warmth illuminated from her. During meals especially, while trying to pursway her to eat, she'd talk about her relatives that she could see in the distance. How they were dressed so beautifully for the ball. She'd describe them dancing. It was crystal clear. As if she was really viewing their elegance and the softness in their steps.  At night she'd pray. Always thanking God. Never asking for help. Never complaining. She was amazing. At first it scared me, I must admit. It was 'weird'. But after getting to know her...it was inspirational more then anything. I felt close to her. I don't think I'll ever forget her. She passed away in her sleep. There's no doubt in my mind that she's with her Lord.

There are so many. One that was my favorite. He had the most handsome smirk. And was almost always smiling. At least when I cared for him. I knew that he needed to go to the bathroom before bed every night or their would be a mess. Others would ask him if he needed to go, or change him before bed, which always had the same results. Not only was it more work for me on the night shift later. But it would upset him. It would upset me too. He lost one leg to gangrene. Even though he was in a wheel chair, he'd scoot around with the one foot. Turned his own wheels with his hands. Did laps around my hall. Was curious. And fun. He'd come to me before bed for his ensure. And would talk if you gave him the chance too. It was slow and usually one word. But he was so much fun. Still makes me smile to think about him. I heard that his designated decision maker, his son I believe, was told they needed to amputate his other leg because of gangrene. And the son declined. Said that his dad wouldn't want to live that way. And his dad instead died...with one leg intact.

Another, (who's names I am withholding to respect their privacy, and keep my word in the hippa policy) whom had cancer, was usually pretty quiet. Pretty dependent. She could walk still and for the most part, cared for herself. So I felt like it was hard to get to know her at first. Especially since I was on graveyard shift and she slept well through the night. Towards the end, she'd sit up in her bed for most of the night. Usually reading. Sometimes just sitting there. Always different colored silk clothes wrapped around her head. She was feeling sick. She was depressed. I can feel it as if it were myself. She was surrounded by the harsh reality even more then I was. Some of the charge nurses would shun the CNAs talking to the patients. They thought it wasn't in our job description I guess. But sadly, they are misinformed. Because after our shifts, we had paperwork to do also. On each individual. And in this home, my job was to record each person's actions through the night. As well as their mood. It was also my job to answer her call light and report her meditational needs to the nurse who passed meds. I had to listen to meet her needs. But even more so...I had to listen to provide comfort. I had to. And I wanted to. Sometimes the guys and gals were hard to talk to. Because what can you say to someone on hospice to provide comfort. Sometimes I'd try to be chipper and positive. But some would find that insulting in their depression and gloom. They'd assume I couldn't know how they felt. But I felt it with them in the most sincere form. Their fear. Their pain. Their sadness. Their confusion. It was painted on their faces in the most visable colors. I wept for them sometimes when my shift ended.

This one was 'getting close' the nurses and CNAs said. She was in so much pain. She'd cry in private. She looked like death already. Her eyes were sunk in. Her strength was next to none. She started having a hard time holding her own weight and would fall because she was too proud to ask for help. Or maybe she just didn't realize that she needed help. It was in my job description to clean the body after the person passed. Can you imagine this task? The shell of a being...empty. Limp. Lifeless. Having to transport them to a tub and remove their clothing. Wash their body of any urine and feces that exited their body during death. Take this coldening body out of the tub and dress it to place in a freshly made bed. To arrange the body to look 'pleasing' for their family to come and view. The other CNAs said 'It's not that bad.' They said they'd help me the first time. I prayed so hard that it wouldn't happen at all. Let alone on my shift. Every night I felt like it would be the last. I was scared for her. Equally scared for myself. After several nights of dreading this. It happened. It happened right after my shift ended.

To me, it seemed like I was a coward. Like I couldn't handle the job capabilities. I'm sure everybody at one point or another thinks about death. What do you think about it? Does it scare you? Do you believe the spirit leaves the body. Do you think the spirit watches the body like in movies and stories about near death situations? Where does the spirit go? DO you believe in the biblical idea of heaven and hell. Do you believe you'll be judged? Do you believe that's just it..the end. Nothing more. Or reincarnation? Or something less thought of/discussed. Ever had a near death experience and actually was able to watch your body from above. An Outer Body Experience? I've heard others say that they can do this intensionally.

If that's the case, then the spirit isn't really 'trapped' in our bodies. And if the spirit leaves in death, then does that mean life is closer to death then we think. How can some grasp and touch this easier then others. My knowledge of spirituality is pretty broad. I can get pretty deep in conversation about the ideas of it through several people's eyes. Christians. Atheists. Natives. Mormons. Wiccans. And there's a bit I've adapted as my own thoughts that I see to be realistic or likely because of my own experiences. But really...nothing is for sure, is it? Except...that we all die. So I guess there should be some comfort in it because it's definite.  There's a definite beginning and ending. Is the purpose of life to find the purpose of life? :-/

Whatever it is...I feel it necessary to value life. Because if I don't, then what a waste.

Successfully failing?

