How does one write about a their sister having a foot and partial leg amputated?

How does one write about a their sister having a foot and partial leg amputated? I feel utterly lost writing this. My sister Heidi is going under the blade tomorrow have a foot and part of leg taken from her due to some infection. I just found this out tonight and my mind is spinning so frantically toward her when she gave me this info tonight. >sorry if I get redundent. Bare with it, please.) Notified work that I would NOT be there tomorrow, sent an email to my plant manager and notified my crew/work family. I cannot imagine the losing a foot or leg. I sincerely cannot take in such horrific news as given by Doctors thay say you desparetly need such or worse could occur in your life. She was told after sugery she would gain prothetics and therapy and learn to live again in a normal life. FUCK! I love my sister, and am so sorry she has to go thru this. I so remeember all of us as kids on Scranton Rd in Cleveland running around during all seasons the 1970's tossed at us. Didn't matter how cold or hot it got, Heidi always ran with us either with hide and seek or football. Such precious memories fill my heart and am so grateful for that. I ask all of you to wish her the best as she is about to experience a change in life most of us would never have to deal with. Thank you, Mark This song was always special to Heidi and I. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbS56p4Xt4I&list=RDP19BpRijJD4&index=2

Thoughts on aging

 

                                                 Thoughts on aging.

             As we all get older we discover things changing not just in Society but within our bodies as well.

             It is a sunny and windy day in Eastlake, Ohio, USA. The sounds of Lake Erie's crashing water  against the shoreline can be heard from our home about a quarter mile from it, making me smile, get strength from nature with its  power and impact.  Leaving my home this morning, smelling the chilly Autumn  air as dying leaves begin to fall, harkening  in its Season for all to embrace and enjoy. 

            Another season coming for us to enjoy and cherish with it's visual beauty and smell.

            As we age, I personally   believe we take more interest in such  Seasonal Changes as we will have fewer left to see, react  and take part in.

      

            The older I get, realizing my lifespan is dwindling down to a few years if lucky,  perhaps less as things do happen. It is my wish to try to express my love for life both with my words via sudden thought,  to share and photography and maybe inspire others to do and share the same in their lives.

            The inspiration behind this post came from my wife, who last Friday got a spinal injection to eliminate pain. She's a 40 year NURSE that clearly her decades of service caught up with her.  Well, her sitting in the bedroom this afternoon asked me to do some laundry for her. The laundry room is a two downward steps from the kitchen. No sweat for me, not so much for her.  I told her I would and she handed me a bundle of Nurse wear, underwear and such. 

          Not sure why, having done this so many times before for her, a thought hit me.

          There is a certain fragility in life as we age with one another. There are areas that we can do for one another for whatever reason: Be it love, admiration or mere respect, there is so much we can do to aide others in your life. 

              

         We can all be vibrantly  active and have  it swept from us in a slender  moment of time for a host of reasons. We could stumble over an idle dog-toy and roll an ankle, trip over a curb and falling into a Icecube cooler/hitting your head or a work accident. Life is FRAGILE.  RESPECT THAT, NOT ONLY WITH YOURSELF BUT OTHERS AS WELL.

          Life is simple  when it comes to consideration for others. Something as simple as looking around you when you enter a  Speedway, convenience store, seeing a somewhat wobbly person walking and just taking a moment to hold a door open for them could aide them in ways amazing.  What would a few seconds hurt you in doing so for someone?

           Well, I'm about to place my wifes laundry into to the dryer, completing a cycle of this day.

          Aging is tough.

          Funny how I may be 61 years old, I really don't feel that old. Not sure why this is. 

         It is my wish each and everyone of you have a great and safe week ahead!

               

          Please consider my thoughts.

            -Mark

          

     

            

          

          

           

          

            

       

Going from Introvert to Extrovert Part Two. (a long time for this second part....sorry)

                

              GOING FROM INTROVERT TO A LOUD AND PROUD MAN IN 7 DAYS//// 

                    I've added some previous post to this before digging into an area I believe important about my history. Please grant me some area on this as the original incomplete post was from around 9 years ago.

                Sorry...

                Here we go////

                                  Thirty Six years ago this Summer: I became an Extrovert.

                                                                          by
                                                             Mark William DArus.

                    I loved to ten speed bike around with my friends. We did this nearly all year round, biking everywhere to see whatever there was to capture in our minds.

                    I was a recent 16 year old when I was accepted for a Methodist Camping trip that involved biking. A close friend of mine also tried for it but was somehow denied and caps were filled.  When I, accepted and him, denied, I told my folks I wanted to back out.

                   They said no, so off I went into what I perceived as 'ScareyLand'.

                   Scareyland should always  be looked at as a real place in anothers mind when dealing with exceptionally shy teenage boys and girls somehow seeking more or at least something different based on their unique abilities. Scareyland.

                    Often bullied in my youngest walkings to school, this, learning via my father how to stand for myself and fight back against them, I so remember an xmas  years long before this, that he bought he and I matching boxing gloves to teach me how to defend myself. In modern times, parents would be seeking lawyers. Fuck it, though, I think my fathers way was better. Let them hash it out.

