Rounding up Goats

SHE LOVED IT!

Yep, THE Wife received her late birthday present in the mail from Apple and was pleased as punch. So, I survive yet another spousal birthday, still in the good graces of my ever-so-slightly better half.

They have been hard at work for more than a month now remodeling the Critical Care Unit and yesterday we moved the last five patients back to home turf, although the contractors hadn't finished the nurses station yet and we still are having the nurses call system installed. That's OK, though, it's better to be working in somewhat familiar chaos than the alternative, which was across the hall in another area of the hospital altogether. It was a pain having to work there and rush back over here constantly to get supplies or stuff we didn't have over there.

It's amazing the changes that have occurred in the 12-odd years I have been working at this hospital. New additions, several remodelings later, and those who built this place would never even recognize it. And all the people who have come and gone; I can't even remember them all.

One thing about this place, however, challenges my desire to believe in a spirit, an afterlife, or another plane of existence. You would THINK that after all the souls who have passed on in this place that at least ONE soul would have stuck around to haunt the place. Well, if they have, they've pretty much kept to themselves, because there are NO stories or myths I am familiar with concerning any kind of ghosts or strange happenings. Perhaps there's some sort of contract arrangement or understanding of dying observed by the departed local 606 union that stipulates that all people dying here must vacate the premises to allow room for the constant stream of NEWLY departed, otherwise there would be a real logjam of psychic energy building up here by now.

And as far as dying is concerned, well, I guess you all have watched the movies and the TV shows where actors put on such graceful and inspiring, as well as tear jerking dying scenes, it almost makes you want to croak yourself. Well, it ain't that way, my friends. People die quietly, most often times unconscious, gasping for a last breath, so drugged out for their comfort there's not going to be any flowery speeches or last goodbye advices. There are numerous tubes and wires and all sorts of life support equipment almost burying them, and no matter what we do, the reaper WILL have his way, and a soul shall depart to complete the circle of life.

Families invariably demand we do everything we can to keep dear Granny Nanny alive, despite the fact she's 101, has been curled up in a fetal position in a nursing home for the last 15, rotting from bedsores while in what are really nothing more than human warehouses for the already dead from Alzheimer's or dementia. I never understood why families do such horror to their relatives in the name of love. I have made it clear to MY family that when I have truly stopped LIVING, to let me DIE. All of you really need to discuss such things with YOUR loved ones and save yourselves the suffering you can endure from misguided decisions made by people who love you.

Meanwhile, back at the Hold, I have a goat, one of the pygmy girls, who has found a way to slip under the fence somewhere and get out of the smaller pen I have been keeping the goats in. I will have to catch her doing it to figure out exactly where she does it. Smart little fuck! Today I cleaned all the goat poop and old bedding out of the barn and put in fresh stuff. The goat poop will go to the garden.

May you all have a pleasant day today, despite all the shit hitting the fan in the world right now.