Bob, I’m having trouble using the computer today; will you please forward to all the usual suspects?
I’m moving to the Iroquois nursing home today. That’s pretty scary. Huh! The rest of my life . . .
I have acquired a particular fondness for you all here at Crouse Hospital. We’ve been mutually annoying to one another on a fairly regular basis but, still, I’m glad I’ve been here. I don’t do well in captivity but I’m learning.
I’ve been learning to fail. This morning I looked at the roses and finally understood the difference between “dead” and “drooping.” Boy, am I drooping. It’s been really weird to travel the distance from “Get out of my way; I can do this better than you” to pushing a button and waiting for someone to put a pillow behind my head. Sheesh, you think I’m sick or something?
I resent the fact that you’ve been as good as you all have been because I don’t know how to deal with it. I have been out in the cold of poverty, disability and isolation for two decades; coming into the warmth of total care is too weird to describe.
The first day at Crouse Hospital, Nancy brought me a soft, creamy blanket with the Crouse logo. I have slept under it every night; tonight it will be in a new location. Yesterday, Peter brought me a turquoise knitted lap robe; keeping me warm is your thing, huh?—or just keeping me covered? 😉
Somebody should return the Dietary credit card to Alex. That was totally cool. I have been a long-term patient at the worst possible time from a feeding point of view, but you all made it okay. Did you know that the cafeteria serves fudge chiffon pie? My preferred end is Death by Chocolate.
Dr. Kronenberg came to see me one day. I was surprised that he was of average height; one expects the Big Guy to be a big guy. When I complimented him on the hospital, he gestured to a couple of staff people in the room and said, “It’s these people who get the credit.” Well, no, not exactly.
For a decade I worked as a temporary secretary. I worked in about a hundred places and learned that the attitude in the front office filters down to the mailroom. Crouse’s “attitude” is one of kindness that I have seen reflected at every level—Respiratory, Dietary, housekeeping, nursing and so on and around. Because the care is good at Crouse Hospital, it can only mean that there is great human goodness in Dr. Kronenberg.
Crouse Hospital should change its motto to “We treat people, not diseases.”
There’s more I’d like to say but I’m too tired.
Go in peace, and thanks for the caring,
Anne C Woodlen
*From The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”