                   Of those days boxing with dad in a cold and clamy basement, and on the other side I made pretty/fragrant candles in the very same area, he patiently softly punched my stomach, head and groin. Each time he connected, he told me how to defend against such jabs. We would go over it, time and again til I got it right.  Over and over he I and i would do this.

                    I, was like maybe nine then, when he taught me how to stand against bullies.  My Father was a Marine. When I asked him about his basic training, he'd go blank and tell me nothing.

                     In his footlocker I found, during a boring lonely summer day of my youth,  his Basic Training Marine Corps manuals. I was about 10 then. Frankly, I can see why he didn't show me this while we were boxing. I have little doubt I would have become a total killing freak after reading that piece of work. So, thanks FAther, and also to my Mother, for influence during that boxing time frame, teaching me, impressing on me other avenues avenues of defending oneself against an aggressor. My Mother would say: Mark: Physical confrontation only occurs when both sides have nothing further intelligent to say.

                         So, I learned how to stand to bullies and not give up my lunch money, the lunch my mother made for me with loving hands.

                        A lot can be said about physical desensitization

              Yes, during my elementary years, there were many. I'd end such confrontations after my dads lessons with perhaps a black eye, bloody nose and or fat lip, but I stood above their asses, saying to them : "You want mine! Really? Give me yours!"  and I'd look at thier brutes friends and say, "c'mon, you really want this?"

                         So I learned how to defend myself. That was most cool in the 1970's but even better nowadays. Wouldn't you agree that the teaching of 8 and older females children should not learn the value of pepper spray?

                         Think about it, really.... Take time and reread if needed.

                         ScareyLand goes yet sideways in most avenues of experience. When self and strangers are faced with one another for the first time.  This is a place of gathering like the worst of blind dates. A human mental collision of everything we hold sacred within ourselves

                        Imagine being thrust into a world of others as an introvert. 

     My parents took me to the place this Methodist Bike Camp would start.

           I felt so scared and frightened as they hug and kissed me goodbye, smiling and wishing me luck in my adventure for the next 7 days.

             Seven days away from everything I knew, enjoyed.

              What the fuck did I know about camping??? For fucks sake we never did that as a family.

              Sure. My sister Heidi and I would sometimes make a tent in the diningroom under a table near the air conditioner during the summer. 

                      I thought I was about to die as I met those I'd spend 7 days with. All of us were total strangers to each other.  

                      I met teens from Coshockton, Sandusky, Seville, Loudonville, Girard and about 2 other areas in Ohio.

                        When meeting, most of us looked like deer's in the headlights about to get run over.

                         The intro's were so awkward and sketchy as all us stumble with each telling a bit about themselves and where they are from/

                       Tossed into a world of strangers and....

                  

    AUTHORS NOTE: HAVING THE WEEKEND OFF, I WILL CONTINUE THIS..

           THANKS FOR READING MY WORDS!

          -MARK WILLIAM DARUS

                 

NURSES: PART 4. The sharing of an Administrator of a large Assisted living facility and her struggles.

           

             NURSES: PART 4. The sharing of an Administrator of a large Assisted living facility and her struggles.  

            This is the sharing of  a 30 year Registered Nurse.

             I'll respect her wish and not say her name or location. 

                 Here's what she shared with me/

                 Thank you. Mark for reading what I sent to you and wishing to put my shit out on your blog! 

                    I'm a Nursing Admin in a large Assisted Living Facility on the West of (Location deleted to protect the provider and their wish for anonymity.) 

                   It is my duty/job to cover all scheduling bases  24/7  a week, deal with call-offs, no-call no-shows and medical leaves of absence that HR NEVER FUCKING TELLS ME ABOUT! 

                 It is my job to make sure each of our Residents/Patients are covered and well taken care of ALL OF THE TIME. 

                 FOR FUCKS SAKE! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED 3 YEARS AGO WITH COVID?!?!

                 We hire Nursing Aides that maybe show up two our of every five days of work/

                 LPN's that only have to work 3 twelve hour shifts a week  calling off for a stubbed toe or. forgive me for saying: 'Seriously Painful Period" when I know they are in their late 50's of ago! 

                I get reports from  wonderful LPN's that tell me some of the Aides are getting "Frisky" with the residents, perhaps touching their bodies in inappropriate ways.

                 Sure,  I log this information, forward it to HR for appropriate action as I know little will change.

                   WE are so desperate  for a work force, and I so struggle with this all day long, We no longer do BACKGROUND CHECKS for future employees.  We have fired a few Aides for attempting to have sex with residents/patients after their families reported this to us. THESE THINGS SHOULD NOT HAVE EVER POSSILBY HAPPENED IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!! 

              Mark ,  I wonder if I would be happier  and    better at (location hidden) in an Emergency Room  merely removing Motts Apple Sauce Jars, dead hamsters and Lake Erie fish from male rectums.,  I know that sounds disgusting, vile and very wrong, yet still this should tell you what I think.

