Tired of the Whiney Dad

Is anyone else tired of watching the whiney dad whose kid went to Haiti? I’m talking about  Len Gengel, father of Lynn University student Britney Gengel.

Yes, your daughter did a good thing going to Haiti to help the indigent. Yes, you really love her, are worried, etc.

But getting on national TV and pleading with President Obama to “do something ” because these are American citizens is too much. Aren’t all people created equal?  Why should your little American girl receive preferential treatment?

It’s a very tough situation down there. All of the workers are there to help ALL of the people who are trapped — not just your “American citizen” daughter.

What are you  personally doing to help? Are you sending money to the Red Cross? Are you willing to go down and volunteer to help? Or are you just crying on TV and trying to turn this into a political situation by appealing to the president to move your precious kids up to the top of the Priority Rescue List — which I don’t think there is one or needs to be.

Your daughter obviously was a caring person who wanted to help people. I wonder if she would be embarrassed to know that Daddy was on TV crying to the President as if her life was somehow so much more important than all of those other people in and near the rubble.

If you can’t do any better than this, do us a favor and stay off camera. President Obama, the Red Cross, the volunteer doctors, and the U.S. Military are working to help with this massive humanitarian effort. They are under a lot of stress and racing against the clock.

They need support. They don’t need a whiney old white guy going on TV crying that the President is not doing enough for his kid who chose to go down there and unfortunately, has been caught in one of the worst natural disasters we’ve seen.

Don’t try to turn this into a political issue with your whiney cries to Obrama.

Gengel Dad, you’re embarrassing us Americans with your self-righteousness.

Peace to all.

Blogging In My Mind

Posted On January 13, 2010

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I have posted anything in awhile. I often think of topics and opinions I could post, but I haven’t.

According to the stats, people are still visiting my idle site looking for mailboxes and stumbling on the info on Aldi’s or boobs in the office.

I still have this blog, but I lost my mother.

She’s still in my thoughts….just like this blog.

Can Someone Eggs-plain This?

Yesterday I heard on the news that one of the top 10 most dangerous foods is eggs.

Next I hear that some people have doubts about the H1N1 swine flu vaccine as it is grown in eggs, which some people are allergic to,  and hasn’t been fully tested.

Commercials with Sesame Street’s Elmo are going to be promoting swine flu prevention to families.

Maybe Elmo ought to remind us not to lick the spoon when Mom’s mixing up cake or cookie batter, either.

The Little Black Hat

Posted On October 1, 2009

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“You don’t really go see your mom every day, do you? “

Yes, just about.

“Well you don’t really have to go.”

No, it’s a choice.

Mom is a lot like a two year old now. She has goods days and bad days. Some days she is very tired and cries for no reason.

On other days, her voice is strong and she has quite a bit to say. I don’t know which days those will be, so if I don’t go, I might miss one.

And like a two year old, she’s sometimes paying more attention to her surroundings that you might think.

She also needs to be fed. Would you want your two year old going to bed hungry? Well I don’t want to trust that the staff is going to take the time to adequately feed my mom like I do.

Sometimes Mom tells me, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Last night Mom was crying after dinner. It was the second night in a row. I’m told stroke victims sometimes can’t control their emotions and cry for no apparent reason.

Later I was ready to leave when the new Good Nurse came in to check if some ointment had been left in mom’s room. This is the first time I’ve seen a night shift nurse going into residents’ rooms and checking up on things. I decided to stay to check up on the aide who was going to put Mom to bed to make sure the ointment was used. Yes, I was tired, but it if was important enough for the Good Nurse to check on it, I could wait another half hour or whatever was needed to make sure it was used.

The aide came into the room a few minutes later. She didn’t have on a name tag but she had a nice smile and pleasant demeanor.

All of a sudden Mom’s face brightens up…..and with great enthusiasm she tells the aide, “I love your hat!”

