Berdie's Blog

Berdie's Blog is new. I had to move it to WordPress because I will eventually make a book of it and blogspot is not equipped to do that. So off we go with Berdie's Blog to WordPress. It is about "life" and 'death" in one particular Nursing Home.... The blog isn't for the weak of mind or spirit. The Happy News Lady will remain on blogspot until further notice.
http://dogden.wordpress.com/

Dateline Presents William Billy Miller, Alive Again by Diane Ogden

Well finally! Justice has begun its amazing miracle course of action. Dateline will present William "Billy" Miller to the world 36 years later.....to him be the glory. God that is.... All the puzzle pieces came together at the perfect timing for those that love the Lord and even some others. A Cold blooded murder became a Cold Case for 36 years because of fear of those in high places. Those that carry weapons in the spirit and in the flesh. But fear was subsided because of one reporters courage. Lindell (See http://miraclesstillhappen36yearslater.blogspot.com/) There are not enough words to express to all concerned this families appreciation and love for the caring and honor for their Father, Billy Miller, gunned down in Cold Blood! Justice is sweet.......and will get sweeter. Be sure to view the Dateline Special Friday evening September 27th ... Billys daughter Tamara K Miller Hull is my daughter in law. By the way! Chad Hull is my precious compassionate son.

The Painted Lady by Diane Ogden

This isn't exactly what the ladies at the Nursing Home look like, but I have tried to find a way to lean in that direction with Berdie. Even though she cant wear red patent heels, or fur around her neck and red hats, all the while drinking wine, we are leaning that way. She has one of those new super soft blankets she loves. In fact we wrap it around her neck and at times her pillow. I bring her nutty long johns and cinnamon rolls and others bring her cookies for her "stach" in case lunch wasn't so hot or boredom sets in.. As for wine....well, decaf is the drink of the day... But we hit pay dirt with the nails! Yesterday I checked them and couldn't believe what I saw after I removed the polish from three weeks ago. Sick! Green dirt under every nail.... And she eats with those every day. Surprised she hasn't died from her own nail jam. Eeeewww. I soaked them in soap foam and that didn't work...then I went for the Purell Antibacterial gell. Ended up using a metal file to scrape the yellowish greenish brown crap from under each nail. I thought I would hurl for real. Of course I didn't let on. I suggested to Berdie she put the Purell under her nails before each meal. I mean come on folks....all they do is get her up and take her poddie, and put her back until meal time. Wipe her face and hands with a washcloth, give her a shower once a week and check her vitals. WhooHoo....Big days at the old Home. I try to see the positives... but I mostly don't because its a mere dull existence on a road to death with no U turns. At least her nails are clean and pretty in case today is the day but I suspect the earth suffering isn't over yet.

I tucked her in her wheelchair with her cushy blankie and we took a walk to the fish tank which in her new world is around the corner in the adjacent wing. We stop and watch the finches who Berdie says have lice that need attention..then to the fish tank while Andy passes us in his Cadillac motorized wheel car... There is one blue striped fish and several yellow ones. We watch them for a long time while I tell Berdie that now you can buy entire plasma walls of aquariums for your kitchen or bath or bedroom walls. A far "cry" from her one room world on Olbrich Wing. Then we stopped into the little chapel that seems so cold, but we rolled in had enough room to turn the chair around to go back out. Sort of like a back and back out bathroom.. Regardless....there was a bit of Holy Water left in the copper bowl...along with a long stray blessed hair, (must have been) of course I didn't tell. I reached into the Holy Water with two fingers then placed the water on Berdies forehead and blessed her in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and thanked God for his care of her in this time. She said Thank You. Berdie doesn't say Thank You very often but lately she tells me this allot. Then off we went with pretty nails back to her Penthouse Suite where she strives to stay awake so I wont leave. She made it to 9:15 p.m last night. I placed my hand on her and prayed the Lords Prayer. Her favorite. And added a prayer for sweet sleep and peace that passeth understanding.

Goodnite Berdie....

