Day 8 (Thursday - April 3, 2014)

I feel a lot better today than I did last Thursday which is when I am admitted into this hospital. The therapists come by. The doctor said it is okay for me to sit in my chair for a half hour at a time. So they help me transfer into my chair which goes pretty smooth this time because I feel a lot stronger and I am a lot more used to this bed. By this I mean I am now familiar with what rails and stuff to grab to help me sit up and transfer and the weird way this air cushion gives. My mattress at home is a lot harder. So I transfer pretty much unassisted today. The therapists are happy.

My ass hurts but it feels good to sit up and be out of bed and to take a stroll through the halls, just to get out of the room for awhile and get out of my head.

The social worker comes by and tells me they are trying to find a longer term care facility for me to go to. I raise concern about my contempt for state run nursing homes. She assures me these longer term facilities are basically like hospitals they are just for longer term patients. She says there are two such facilities in the St. Louis area and they may be all full so they might not even take me, but she says she will talk to them and we will see what happens. One of the places is called Kindred, the other is called Select. Great names.

The pain and spasms and muscle stiffness and tightness are making me very grouchy today. So I am already pretty irritable when Dr. Orville Shittenfucker comes in my room. He can see I am not in a good mood. I tell him to leave me alone. I need to be left alone. He leaves. When I suffer I hate people standing there watching me like it is some sort of fucked up show, Especially Doctor Asshole.

So after I kind of straighten myself out, I watch the therapy channel, I take some drugs. I fall asleep.

Day 9 (Friday - April 4, 2014)

My mom brings me this very cool new Sony camcorder to make my Lamsonacare movie with. It is very cool. I like it. It takes me awhile to learn how to use it but I finally figure out at least how to record with it. I record my first little installment of Lamsonacare the movie.

A lady comes to my room. She is a representative of one of these long term care facilities the social worker tells me about yesterday. This lady represents a place called kindred and says they have a bed there for me if I am interested. I am. She says the name of this place is Kindred. She says it is is like a little hospital inside a hospital. Apparently they have their own little wing of a hospital called St. John’s. This is coincidental in two ways. First, the hospital is located almost right next door to Missouri Baptist, which is where I am at right now; Second, St. John’s is actually where I was born - where young baby Lamson came into the world.

So I am thinking for this Lamsonacare movie I am making about my stay in the hospital, this could be a whole full circle ironic twist kind of thing. So I tell her okay I will go to this place. I am supposed to be taken there tomorrow via ambulance since I am stuck in this bed until my ass wound is healed.

The therapists come by to get me out of bed again. Right about the same time another lady shows up just as I get up into my chair. She is very attractive. It turns out she is also a representative of one of these long term care type facilities - the place called Select. I ask her if she did not hear I am already going to that Kindred place at St. John’s, but she says it is my choice.

So we talk and it turns out this Select place is located inside St. Joseph’s hospital. St. Joseph’s is in St. Charles, right down the road from where I live. All my friends and family are from St. Charles. So I figure this is great - a lot more convenient. I can even just take the bus home when I am released. Plus I am already familiar with the staff and stuff. I have been to this place before. So I decide to go there. I go there tomorrow.

The therapists are waiting there the whole time while we have our little chat. The Select representative lady leaves. On with the fucking physical therapy! I take a stroll through the hallways again. It is very refreshing. I am feeling good about all this. I am in a good mood.

To make matters better, since I was hurting and so miserable yesterday, they adjust my medication. so not only am I feeling less pain now, but I also have a pleasant laid back buzz going on. I am not even that disturbed when I see Doctor Orville Buttfucker come into my room. He is actually being nice. He asks me if I am having a better day, because the day before I was miserable and grouchy and told him to leave me alone as soon as he enters my room.

He goes on to tell me they are sending me to a longer term care facility tomorrow and I tell him I know, that I have already talked to the social worker and the different reps about it already. I cannot believe how nice Doctor O.R. is being today. I find it is that way a lot of times with asshole bully types. If you act like a fucking asshole toward them, they tend to actually act nice.

I guess because he knows how I feel about going to a nursing home, he starts very nicely explaining to me the difference between going to a nursing home and one of these long term care facilities. I let him know I know the difference and that I am cool with going to this Select place. We are actually being civil to each other.

Doctor O keeps being pleasant as he goes on to explain how he viewed the CAT scans of my lower body. Suffice it to say, for a crippled guy, I have been around a lot and done a lot of stuff, put my body through a lot of shit - lived hard There is a lot of damage down there - broken legs, broken hip, steel rod in my right femur.

So he starts to lecture me, but in a nice way. He basically concludes the lecture by saying, “You can probably stick around a while longer (by this, I assume he means staying in the land of the living), but you have to make some changes. You’re not 25 anymore.”

He then tells me before I go to this new place, since I’m on antibiotics for an extended period of time, until April 23rd to be precise, I have to have a pick line put in, which is basically an industrial IV from hell. It is a whole surgical procedure where they take this catheter and insert it surgically under your clavicle and then thread it in up this huge vein in your neck.

I have had the process done before, and the assholes like to tell you it does not hurt at all. You do not even have to be put to sleep. All they need is local anaesthetic and you do not feel a thing. All of this is bullshit of course. It hurts like hell and you can feel the creepy sensation of this tube going up the main artery in your neck.

So they take me down to another floor to do this procedure and I voice my concerns to the doctor. I ask him if there is any way I can get some sort of sedation for the procedure. He says yes but since I had already eaten and stuff that day, we reschedule for tomorrow, but I cannot eat or drink anything after midnight.

So I go back to my room. I eat dinner. I read. I watch the therapy channel. I get doped up. I go to sleep.