The young black woman was not wearing a hat.  But she did have a fashionable haircut that was kind of spiked, creating an outline reminescent of a stylish little black hat from the ’30s or ’40s…the kind with a  a little plum of feathers sticking up.

I was glad I waited.

Only The Good Die Young

One way to escape the wrinkles and frailities of old age is to die young. Then you will always be remembered as youthful…or at least at the top of your game.

Another pop icon has passed. Michael Jackson.

Yea, he was weird in so many ways as he became an adult. The one white glove. Grabbing his crotch on stage. The children’s compound where alegations of child abuse arose. The weird marriages and the strange garb he dressed his kids in. The nose jobs. The changing skin color. The crazy amount of debt after being a super star all of his life.

But the good Michael was so very talented. Those of us who loved his music from his childhood to adulthood mourn the loss of that person. The Super Talent. The guy we now know had a troubled childhood.

It’s sad to watch a person’s life self-destruct. Is that what happened? Were drugs involved as mentioned as a possibility on the news? Think Elvis Presley. The father of one of his wives.

People can be very complicated.

Your memory will live on in your music. Your songs will continue to thrill us.

May you finally rest in peace.

Where Were You When Your Mother Died?

I met your mom a few short weeks ago. She said she had just moved from a hoity-toity place that she really liked but she needed even more care.
 
Your mom asked me how many children I had. When I told her I was single and did not have any children, she said,”I’m sorry.” I  asked why she said that, and she replied, “Because I think you’ve missed a lot.”

I saw the photo collage on her door with your pictures and your kids’ pictures. Lots of faces on there.

Where were you when your mom was wheeled into the nursing home dining room wearing her purse  awkwardly around her neck?  (Old habits die hard.)

Where were you the last night I saw her when she cried out in pain as the nurse very gently rolled her to the dinner table? Where were you a few minutes later as she begged me to get  her a glass of water?

I  really wanted to  help her.  I could see how much pain she was in. I always said hi to her because she was one of the ladies who knew where she was and still had her mind. But I couldn’t get her  any water because  I didn’t know her medical condition.

Your mother was bleeding onto her terrycloth bib. It was so very sad to hear her helpless pleas fall on deaf ears. The  aides weres busy with other residents.  The nurse was off to another task.  I tried to get someone to respond. I think it was a weekend evening — you never know what to expect on on those shifts.

A couple of days ago I noticed your Mom’s nameplate was taken down. I checked the resident list and her name was gone. Your picture hung on the door for a few more days. I see the door is still closed today…I guess you haven’t had a chance to empty the room yet. Probably busy making  funeral plans.

Your mother must have loved you very much. I’m sure she was proud of you.  I saw your name in her obituary. Apparently she was pretty sick when you moved her there last month.

Where were you when your mother died?

HIPPA Laws Be Damned

There’s a new hospital opening in town, and this weekend they are showing it off to the public with a big open house. So many RNs running around the place, I was wondering who’s taking care of the patients at the old place, which hasn’t closed yet.

In the fancy, shmansy emergency room area, there’s a big screen on the wall — across from the nurse’s station — listing each emergency room number, patient’s initials, patient’s age, medical reason the patient is visiting today. Why don’t they just put the person’s weight up there too?

And let’s get an audio version too…let’s not overlooked the rights of the hearing impaired to snoop around while hanging out in the emergency room.

Geeezzzz…who thought of this? Have they ever heard of HIPPA laws?

Just about every time someone from our family has been in this hospital’s emergency room, we’ve run into someone else we knew. Now we can just walk down the hall and check out the person’s age and condition. How convenient!

If someone looks vaguely familiar, the age and initials may be just  the information needed to jog your memory.

Heck why don’t they just put a big lighted billboard out front — like the casinos have — and announce the surgeries being performed today, arrival of new babies, shooting victim’s names, etc. Post the newborns’ photos! Dr. Jones – now appearing in the operating room!

