sometimes I realize even the mildest stories are kind of terrible
I know I keep on not posting for days and days, but I've been playing Echo Bazaar and reading Sherlock fic until my brains drip out my ears like foaming slime. It's very soothing.
Anyway, work's been workish; we had two deaths and are waiting glumly for the third, and my New Lady is about to experience Better Living Through Chemicals. I mean, there's not drugging someone just to drug them and then there is hours and hours of our precious lives being spent to convince her that 1) your husband is not in the building next door 2) because he's dead, honey, look at the letter from your children, 3) your apartment is right there, you moved out of the other one because they were ... er ... remodeling it (and you try to leave all the time to a place that only exists in your head) 4) a week ago, honey, it's not Sunday 4a) you're having problems with your memory, that's why you're not sure what day it is, my friend, I am here to worry about that for you, and they did tell you, but your brain can't make new memories very easily any -- 5) okay let's look at the letter the kids wrote for you because 6) you don't have a phone and your daughter can't take personal calls at work, dear.
Today she prowled the halls clutching two pictures of her family and a coffee table book, attempting to find a way out of the Hotel California. It didn't work.
I'm usually pretty zen about the wandering thing but not when there's as much anxiety as she's displaying with it. (Aside: people keep writing 'wondering' for 'wandering' in the staff log and it delights me.) It's really frustrating because there is nothing to do for it but just repeat yourself and offer her things to do, but since her memory is that of a feeble mayfly and she's at the awful cusp of awareness where she knows something is wrong, but has not tipped gently over into not caring any more... yeah. It's not my favorite stage. It's like, JUST GIVE HER A DAMN PILL. JUST A LITTLE ONE. ENOUGH TO TAKE THE EDGE OFF THIS CRUSHING ANXIETY THAT SHE DOESN'T NEED TO HAVE IN HER LIFE. THIS IS WHY GOD IN THEIR INFINITE MERCY ALLOWED US TO DISCOVER XANAX, GUYS.
Big Bang is trundling bravely on, for some quality of trundling; nothing like playing Please Just Stop Freaking Out all week (other ladies have staged Drag Meg Around By Arm all week, which is fine, but *rubs face* it kind of hurts a lot because they squeeze tight and arthritic Meg etc etc etc - I think I've mentioned one of them thinks I'm her mother, but another one is vague on if I'm her mother or a nun. I ... really have nothing at all some days) to make you lie on the couch with a shitton of awful fic and a beer all night.
TL;DR: I want a vacation and my actual vacation is going to be Kumori-con and herding people. I think I'm doing something wrong. Still, having someone to look after who may or may not actually respond to logic sounds great, I can't lie.
Anyway, work's been workish; we had two deaths and are waiting glumly for the third, and my New Lady is about to experience Better Living Through Chemicals. I mean, there's not drugging someone just to drug them and then there is hours and hours of our precious lives being spent to convince her that 1) your husband is not in the building next door 2) because he's dead, honey, look at the letter from your children, 3) your apartment is right there, you moved out of the other one because they were ... er ... remodeling it (and you try to leave all the time to a place that only exists in your head) 4) a week ago, honey, it's not Sunday 4a) you're having problems with your memory, that's why you're not sure what day it is, my friend, I am here to worry about that for you, and they did tell you, but your brain can't make new memories very easily any -- 5) okay let's look at the letter the kids wrote for you because 6) you don't have a phone and your daughter can't take personal calls at work, dear.
Today she prowled the halls clutching two pictures of her family and a coffee table book, attempting to find a way out of the Hotel California. It didn't work.
I'm usually pretty zen about the wandering thing but not when there's as much anxiety as she's displaying with it. (Aside: people keep writing 'wondering' for 'wandering' in the staff log and it delights me.) It's really frustrating because there is nothing to do for it but just repeat yourself and offer her things to do, but since her memory is that of a feeble mayfly and she's at the awful cusp of awareness where she knows something is wrong, but has not tipped gently over into not caring any more... yeah. It's not my favorite stage. It's like, JUST GIVE HER A DAMN PILL. JUST A LITTLE ONE. ENOUGH TO TAKE THE EDGE OFF THIS CRUSHING ANXIETY THAT SHE DOESN'T NEED TO HAVE IN HER LIFE. THIS IS WHY GOD IN THEIR INFINITE MERCY ALLOWED US TO DISCOVER XANAX, GUYS.
Big Bang is trundling bravely on, for some quality of trundling; nothing like playing Please Just Stop Freaking Out all week (other ladies have staged Drag Meg Around By Arm all week, which is fine, but *rubs face* it kind of hurts a lot because they squeeze tight and arthritic Meg etc etc etc - I think I've mentioned one of them thinks I'm her mother, but another one is vague on if I'm her mother or a nun. I ... really have nothing at all some days) to make you lie on the couch with a shitton of awful fic and a beer all night.
TL;DR: I want a vacation and my actual vacation is going to be Kumori-con and herding people. I think I'm doing something wrong. Still, having someone to look after who may or may not actually respond to logic sounds great, I can't lie.