             Thank you for allowing me to share my thoughts. 

              -(name withheld)  Struggling and Hoping. 

       I wish to humbly thank you for your written thoughts and all else  on my blog. Hugs and BY ALL FUCKING MEANS: KEEP THE FAITH AND SPIRIT IN YOUR HEART ALIVE IN ALL  YOU DO!

            

Nurses: part 3. When they lay they're tired heads to bed, do they pray or just cash checks?

              

                                 

                In this question  I throw out to OUR WORLD as I had asked a few Nurses I know this question doing a face to face with them a few days ago/ 

              I was surprised by some of the responses I received,  yet considering their workplaces and ratings on many a Social Media site, took me a step back in thought. 

         Mary (an LPN in assisted Living Facility with 25 years experience)  expressed this to me: "Mark, I work three to four twelves (12 hour shifts)  a day as an LPN.  My current employer is, for some reason okay with aides being late or calling off that is infuriating to me!  We , as  LPN's have to pick up their slack which my employer allows. WHAT THE FUCK!?!  

         Company thinking seems to be: 'Well, you're a nurse!  You can handle dishing out meds, change bedding and lift the fallen from the floor!  Sorry a few called off, but you BEST DEAL WITH IT!" 

          Last  night as I was working a 7pm to 7am shift, I was told to in a Text from my Boss to "TAKE CARE OF THE THINGS as 3 aides called off  and a husband of another LPN called of as her husband was rushed the hospital as he was hit by a truck..

           I texted my bitch boss the following:  So, damn sorry to hear all this. When are you coming to help me? Given what you said, I am the only Nurse having no aides  responsible for 48 patients?

          Given her response,  which blew my mind in an area I never thought conceivable , for the first time in my life I walked off a job and immediately quit!   

           Her response was: "Sorry, Mary! I really need a vaca right now, I won't come in to assist you. Just deal with it a document everything. If you need to do a double shift (that being 24 hrs worked) I will authorize that. That would be a great check Mary!"

            Perhaps highly  unprofessionally, I told her the following: "YOU STUPID BITCH! I AM RESIGNING AS OF THE VERY MOMENT GIVEN YOUR LACK OF DESIRE TO HELP ME SERVE 48  PATIENTS AS I AM ALONE WITH TO TAKE CARE OFF.  I AM ALSO NOTIFYING THE (city name removed)  FOR THEIR EMS PEOPLE TO CHECK OUT THE SAFETY TO THOSE I LEFT. "

           Mark, when I lay my head to rest for sleep,  I pray for my friends, coworkers and patients. I also pray all their pets and friends.   I also pray for my family, they really don't like me and that's okay. 

           

         I wish to thank you for giving me an avenue to speak my mind..

        Sincerely,

          Mary

         Mary, I thank you for your sharing. 

           You will not be without a job for long. NURSES ARE A RARE BREED THESE DAYS. 

            

           

  

FROM A NURSE NAMED ANNA. HER DAILY LIFE AS A NURSE IN ASSISTED LIVING FACILITY.

             FROM A NURSE NAMED  ANNA. HER DAILY LIFE AS A NURSE IN ASSISTED LIVING FACILITY in the USA. 

             

          Note this: She asked me to post this and share her experience as a nurse during current times.  She calls herself ANNA.  I thank her for her sharing and will abide her wish to be anonymous.  

                     NOTE THE PICTURE ABOVE IS A RANDOM CAPTURE AND NOT ANNA. 

                That being said, here's ANNA'S  story,  in her words, thoughts and emotions as  she wished to share across many avenues of  Nursing/.

                  HERE'S her words though I may edit a bit.  

                                       ANNA, CLEAN THE MUSHROOMS!!!

                                     My BOSS IS A TOTAL ASSHOLE!

                                      Calls herself  Treybian, and when she introduces herself to you she makes it sound totally absurd and  ignorant as  she attempts a French ascent instead of  the  Detroit  Ghetto Wench she is. or   . well, uh, like , a person having Stroke as she speaks before CHECKING OUT OF THE LIFE HOTEL  6 foot dirt nap this darling should reside in... 

                   Christ. Sorry to sound so harsh in what I write.

                 I just have to get some things out. okay? 

              Sorry, let me soldier on in my story, Mark.  Please edit at your will...

                             

   

         Clearly my boss is fucked up as she would ask me, no  actually yell at me to "CLEAN THE MUSHROOM  ABIGAIL, THE MUSHROOMS!"                I'd nod at her dumbass title and say something like: "What MUSHROOMS,  ARE TALKING ABOUT?!?! 

               In my head I am wondering if it were her that took some mushrooms from somewhere other  than a Denny's or Arbys. breaded delights. 

                     She'd respond with: "Beth, didn't you get Memo 117? "

           I go back with:" No Beth here/ I'm ANNA, Uh, who is Abigail? "  

                 Meanwhile, a 72 year old resident  we  call Phillip trips over his own feet and does a face plant to the floor. ( in Nursing, this in NOT anything unusual, though I and others see this and react.) 