Ok, so there’s a private outtake (or whatever they call it) room. That’s nice. But this big screen on the wall is taking technology a bit too far. I would think a small screen behind the nurse’s station would make more sense. BTW..what about those nurses over 50…they probably won’t be able to see the screen from across the room anyway.

The scary thing is…the RN on the tour didn’t think there was anything wrong with having a big screen listing patient’s info.

Have you every been to a bar or restaurant and stared across the room at a TV screen –even though you couldn’t hear the show? Our eyes have been conditioned to look at TV screens — that’s why my dentist was playing some fake talk show TV in his waiting room the other day with an interview promoting teeth whitening or something. Cha ching! Cha ching!

In case you are wondering, this is the new St. Clare Hospital in Fenton, Mo. Maybe some of their officials will visit my blog. I can always use new readers.

Potty Talk at the Dinner Table

“I had a good BM this morning. Even they said it was good.”

That’s good news, Mom.

“Every time I do something, they write it down. I don’t know what they’re studying.”

Just another suppertime conversation at the nursing home.

No Sense of Urgency at the Nursing Home or Dogs Are More Fun Than Old People

When I get old, I hope someone leaves me at the kennel instead of a nursing home. I think I’ll get better care.

Nearly every day I turn on the news and someone had rescued a bunch of neglected dogs and lots of people come forward to feed them and nurse them back to good health. If there’s a flood, a power outage, a hurricane, an economic crisis — big pleas go out for help to take care of the misplaced pets.

Friday night,  I go to mom’s nursing home and they are serving peanut butter. Hey –don’t you guys know the big recall of peanut butter included shipments to nursing homes? What reassurance do we have that the kitchen has checked out the source? My mom’s “meal preference” says “no chicken.” Yet she was given a chicken sandwich on Thursday night.

At the kennel, dogs are walked and played with (for an extra fee), fed, oooed and aawed over.

I bet the pet food with peanut butter has been pitched at the kennel.

At the nursing home, patients are talked at:

“How’s your dinner?”

“What?”

“Good, I’m glad  you liked it.”

Mom can’t pull chicken off the bone when you serve the drummies. It’s not that she doesn’t like chicken. But  you’re not listening anyway — as you serve her chicken soup, chicken sandwiches, etc.

“Your mom keeps crying. We need to do something about her meds.”

Yea…like get ‘em down her throat. Thursday nite, they plopped out on the floor. Friday — I wheeled her down to your station and showed you she had a full mouth of meds sitting on her tongue. I got ‘em down her throat. ICE CREAM works better than apple sauce. It also takes more than one spoonful. You’re probably not supposed to be crushing all of those meds in the first place. Does anybody read the warnings?

Last night after dinner Mrs. G. is sitting in her room and she tells me she has a new problem.  She just got out of the hospital last week. She  hasn’t had her oxygen all day. Someone’s supposed to come. soon.  I guess her daughter was celebrating Valentine’s Day. She came in the afternoon and the flower arrangement was lovely. She usually comes after dinner. I see the aide and ask about the oxygen. “The nurse is going to take care of that.”

Mrs. G said her eyes are blurry. Eyes need oxygen. It’s even more important as you age. I go home wondering about the connection. I look it up this morning on the Internet. What kind of nurses are these? Who’s training them? Who cares about the elderly?

Give me the life of a dog. It’s gotta be better than this.

Neighborhood Ice Cream Trucks in February?

It’s an overcast midwestern winter day, the temperature is in the 40s, and I can hear some funky music outside. What? Is that the ice cream truck?

I look outside and sure enough an ice cream van is slowing driving up the street playing that little melody that is supposed to draw the attention of all of the little kiddies within earshot.

The economy must be pretty bad if the ice cream man is out looking for clients in winter. Heck, just 3 days ago, the temperature was in the 20s – probably colder than his frozen treats – and my front yard was still covered in snow.

Weird.

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