www.orgsites.com/.../Little_old_ladies.jpg

Berdies Ass Sore...by Diane Ogden

OK, sorry for the abrupt title, but I have spent insane hours with Berdie at the best N.H. in the city. She has a sore on her ars......yes I know I spelled it wrong...I did that on purpose Hello! It was bleeding....she told me one aide picked the scab off...(OK so I will give the aide the benefit of the doubt and say she wiped Berdie too hard, (Doubt it)) Listen here, Berdie is sharp in the brain area... She also told me some aides DO NOT WIPE HER after she podies. What chumps. Lazy human beings.
So today we worked the puzzle big time and it was finished at 9:00 p.m. this night. February 21, 2008...just in case this is her last day.. But then I doubt it. Yes she is in CHF.....heart failure...and yes she is coughing thick phlegm, and swollen legs, and and and so on....but she is hanging in there... pulling herself out of bed, and up from the recliner to the walker best she can.....She is tougher than any one of those "simple" aides. Who may be nothing more than a pimple on America's ass anyway! (not all of them )She, Berdie, has had an amazing life. Oh back to point. I was telling her I thought the dinner helper was a nice lady.... Berdie says, "You mean the Jap?" I placed my finger to my mouth in a gesture meaning shhhh!!" And responded with yes I mean her... Then once again we discussed aides and Berdie says, "Are there any of those N WORDS out there?" (I cant even type that word.) And do realize Berdie is 96 and that is from her era...do not judge her . She doesn't cuss, she does gossip, she is respectful and mannerly, but seems to be prejudice... Isn't that interesting? I try to get her to plan B on that one. Tough call. O well...it is what it is. I love her and I truly believe she loves the Jap and people she refers to N's... I have to laugh... sorry if you cant see it or accept the time value of this case scenario... Good woman, old ways is all. Heck when I was a kid in the South of Texas, my Dad was hired to paint a school, one half was black and the other was white, and they used different water fountains. S H U T U P! Now that is insane huh? And Auntie Berdie would let the N-CNA or the JAP -CNA, (actually she was Viet Namese God forbid) put butt cream on her butt and tuck her in! Write that down ...And ssshhhh... not cool these days...to even make the jokes about. I do it anyway. Hey, Berdie sits all day and if she lays she cant breath....she is scared and basically alone and tells me she is ready. I wonder. We talk about it and then she doesn't seem to remember what we discussed at all.... What is that about? So again, it is what it is and I have compensated by saying The Lords Prayer every night before I leave. I am probably the person she gossiped most about in her life...ha....what a send off huh? I go help her every day or night...rarely miss.... Hell of a lesson eh? That's how life teaches us ..............