                      As we run to aide Phillip, our boss just drones on like and chanting of the monumental damned. 

                    Boss looks alert!

                   Oh My God, does she show a sign of hope???? 

                          Then the twat says to as we aide Phillip....

 

                                 "Oh, OKAY!!!  I'll send you another memo!!! Keep  up the great work. Stephanie! " 

            There is no one named Stephanie  working here,,, 

               So many of us Nursing have bosses like this.

           

              Everyone please see what a Nurse deals with! 

                      On an lighter note:

                              

                                Me and the residence would call her "DSM  (dumb stupid moron"  amongst ourselves.  She was such a presumptuous bitch, so failing she couldn't even get the ascent correct to sound French.   

                   EDITORS NOTE TO ANNA: I did do some background checking on your boss. Sorry if this pisses you off.

                    Trebian  >last name for sake of privacy not shown<  (or however the fuck you spell it)   Graduating from Europa School of Serious Business  Management Striding (London, England)   7

 years ago   with a degree in Horticulture and Home Economics.  She worked hard, while gaining her degree as a grill cook at one of the first UKs KFC's in Europe

           Okay, so with that degree from a business college what the hell is there?

                   Obviously if you can speak the right way with a  background in plants, you too could become a SUPERVISOR  in American Health Care Facilities! 

                             

                  Mark,  none of  us were ever really sure.  She was just that blubberingly messed up and SHE WAS OUR BOSS!?!  

               

                 OH MY GOD, FOR FUCKS SAKE! SO FRUSTRATED DEALING WITH HER! 

        She walks down the hall, occasionally colliding with carts securing placed to second  Shift  Linens crew to perform their rounds, per normal as they do everyday to change beds and room towels and  linens yelling crap  for the head Nurse : "CATHERINE!  CATHERINE??? WHERE ARE YOU ???? I JUST WALKED INTO A SOME SHEET CART AND IT SHOULD NOT BE THERE! "

           Loved it when this happened as , this was about 7 PM and Catherine was off at 3. I'd often remind of this, yet this twat just couldn't g

           One of the reasons I still stay working here are the residences  chiming's  reacting to her BOSSES  rantings. It is their sharing's that  keep so close to them, 

             Jeremy, a retired US Army  General  in room 6 would say, usually laughing as he spoke: " You do know your chances of not hitting anything is higher if you actually look where you are walking! Y'know, it could help you. And by the way, WHERE'S MY FUCKING CHOCOTATE SNACK PACK?!?  YOU'RE MAKING 2 GRAND A WEEK FROM ME BEING HERE/"

                     Kate is a resident in room 2.  Kate was a Medic during the Dessert conflict at the age of  22. She joined the US Army after getting her Associates Degree as a medical tech and not finding sustainable work in Flint Michigan           

                  

                My boss, acting like the blind bitch she is said while looking at her tablet: "Great, Anna! I know you got this!"  

          Hey, most   of the people living here either have dementia or serious psychiatric malfunctions."  

          This stupid bitch would respond with an idiotic, yet corporate positive  response of: " Anna, we have a living from this.  The money rolls in keeping us employed and really, most of our patients have little to no clue what year or decade they live in." 

         I threw my stethoscope to the ground, telling  her  i was feeling ill and leaving.

        Such the moron she is. says: "I'm sorry you're feeling ill. Maybe COVID???"

         My back to her, I said clearly and most loudly:  "It's those like you in charge that make our patients little more  than a paycheck you fucking  bitch!"

           I cannot believe I was not fired over that incident!

           So desperate for Nurses it is surprising what one can get away with saying!

           GOOD GOD!

            WHEN YOU PLACE THE CARE OF YOUR ELDERS, DO RESEARCH FOR THE FACILITY YOU MAY PLACE THEM! 

             Most of these places will make you happy and less stressed to place a parent. AND ALL THEY CARE ABOUT IS THE MONEY THEY RECIEVE.

         BE CAREFUL. 

            SINCERELY ANNA from Medford, Massachusetts 

         I wish to thank ANNA for her sharing her story that is so like many others that are Nurses. 

        NOTE TO ANNA: You named the facility you work at and I Deleted it. If I overstepped my bounds doing so, I am sorry....

   I cannot thank you enough for sharing your thoughts! 

             

-Mark

         

        

        

         

      

FOR THE NURSES ENTRY DELAYED. i AM SORRY

           

             

For the Nurses entry, I am still working on my Mothers arrival at Bed 17. My mind is trying to convey what she wished to expressed to me. Fuck, could you imagine what My Mom would have posted if she'd had internet>>>>?????

Damn, she would've controlled this!

Again, sorry for the delay in continuing....

I will write this out.

