I can’t believe I haven’t written about this already, because it’s the one thing that pisses me off more than anything else about living here. That’s when the workers assume that I’m confused about something, or that I’ve made a mistake and they know better. My issues are physical, not intellectual.
Here’s a harmless example. I have a humidifier in my room. When it’s full of water it gurgles pleasantly every five minutes or so. My sense of humour compels me to take advantage of this opportunity for silliness.
After it gurgles, I say “Excuse me!”
PSW: “No dear. That wasn’t your stomach. That was the humidifier.”
She killed my joke! “I know it was the humidifier. I was making a joke.”
PSW: “Oh …. That was funny. Hahahaha.”
Ironically, the times when they think I made a mistake, THEY are actually the ones who are wrong. I had a dentist appointment back in January, another one in March, and a date with an oral surgeon sandwiched in the middle in February. Not a lot of fun but at least the appointments got me out of the building during lockdown. The three of them proved to be problematic for the nurses.
I have a heart valve issue that demands I take an antibiotic one hour before dental procedures. A few days before the February appointment with the surgeon, I reminded the nurses here that they needed to obtain a prescription. This is something the dentist does routinely. No big deal. An LPN came to see me.
LPN: “Joy, I called your dentist’s office to get a prescription and they told me you already had that tooth fixed back in January. You don’t have an appointment, honey.” Her tone is gentle, as though she’s delivering bad news.
I roll my eyes in frustration: “Actually, my appointment is with an oral surgeon, not the dentist.”
LPN: “Oh.”
Me, trying not to show how exasperated I am: “When you’re doing something for me and there’s confusion, or something doesn’t seem to make sense, please check with me first. Don’t just assume that I’m wrong because I usually know what I’m doing, and don’t make those kinds of mistakes.”
The day before the appointment, I call the front desk to confirm the arrangements I’d made weeks ago to get to and from the surgeon’s office. I discover the booking has been cancelled. When the LPN thought I’d made a mistake, I guess she went ahead and axed my reservation without checking with me first. Fortunately, they were still able to drive me the next day.
Yet one more broken tooth later, I prepare for the March appointment and remind the same nurse that I need an antibiotic. This time we conduct our business over the phone.
Me: “The appointment is with my dentist and he can write the prescription. The office number is 456-7890.”
Five minutes later she calls me back. “Joy, when I called the surgeon’s office for an antibiotic, they told me you don’t have an appointment there.”
OMG. It’s the same bloody nurse. Are we really going to do this again?
I summon all the patience I can. “The appointment is with my regular dentist. Did you call the phone number I just gave you?” I already knew the answer.
LPN, laughing: “Actually, no. I didn’t even write it down. I’m so sorry. What is it again?”
This is just the most recent example of workers thinking I must have gotten it wrong. To be fair, they are probably not used to residents who make their own arrangements. They’re super busy and trying to cross things off on a list as quickly as possible. When things like this happen, they make me feel like a doddering old lady. I guess I’m a little touchy because I’m not old – at least by the standards where I live – and I resent being treated as though I am. It’s awful to live with this kind of frustration. It’s a slow, ever-present burn. GRRRRRR.
This is what happens when people with disabilities need round-the-clock care, the kind that’s only available in institutions that cater to seniors.
In this case, I suppose there’s another explanation that has nothing to do with her underestimating my cranial capacity. She simply screwed up twice in a row. She was confused.
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