"Joby" by Diane Ogden

It all started out as one of those adventure junket trips to an island far away for a weekend of something different and exciting. Sort of like the people that check in to the "game" Murder Hotel. Where you have to guess who the murderer is yet it seems so real... everyone dresses in character. This was very similar but on an island off South Viet Nam. We flew in and were escorted to our quarters that were less than I imagined. Lockers with our individual fatigues (interesting name for army outfits huh?) and helmets all put together with explicit detail. In fact one of the guests pulled out an extra helmet and for some reason he looked inside of it where he noticed something odd. He scratched off some crud covering a small area and as he did a name began appearing.....John Jungbluth Holt. What the hell? What? This is too weird! That was my Great Grandfather's name. He passed in World War II. This is supposed to be a fun and exciting little weekend trip including a war game. But come on, this sort of research done by people who merely set it up and gain a small amount of money isn't adding up. Our friend put the ghost helmet on and buckled it. Nothing was making sense and there was no turning back so he pressed on with us. We were given a vehicle several years old to do with what we purposed. Truly there weren't too many viable roads for its use. Danny, a part of our little junket trip, and our friend decided to take on the driving position. Me, I wanted to hit the depth of this adventure and go for the hills.The three of us did just that, with total niativity in head and hand.
Maybe we forgot to read the fine print because we therefore entered the "fighting zone." Real and frightening guns and terror. Ditches and dirty holes to protect ourselves in...and we did for an entire day and a half. Believe me we "knew" we had gotten into something way over our heads. Maybe the owners of this junket had stolen our identities and now were having us killed in this mock set up of a war zone. And we walked right into it. Oh God no one will ever find us.
The shooting had stopped long enough for us to feel safe to move on. To where? Survival had stepped in now and we just moved forward. Only to pass through a long terrifying cave and come out the other side to the old vehicle setting there in the middle of a field. Danny ran like a scared rabbit all the way to the car. I am screaming for him to stop as it might be wired to blow. He was out of control, ears and brain shut down...as was our other friends. Both of youth, and still long legged boys turned into men, not quite. Danny caught himself just as he reached for the handle...he backed up and grabbed a rock, threw it at the car several times. Nothing happened. He looked back at us as if to say, this is it no matter what. He reached for the door handle, opened it and got in. We ran quickly to our new found metal box. We drove across potholes and poor dirt paths when we came to what appeared to be a refugee camp. Tall fences, gates, one large building, and several tents. No guards. We drove into this complex as if we owned it for a change. Not to say there was no fear riding with us because there was. We reluctantly got out and left our metal refuge to enter one more possible refuge or was it? Inside this building were many rooms of interest. A city inside a city. Very few people wandered about. Some seemed quite normal as if walking from home to school, or home to work... one women was babbling incoherently as she walked with two children. If she was part of "the game" she was a bad actor. She was saying "ga ga goo goo" and then say a couple rational words. I looked over at another woman who seemed quite normal to get some sort of reassurance, but when she caught my glance she exit-ed to what seemed no where. Were they secret passages, holes in the floor or what? We actually decided to leave because it was a to no where building. We ended up in a field, Danny sitting quietly in the car. I had discovered his ability to play this game we paid for wasn't his best quality in life. And I understood because "The Game" seemed out of touch with reality. But then wasn't it supposed to be? I suppose, but the danger we sensed did not appear to be in our imagination, rather real and intense. Suddenly I see a small figure of a human and I follow it. It is a child. A small boy child. He is dirty and sad and lost and dear God what sort of game is this? I pick him up into my arms and cradle him gently so as not to frighten him. Where is he from. Who would leave him out here alone? This is no game! I find I have wandered too far off from the guys... I carry "Joby," the name I called him, a long distance when I come to a ridge. The ridge is made of cardboard boxes and I have to climb it to get back to the car which I see in the distance. I must have gone the opposite direction in my adrenalin rush after finding Joby, but at least it brought me full circle and almost back to the metal refuge. I sat Joby down and told him to stay I would be right back. I needed some help to get both of us through the maze of boxes. I ran to the car while continually looking back to make sure Joby was there. I screamed for Danny....I told him about Joby as quickly as I could. I said, "I want to take him home Danny." Danny sank in the seat as he turned his baseball cap to the side which told me he was still that long legged boy and not a man. I turned from him in my usual independent manner and sought after Joby on my own. When I reached the ridge Joby was gone. Once again a "man" had influenced me and I lost. I decided right then and there no man would ever again hurt my children or I. I was going to find little Joby and give him a home and love God willing I get out of this so called game and God willing Joby is real. There he is! He walking all alone in the field just beyond the ridge. I cried out for him, "Joby, wait, wait baby, Mama's coming."
Somehow I just knew he had no family. One of those Motherly instincts that kick in somewhere on an island off South Viet Nam. God if you get us out of this so called game I will never do this again...deal?" I scooped that little guy up and ran back to the ridge through weeds and bugs and dirt. We looked a mess and bloody at that. I climbed that cardboard barrier with all the force of a Mother saving her child from the rapids. Each step I took we fell back two or three. But again the adrenalin heaped onto me and from me gave nothing a chance for failure.
Then the fight was over. There was the metal refuge with the two scared little men sitting in it waiting for Ms. Warrior to appear. Surely they had no idea what had just transpired....no one did or so I thought. I placed Joby in the back seat center and then I climbed in myself. I told Danny to find us a way out of here now! He started to drive when a voice came over our radio and filled the car. It said, "Game is over, time up, you won the prize. Follow the road you are on 1.3 miles and then take the brown boulder cave to the exit ramps. Be careful as you cross the suspended bridge as it sways with the winds. Leave the car at the exit ramp. See you on the other side."
Now was that another frightening experience to experience? Or was it real? We had no choice, we followed the instructions. The suspension bridge was no picnic but we made it. I carried Joby all the way clutching him securely. He seemed like another part of me, attached at the heart he was. God forbid what was coming next? They would take him away wouldn't they? He was part of the game. Damn......
We arrived at the gates to a crowd of cheering people. What was this? Talk about Naive...I took the first prize for it that day. We found out "The Game" was all about Joby, a three year old boy who needed a home in America. The Game was about who would fight for this little man....and I won. I was crying at first out of fear and pain knowing deep down I couldn't take Joby home, he was part of "The Game." Then I was crying because I found out I could take him home. He was The First Prize and what a prize he is to this day. By the way, the name on the helmet? We were all researched by an adoption team from Europe so this game would seem more than real and even confusing. To see how we would operate under great pressure and even under what we presumed as dangerous conditions. I won....Determination and tennacity have always gotten me through this life, and now it gave me a new life. Joby.

photo compliment of carf at www.flickr.com

Captive Range

Have you ever noticed the various and many business's that have camera's installed. Banks where we keep our green paper that may end up worth little or nothing...yet no camera's at the Nursing Homes where our precious ones find themselves in their last days. Camera's in empty parking lots in case anyone is robbed... yet no camera's to view the living being robbed of their dignity and their will to live on. Camera's in office buildings to insure employee safety...yet none in nurse homes to ensure (discarded) humans safety. Am I being too harsh? Not a chance! I watch it every day when I visit Berdie. Some of the aides are very kind and a camera would show that kindness. Some are short tempered, impatient, loud, pointing of fingers at needy patients, self orientated and so on. Would it not be fun to have them all exchange places for even an hour. All the aides into wheel chairs! NOW! No you may not have more juice! Sorry your confused, sit there! Stay on that hard cold toilet until I get back! No I cant help you, I said No, I have to be somewhere else! And so on..in short loud curt voices....
If you take them, the aides and nurses that is, cookies and treats and kiss their naughty ars's maybe your auntie will get better care. But a camera would solve it all! And this is one of the Top Nurse Homes in our State. Its like I felt God told me once a long time ago, while I was walking on side walk avoiding stepping on ants. He said, "That is all you mean to the devil (and some people), in fact not even that much. He will step on you just to watch you suffer and make you think he is bigger than he is...so stay on the 'right way" best you can and pray at all times for you and yours protection. You are the key to your own door"