Mark william Darus

JUST TOUCHING BASE WITH YOU ALL

 Just wished to touch base on the Nurses Life entry which is basically the sharing of what my Mother told me about her experience in the Nursing Profession in the 1940's. I think this to be the hardest yet most enjoyable writing endeavor I have ever tried. Closing my eyes as I write, I feel I have been sent backward in time in the 1970's when my mother shared so much with me about her life.

Bare with me as the continuous could take a while...

I thank you all my FB friends but I must also thank those from another source.

Across our fragile Blue Marble I thank all that take the time to read what I write these last 7 day with a mere three posts.

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A NURSES LIFE, PART 2.

  

                  Part two of a Nurses life.

       A reprisal of part 1/

       I arrive at work at 2PM on a sunny July day.  The humidity is horrendous, stifling and causing my cotton clothing to stick to my body. Not liking this as I walk toward the Dark Foreboding place we call TURNEY TECH, I yank on my blouse to take the sticky/clingyness away from me. 

       While walking the pathway to the entrance, I notice a few crows squawking and eating something and squirrels doing laps around oak trees chasing and playing.   I smile at these things. The air, though humid, smelled clear. 

                  Enter the building of the Insane.

        When I walk into this place each and everyday, it takes me a while to adjust to the odor of this place. Everything smells like either shit or alcohol mixed with bleach.

         I do this 5 shifts a week and face this fucking hellhole and try to maintain some sense of dignity for our patients as well as myself. 

         This  so-called STATE Hospital is a horror show.  

         Before clocking in, I scope the lay of the land before me:  

          There's two people on the floor tossing around unattended by anyone except gawkers watching their bodies act like fish out of water.

           Okay, I think, just a normal day at work. I do my job requires me to do and clock in.

          My Head Nurse, Mary,  approaches me and says I am needed in bed  17 on this floor.

           17?!? I thought to myself , how lovely this shift will start...

           "Oh, God, what did he do this time?"

           Mary looked at me with a weird combination of sad and smiling expression, saying: "You'll see... Sorry, Marion..." 

         Sorry my ass.

          I wonder what a mere 50 steps down a stinky illuminated corridor I will encounter at Bed 17.

          While heading there, a visitor, somehow having fallen to the floor, grabs my right ankle, causing me to fall and smack the disgusting tile floor.  I gave an OUCH!  As I helped the fallen lady to rise, she apologized  and  I went about my shift. 

             Not really surprising for visitors to fall down in a place like this. So many wheelchairs covering the walls on both sides of  aisle ways where WWII injured taken outside their rooms to perhaps socialize with one another.  So many of these boys shattered, my heart cried out for them, more often than not  the staring with blank expressions  after having lost a leg/arm/eyesight as they served Our Country to protect us and others across the globe. 

         Heading, as my HeadNurse said I should do, my mind is thinking about something to make me happier. Perhaps an embrace from a man named Ted..

          Such dream wishes fall short as....

            I'm approached by a man I only am allowed to know as 'h' as I begin  my rounds.   I say "Hi H!" 

            "Mare, you need to get to 17!"  he says to me clearly as his so fragile body appears so tiny in a wheelchair after having lost both arms and legs during the D-day invasion on June 6th this year.  God love him! His mind and thinking is as clear as a bell. 

            "Thanks, H!' I saying, reaching down and giving him a hug. Feeling his scruffy face against mine, I say to him: "If I get a chance I'm gonna give you a shave."  

           "Mare, do I really need  a face lashing, darling?"  he said with a thick Scottish accent , a wicked smile mating his mouth to eyes for sincerity. 

          "Well,  Sir!  You most certainly do and I will do that for you."

                     END OF PART ONE OF THIS SERIES.

I thank you for reading,

              On to Part two of my Mothers sharing to me.

         My lord I will! I said in a strong Nurses voice that would gain respect of all except doctors as they believed themselves gods on Earth.  Doctors love to think they are the end-all be-all when it comes to human survival. Well, most of the them are pompous possessors of tiny penises and love to SHOUT AND BLAME NURSES.  

        Feeling a cough rising in my throat I gave out a nasty, flemingly cough as I  walked to Bed 17. 

       Bed 17 is both a horrific place yet sometimes amazing area to take care of. It's  dweller.  calling him 'S'. We called him S as his dogtags were barely left on him as most of his head was blown to bits during the D-Day invasion of Normandy. Seriously speaking, the MEDICS thought him a Nazi  wondering how he could still be alive. Apparently a few of his BOOTCAMP  buddies corrected the medics for his treatment instead of tossing him to the sands of death. 

       

 

What is a Nurses Life?

                          

                     

              What is a Nurses shift in their day to day life?

                   I would also add how they maintain the living and do so. 

            while we grumble about lack of supplies and other mundane elements.

                         This entry is for Nurses.

           Does it really matter if they be RN, LPN or newer titles created I have yet to gain an understanding of.

           A wee bit of my background with Nurses in my 61 years of life. 

          My Mother,  Marion F. Darus was a Nurse around WWII. She worked a few hospitals in her life before marrying my father where they in their union created my sisters and I. 

