depression
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Folding towels. That’s all he does. Some things are worse than death. L:ike growing old. Or dementia. I’ve worked with a lot of old people in my time as a CNA. Thousands, by now. And even without dementia, growing old is no picnic. It is pain, slowness, weakness, and all kinds of medical issues. But…
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“What do you think Dr. P? Did you imagine me capable of this?” “How about you, Shirley? – you were the one who told me to take classes again.” I think about them sometimes. The staff and other patients in the hospital with me. Shirley was a nurse who dealt with my sleepwalking, gave me…
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I really hate myself sometimes. I worry a lot. I make stupid mistakes I shouldn’t be making. I second guess myself all the time. And I have a brain that breaks apart sometimes. I put it back together though. A few times. I’ve pieced together a lucrative career out of nurse assisting and owning a…
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“I’ll never speak on this again. Looks like I’m attention seeking, I know that’s what you’re all thinking.” “No, we’re not. We think you’re in great danger of hurting yourself,” Dr. P said. I sat in the turtle suit that seemed to swallow me whole. It was far too big. They took my clothes, everything…
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I stood my ground, I said no, and left the room. A patient had a PEG tube and couldn’t stop fiddling and playing with it. I cleaned him up and got him back in the bed, but he still would not stop going for it. I tried to talk him out of it; I tried…
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I’ve been reading a book popular in psychology circles and recommended to me by numerous doctors and therapists. The Body Keeps the Score, by Bessel Van Der Kolk. It’s thick and complicated and right up my alley. Triggering, too. He’s talking about the patients in psych wards and hospitals in which he’s worked. Talking about…