Yes, that's right. I reign supreme at failing! What's that? You think you can fail better then me!??!! No way! It's what I do. I do it best. I've done it my entire life...so I've pretty much perfected it. But don't fear!! One day, you may conquer failure also! :)

A 'friend' got me a job cleaning rooms at a busy, understaffed motel. I didn't want the damn job to begin with! I don't want any fuckin' jobs. Don't get me wrong, ideally, I sorta wish I was normal and could get/hold on to a job. But I've had so many jobs in the last fourteen years...and each has ended the exact same fuckin' way. Started the same way for that matter. Me ending up being all excited that I got a job. Me doing a good job...Me ready to say fuck it. Not sure why. I've tried to analyze it. In my defense, there's always so many other things going on. Maybe it's just justification. Everyone else sure as fuck seems to understand it. Their answers ranging from me being lazy, to mental disorders, to it all being in my head. Like 'If you believe you're going to fail, then you will.' FUCK YOU! I do fail. Every time! At least as far as jobs go. I don't like being in a state of submission to a total stranger aka boss guy who is disrespectful. I don't like being out of my comfort zone. I don't like getting behind on all my other responsibilities. I don't like being away from my kid, and relying on someone else to care for him. I don't like being consumed in a position that leaves me mentally and physically drained for a rate that is barely meaningful. I don't like serving others. I, I, I, I. I know. I'm selfish. Maybe I am all the things people call me. I don't like being in such great pain that I can't hardly force myself to function.

But I took the job anyways. Going against my best judgment. I worked myself up to believe that I could do it...like every other time. I felt better about myself for having the job. There were no real struggles with the job exactly. Just struggles in my mind.

Halloween Festivities and Odd Ramblings

     We got a late start on our Halloween festivities. This was the first time my two year old really decorated pumpkins. First he painted a white one, while I cleaned out and carved another. Of course, he soon lost interest and wanted to do the same thing mommy was doing. So I cut the bottom out of a small one he picked earlier today, and demonstrated how to clean the seeds and gunk out. He followed bravely. I thought that he would be weirded out by the texture, since he usually is kind of a clean freak about things getting on his hands. He went to town hollowing his out while I worked on my second. I sat a bowl out for him to put the seeds in just like I was. This time he didn't want to follow my lead. Dumped all of the seeds on the table and began playing with them. I almost felt irritated at the mess, but allowed it and realized he was learning through exploration. He used the spoon to dig some more guts out, before scooping the seeds back into the pumpkin. I had an urge to tell him that he was doing it wrong. Was annoyed by my thought process. Who says it's wrong? I want him to be unique and confident in his choices. I want him to be willing to go against the norm if he can or should. It made me chuckle. How simple and silly, that something like that would encourage so much thought. It's fun to watch him learn and be himself.
     As a parent, you have to allow freedom to an extent, in order to encourage decision making and the creation of a personality. I try to give him choices on a regular basis. Picking out which shirt he wants to wear, what he wants to drink, what book he wants to read, ect. There's so much that is predetermined in DNA. Right down to the way a person crosses their arms or hands. Then so much more is learned by observing and listening. The formation of speech, word choice, common sense, manners, life style, work ethics, attitude,  and morals. Why not allow him to do things "backwards" if he chooses to?
     Then my mind carries on the thoughts...what if giving him freedom of choice neglects to teach him the importance of following rules? I think that both can be obtained. It doesn't have to be so black and white. Certain rules have to be enforced for safety; his and others. And really, that's my main concern with "rules". Just as laws were started for citizen's safety. I think they were taken over board. It's become a thing of pushing beliefs on others. There shouldn't be laws about who can and can't marry; same sex marriage prohibitions. What reason could there be to that other then someone believes it's "sinful" or "wrong", so they prohibit it. That defeats the purpose. It doesn't allow the freedom every individual should have. It seems the same unjust rule making occurs in families often. From my own experience, that just makes a person, specifically a child feel more distant from their parents. Makes them feel unloved and judged.
     My mother, whom I refer to by her first name usually, but won't here I guess, refuses to let my now 20 year old brother do the dishes at her home. She wants them to be done "right", so doesn't risk letting him practice to learn. It rubs me wrong to think about it. He is an adult now and hasn't had the opportunity to learn many things that he should have known by now since the option wasn't there.
     Last week, my son finally overcame his fear of the vacuum when it's turned on. He was pushing it around while off, and I let him know that I had to vacuum my office and was going to turn it on. I warned him it would be loud, but it was okay, that it couldn't hurt him. He firmly gripped the handle, and didn't let go despite his somewhat startled response. Of course I kept my cool, but applauded him. And he started pushing it around again, making his way out of my office to the hall. "Now back it up so we can finish this room", I said. And he did, despite a bit of difficulty. Then he pushed it in the same place, right back out. I felt this urge to get the task done. An impatience with waiting and it being done incorrectly. If I learned that from my mother, then displaying it will just carry on that type of parenting when he's in my shoes 18 years from now. Plus, I hate the idea of him feeling like he can't do anything right because of my obsessive tenancies. I don't want him to feel inadequate like I always did around her.
     Anyways, totally venturing off subject...you know they are selling Obama and Romney masks at walmart for Halloween. I don't recall ever seeing other presidents masks. Well, maybe I did see a George Bush one years ago. But, uhm. Don't you think that's a little bit dangerous?!?! Look at how much controversy is happening as a result of the election as is. I can imagine the masks causing some negative feedback at the mouths of ignorant adults. Hell, I'm not wearing a Obama mask, and still have to listen to the fucking republicans rant about how they're going to vote for Mitt the Twit all the time. More annoying yet is when people stand by him without even knowing the facts. Do you know your facts?!? Are you going to vote? I hope so. I never used to think my vote counted. But I'd hate to feel guilty for not voting when the united states is crumbling even more at the hands of a lying selfish man. When's Hillary Clinton going to run again? I can't help but think the world would be a better place under a woman's reign. :)