         She did a few years at a place called Turney Tech (which basically was a State Funded Mental Ward for the Insane.)  It was Officially called THE CLEVELAND STATE HOSPITAL.

             https://clevelandhistorical.org/items/show/576

        Oh, my, the stories of that time in her life she shared with me!

      Imagine being a Nurse in the 1940's.

      Imagine being a Nurse  treating those with mental illnesses during that era. Other than Frontal Lobotomies, morphine and other Opiates to sedate, how did she care for these ill patients under her care?

     Let's take a walk down a few roads my loving mother shared with me while I was quite young. Maybe she knew I'd write something for others while telling me what she dealt with every day for a few years. 

         This is written as I think my Mother would have wanted from her perspective.

     

        I arrive at work at 2PM on a sunny July day.  The humidity is horrendous, stifling and causing my cotton clothing to stick to my body. Not liking this as I walk toward the Dark Foreboding place we call TURNEY TECH, I yank on my blouse to take the sticky/clingyness away from me. 

       While walking the pathway to the entrance, I notice a few crows squawking and eating something and squirrels doing laps around oak trees chasing and playing.   I smile at these things. The air, though humid, smelled clear. 

                  Enter the building of the Insane.

        When I walk into this place each and everyday, it takes me a while to adjust to the odor of this place. Everything smells like either shit or alcohol mixed with bleach.

         I do this 5 shifts a week and face this fucking hellhole and try to maintain some sense of dignity for our patients as well as myself. 

         This  so-called STATE Hospital is a horror show.  

         Before clocking in, I scope the lay of the land before me:  

          There's two people on the floor tossing around unattended by anyone except gawkers watching their bodies act like fish out of water.

           Okay, I think, just a normal day at work. I do my job requires me to do and clock in.

          My Head Nurse, Mary,  approaches me and says I am needed in bed  17 on this floor.

           17?!? I thought to myself , how lovely this shift will start...

           "Oh, God, what did he do this time?"

           Mary looked at me with a weird combination of sad and smiling expression, saying: "You'll see... Sorry, Marion..." 

         Sorry my ass.

          I wonder what a mere 50 steps down a stinky illuminated corridor I will encounter at Bed 17.

          While heading there, a visitor, somehow having fallen to the floor, grabs my right ankle, causing me to fall and smack the disgusting tile floor.  I gave an OUCH!  As I helped the fallen lady to rise, she apologized  and  I went about my shift. 

             Not really surprising for visitors to fall down in a place like this. So many wheelchairs covering the walls on both sides of  aisle ways where WWII injured taken outside their rooms to perhaps socialize with one another.  So many of these boys shattered, my heart cried out for them, more often than not  the staring with blank expressions  after having lost a leg/arm/eyesight as they served Our Country to protect us and others across the globe. 

         Heading, as my HeadNurse said I should do, my mind is thinking about something to make me happier. Perhaps an embrace from a man named Ted..

          Such dream wishes fall short as....

            I'm approached by a man I only am allowed to know as 'h' as I begin  my rounds.   I say "Hi H!" 

            "Mare, you need to get to 17!"  he says to me clearly as his so fragile body appears so tiny in a wheelchair after having lost both arms and legs during the D-day invasion on June 6th this year.  God love him! His mind and thinking is as clear as a bell. 

            "Thanks, H!' I saying, reaching down and giving him a hug. Feeling his scruffy face against mine, I say to him: "If I get a chance I'm gonna give you a shave."  

           "Mare, do I really need  a face lashing, darling?"  he said with a thick Scottish accent , a wicked smile mating his mouth to eyes for sincerity. 

          "Well,  Sir!  You most certainly do and I will do that for you."

                     END OF PART ONE OF THIS SERIES.

I thank you for reading,

Love and Hugs to you all!

-MARK WILLIAM DARUS

PS: This before placing this on FB. 

 Call this an author editor share...

  About a Nurses Life: Part 1

Regarding Nurses. from a post a few days back when I asked for feedback...

I thank those that shared life aspects about Nurses. The three of you that cared enough to take the time and share fueled my fire to write what I started today,

Thanks to

Katheryn M. Womack

Nancy Shea

Yvette Leerdam

As I wrote this latest entry, barely getting glimpse of thought of something to run with, the image of my late Mother smacked me in the face!

I swear to God it was her, my mother, the smartest human I have ever known.

Her image/soul approached me, my heart doing catapults before her wondrous being.

She told me to calm down as she took me into her arms after decades without such glorious embrace.

"Just write what I shared with you my son listening to talk radio many decades ago .

Just tell the truth when you express your thoughts and NEVER, ,my son be afraid when you do so! Some may like you, many more might hate you. My Son, Mark, I would've given a hundred female births to grant you life from my body.

My son, you've many a gift and you know those at your age.

Keep running with them, my boy..... Just write and to some it will make sense and others not. Son, that IS how life works.

My Mothers image began to fade away from me granting me a video from a band named Edens Bridgel.,

I DEDICATE THIS ENTRY TO MARION F DARUS.

