eirian84's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- FMA, & Death at Work I actually feel like writing in this this morning. I've got to stay up until 11:30 'cause I've got the car (so I have to pick Mom up for lunch), so what better way to kill time? So sit back and grab the highest caffeinated beverage/snack you can find, 'cause this is going to get long and dull. ...err... So, a while ago (sometime in Feb.), I got the entire FMA series. Japanese subtitled. Beautiful. But (and I hate to sound blasphemous), I actually like the English dubbed version better. I'm in love with Ed's NA seiyuu(voice actor), Vic Mignogna. And Roy's NA seiyuu, Travis Willingham, just brings across his arrogance, manipulative personality (and procrastination!) so beautifully. I also think I'd like the Japanese version better if they had better translators, because after about the first 3 eps, the wording gets so confusing and... weird. They'll use a word that you have to stop and think, what's a synonym for --? The Japanese language doesn't have past or future tense in the same sense English does, so every now and then they'll say something in present-tense that I realize is supposed to be past-tense. And so on. The eps I haven't seen yet are confusing, but the ones I've seen before are really good. But I still like the NA version better. I don't understand that! I love the Japanese version of Inuyasha, and all the Hayao Miyazaki films are better in Japanese, despite Disney doing a superb job in translating them. There is just, really, something lost in the translation. Not the words (quite often Inuyasha is translated verbatim), but the way it is acted. Okay, what I ordered was the entire 51-episode series of FMA, and the movie. A 7-disc set. I only got 6 discs. I got the entire series, but no movie. I want the damn movie! And we ordered it from a Hawaiian-based company. Turns out Hawaii is 4 hours behind us. I am not awake when they are, so I kept pestering Mom to call them. She finally did, & they're sending the movie. I'm finally gonna get to see the movie! Yay! Last night, I worked 200 half the night, then got moved over to 400/600. It was a big shuffle. I was supposed to work 200 all night (which was fine). But. The woman on 500 had to leave at 2am (she works evenings, but she used to work nights; now she just fills in sometimes), and they didn't have anyone following her. So. They switched the 4/600 aid, Donna, over to 500, & I went to 4/600. I don't actually take care of 2 hallways. 400 is pretty much self-care, at least at night; I'm just there in case they need anything, & I help some people get ready in the morning, very minor stuff. 600 is the heavy-care wing, so it gets split. The 600 aid takes the first 7 rooms (making 10 residents when all the beds are full, which they are now), and 4/600 takes the last 7 (again, making 10 residents when we're full, which we are). I hadn't been over there since sometime @ the end of January. I know, that's only about a month, a little over, but considering the fact that things change drastically just when I'm off for 2 days, an entire month is a long time. 3 new residents were on 600, 2 of them I didn't know (the 3rd was from 500), 1 resident's been moved down to 400. Saturday morning, a resident died. I heard about it from Kathryn when we were getting ready to leave, and I was so sad. He'd gone to the hospital for a fractured hip or something like that, and they found out he had double-pneumonia or something. He was the sweetest guy. Very big, but the kind of guy you'd want for a grandpa. He had Alzheimer's, but his wife shared a room w/ him, & she didn't want to live on 100. Sometimes she got really snappy and sort of mean, but he was always so sweet. He was always apologizing for calling in the middle of the night (he had trouble getting out of bed, and sometimes he needed help finding the bathroom & finding his way back to bed, even though it was only about 5-10 feet away.), and he had a really nice sense of humor. His wife would get to harping in the morning when I helped put his ted hose on, and he would give me this commiserating smile that was just so adorable. Sometimes he'd let her boss him around, but sometimes he'd stand up to her. I never had a problem with her bossing me around (I mean, she did it, but I didn't mind, 'cause I know I know how to do my job), but he would speak up for me, telling her to just let me do my job. He was so great. I knew, going into this profession, that people I worked closely with would die. Hello, that's what happened to my Aunt. I don't have a problem with death; I'm a bit callous like that, I suppose. Maybe not callous, but... detached. I take change well, and death is just another change; I'm not going to see this person anymore. I lived with Aunt Mary for almost 2 whole months, but I wasn't particularly saddened by her death; it just meant the loss of my job. I know, it sounds callous, but that's how I personally felt. I never cried, or even really felt like crying about it. Sometimes I would wonder (and still wonder) what she would think of me working at the place she hated staying at, or how well she'd think I was doing at my job. But the only people close enough to me to make me cry when they died were my Grandma (when I was 7), and my cousin Christy (when I was... 16, almost 17.) I almost felt like crying this morning, helping his wife get ready. His funeral is today, so she wanted to be up and ready in time. It was so sad seeing his bed empty, and to not see him in that room. He was always in there when I worked. His chair was still there, his bed was made... And I wish I'd been able to tell her "I'm sorry about ----." But the words just sound so trite, and I'm not good at emotional stuff. And I don't know how I would have been able to handle any reaction she had. If she got sad, I'd feel horrible for bringing it up. If she tried to play it off like, "Oh, thank you, that's very kind" or something, I think I would have gotten upset. I knew, going into this, that people would die. There was a woman who died on 600 at midnight on New Years. I shit you not. I was working 400, & the 600 aid, Cindy (my mentor, actually), was "leaking" (not really crying, but her eyes were watering). She really liked this lady, & she works days now, so she'd really gotten to know her, I guess. I really liked her too, & I did sort of know her (you'd be surprised how well you get to know people on nightshift, even if they're supposed to be sleeping). But I wasn't really upset. I was making jokes w/ the nurse (she has this thing where people die when she's on duty, it's really funny), & I felt bad for making all these sort of tasteless, morbid jokes, w/ Cindy around. I tried to tone it down & just not speak a lot. I helped Cindy get the body ready for the family to come see her. (That was creepy; we had to turn the body & put a fresh pad under her, even though her bowels hadn't released anything, & when we laid her on her back again, the air in her lungs came out, like she was exhaling! Her skin was still warm, rigor mortis hadn't set in, & yet there was something about her that was just 'dead'. But, I think her muscles must have been twitching, because every now & then I got the idea that she was still moving, & I'm like, "Are you sure she's really dead?" I didn't say it, 'cause I trusted Linda's nursing skills, but still, creepy. But not sad. She was dead; I couldn't change it, so why be sad about it? She wasn't sick any longer, wasn't suffering.) But she was on 600, and she was hospice. He was in the first stages of Alzheimer's, but otherwise, he was pretty healthy. I guess it's affecting me because I didn't expect him to die. People on 600 die. Sometimes on 500. 400 is practically self-care. It's as close to living on their own as they can get w/out actually doing so. He was so sweet. I wish I could see him again. 8:12 a.m. - 2006-03-08 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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