Love you mom

Saturday, September 2, 2023

What is a Nurses Life?

What is a Nurses shift in their day to day life?

I would also add how they maintain the living and do so.

while we grumble about lack of supplies and other mundane elements.

This entry is for Nurses.

Does it really matter if they be RN, LPN or newer titles created I have yet to gain an understanding of.

A wee bit of my background with Nurses in my 61 years of life.

My Mother, Marion F. Darus was a Nurse around WWII. She worked a few hospitals in her life before marrying my father where they in their union created my sisters and I.

She did a few years at a place called Turney Tech (which basically was a State Funded Mental Ward for the Insane.) It was Officially called THE CLEVELAND STATE HOSPITAL.

https://clevelandhistorical.org/items/show/576

Oh, my, the stories of that time in her life she shared with me!

Imagine being a Nurse in the 1940's.

Imagine being a Nurse treating those with mental illnesses during that era. Other than Frontal Lobotomies, morphine and other Opiates to sedate, how did she care for these ill patients under her care?

Let's take a walk down a few roads my loving mother shared with me while I was quite young. Maybe she knew I'd write something for others while telling me what she dealt with every day for a few years.

This is written as I think my Mother would have wanted from her perspective.

                    

                                

 

          

           

           

        

         

       

    

          

    

         

        

        

 

Trying to make my WorkPlace Happier...

   Trying to make my Workplace Happier...

              Whoaaa babies

Got my shirt today to ROCK this Friday's Bright Shirt Day at work. .

Note: Bright Shirt Fridays is NOT endorsed by CS as it was something I decided to run with to brighten spirits and lighten the hearts of my coworkers.

Nope, not going to give a glance at it, so you'll just have to wait. MUHAHAHAHA!

My wife loves it, or so she said <good wives often indulge the stupidity of their husbands when they like them>. Oddly, she quickly started gagging, descending toward the 'dry heaves' when I put it on .

Hmmmmm? Is she lying when she said she 'loved' it???

>>>>NOW, A MESSAGE FROM MY SPONSOR<<<<

At URLINE, we believe your experience at work is most important! We wish to give your employer a vast area to explore and create harmony and safety in the WORKPLACE. We offer a massive array of shelving, benches and ergonomics like no one else on the planet!

That being said we now offer a a plethora of CONDOM designs to fit every need! Be it a random meeting at a bar or just a married couple not wishing to spawn too soon, WE GOT YOUR BACK! (OR FRONT?)

We feeling we perform a function needed by employees, we are also there for the company they work. Less, pregnancies translates to better worker output and less time off, thus granting you more productivity!

We think we're a TOTAL AND COMPLETE WIN-WIN FOR ALL!

URLINE BELIEVES IN GROWTH, yet not too much!

>>>> END OF SPONSOR COMMERCIAL<<<

Just to let you all know...

Except the Shirt thing, and no my wife did not gag,

I MADE THIS WHOLE THING UP.

I so love create fake commercials....

It was my wish to make you laugh, or just go (WHAT THE PHUQ?!?!)

Love and hugs,

-Mark, FLYINGSCOOTER and SQUIRREL -BRO!

LETZ ALL MAKE BRIGHT SHIRT FRIDAYS A TRADITION!

I thank HAWKEYE, for leading us by example to a bright future in morale and how I felt inspired by him!    This was quickly deleted from my company wall. Oh, well. Fuck them if they don't understand comical writing.... That is why I share my thoughts on FB and here first. 

    Thank you for taking your time to read this.

       As ever and running FORWARD!

      very truly yours,

       -Mark

    

               Met some asshole after work today.

         What he shared sent me backward 

            to a piece I wrote some 11 years ago.     

                      WARNING: THIS IS A LONG READ FOR YOU.

HUGS AND LOVE FROM ME.

Met some asshole in line at Speedway on Lakeshore and Vine st after work this morning after I got my wife House Blend coffee and me a 6 of Great Lakes IPA then stepping to the LINE.

He, upset about the length of the line, rambled about how he needed to get home to his family )))all this fucker had was a case of PEPSI and a 6 of Bud Light(((. He was grumbling and such and I said: "Chill, man. The issue is all the Idiots going for lottery tickets slowing shit down. It's not the staff."

He than said something I still have a hard time believing.

"Hey shithead! I gotta keep my bitch happy, got two kids with her and don't wanna write them off like my other two kids because of bitch!"

Flabbergasted, feeling a stress to use my mouth carefully, I said to him, "is there anyway I can help?"

He was then called toward a check-out person, the smell of burning hot dogs and other roller items catching hold of me. Yeah, we are in a Speedway after all...

As he finished paying for his items, he glanced at me and said this: "I hope you never make the same mistakes I have."

I nodded to him, thanking him for the advice and wished him the best....

This hit the WAYBACK MACHINE for me as I wrote something about like via friends/coworkers life-sharing's. this some 11 years ago....

This is what I wrote then.

Titled:

Deadbeat parents: Fuck you, I've got a new family.

The term Deadbeat parent, by most aspects of society, only deals in monetary values. What of the emotional destruction to the kids as their parents so easily forget them?

Ever wonder how a man could completely turn his back on his kids after spending years with them? They appear to be a near perfect, highly attentive father and husband. Neighbors would consider him devoted to his family: Sisters and brothers might say ‘this marriage and being a daddy has done him a world of good.’

I do not imply that all these men/women are Psychopaths, but one must wonder.

How is it these men/women can so effortlessly turn their backs on their own? Do they feel any guilt, shame or remorse? I have to think they don’t or can’t. One has to have a serious lack of emotion to do such a thing and ditch those they supposedly loved or at least gave an illusion to all those around them that they cared in the first place.

These is no statistical information about this: I am simply putting a theory of my own observations out there in the hopes to get responses based on personal events. Be it the child that was coldly blown off or the parent that did the distancing.

I do not subscribe to the bullshit lines we all hear so often: I just can’t stand to see that bitch! I’d rather be without the kids than deal with her. He was unfaithful and he back stabbed me to get the kids, so fuck him, let him deal with it. I need to move past this and go forward. I being proactive and take this as just a phase in life.

My favorite line: I’ve got a new family now and I need to work on that…

These people are twisted in the highest order, and therefore, deserve some examination.

How is it their new mates cannot see the simple, glaring fact: If they did this to those before them, what makes them think the same will not occur again?

Love conquers all? This new love is better, and will last. I’d never treat him/her like their ex, and they’ll appreciate it all the more and stay with me and my kids. I’m a much better lover! Who in their right mind would walk away from that?

They so readily fall for this person that ‘sacrificed their own kids to be with me and mine.’ They tell there friends this, and so willingly believe it they have little idea what they are getting into.

These people have become the new, soon to be abused, next conquest for the Psychopath. And they are taking their kids in tow into this world of lies and disorder. God, or some higher power help them if they have a child by this person as nothing can create such an emotional wasteland like that of the predator.

Granted, this is not always the case as some people are so emotionally fucked up and scarred that they simply don’t know their own mind and are fools to love and the feeling it gives them. This works both ways as both can give up their own for something they believe lacking in their lives and wish for something new, so bright and shining: to make them feel alive and important again.

Let me state this: I pass no judgment on these people. The Psychopathic or the wandering fools that place a ‘new love’ above all else. They both leave scars on all those involved and place themselves above all else. They are both equally selfish and are sociopaths in various levels of degree. Small wonder the children of these human train wrecks grow up with bonding issues with peers, teachers and authority in general.

They have been betrayed by those they loved the most: their own parent. Distance can hurt and kill a Childs development. These kids can feel so badly as they think they did something so horribly wrong to make the parent that cut them out of their young lives. With guilt, shame, and some lack on their part, they grow up with these thoughts that only grow larger with each passing year that it does not get addressed.

Perhaps they waste all emotions in their young lives. The past they’ve lived with takes over, the hurt encompasses them, a futility in the most innocent of love and they grow like a house built on sand versus good bedrock. They grow cold, slowly losing touch with the good things, like tossing a ball with dad or baking cookies with mom. Feeling nothing is better than feeling good to be hurt someday.

As mom/dad bring some new person into their lives, and seeing this happen repeatedly, they get a feeling that love is merely temporary and grow with that knowledge. After all, one parent left them for some other family and forgot about them. Left them with nothing, or worse, a lame explanation: You’ll understand when you grow up…

They will get older. With that getting older they have learned the value of relationships: They are Bic Lighters. A flame that burns briefly and when it passes, just toss it out and get a new one.

When I volunteered for a youth center for a span of about 5 years, hearing teens talk about their parents and those that left them: the myriad of relationships the custodial parent had, they got the feeling, ‘fuck it, just go find somebody else’.

Emotions? These kids have little need for things that brought them pain. Get close to someone that will be gone in a space of months.

I believe this is where a new generation of Psychopaths are born.

Keep this in mind, and again I state, 4% of the people of the United States are Psychopaths. This accounts for roughly 3 to 4 million people. This number is growing with each generation. Mostly nonviolent sociopaths, they have a strong sense of this: Fuck them before they fuck you. Ditch the bitch before she drops the hammer on me. I’ll take him for what I can before he’s unfaithful to me and chucks me to the curb.

They learn to use others with little or no remorse. They use this skill in school, relationships and jobs as they progress through life. These kids have a cold, dead look in their eyes, a ‘soulless look’ when questioned about an action they did.

They lose all hope over time with so many failed relationships on their parents part. They feel somehow to blame for this. This happens because most fucked up parents would find it easier to blame them instead of themselves for ’this’ relationship dying.

And this seems to start with one of their biological parents splitting and cutting them off without so much as a goodbye.

If this child’s issues are ignored, neglected or compounded by the staying parents inability to take responsibility for their own actions, they will grow with a cracked-mirrored look at life.

Monkey see, monkey do.