I’m in Tizzy

17 Jan

yummy breakfast

I woke up early and thought I would continue reading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. It is really getting into the nitty gritty now. The family is now talking to the author of the book and all sorts of secrets are being discovered. On top of Henrietta’s cells being used for decades for various experiments and being sold for money,<a of which the family has received none, they had a little sister that was put into a sanitarium for black people only and was treated so inhumanely that it was heartbreaking. My emotions just became unraveled. How can humans treat each so terribly. Sometimes I hear how the Indians, the African Americans, other races need to get over their past history which we can do nothing about now. The atrocities I am reading about happened in my generation. Henrietta's cells were taken in 1951 in the only hospital that allowed black people in their hallways. Did you know that John Hopkins donated his money for a hospital to be built for the poor and indigent and that they were to be treated for free and that those who could pay would cover the expenses. This was in the 1920's. What a kind hearted man but that doesn't mean that the people who worked at the hospital were kind hearted. Of course this brought my thoughts to my brother who is mentally handicapped. He has always been taken care of properly for the most part. Because of his violent behavior as a teenager, he moved to Parsons State Hospital where they began a new program to help patients with abilities to be able to become self-sufficient. It was a hard decision for the family but for me a relief. At that time there was Special Ed at the schools. There were about 4 of us who had siblings in the class. There would be comments, teasing, etc. (One thing I find really cool now is whenever I am talking to a couple of my old friends from that era they ask about him and tell me to tell him hi.) He stayed there until he was 21 and then became a ward of the state in Missouri. He has lived in care homes since. He was able to work as a janitor or doing piece work until the last couple of years when he became physically unable to work. Some places were better than others and now he is in a apartment with 2 other men who are attended 24 hours by case workers. Unfortunately there is a lot of turn over due to the low pay but I have liked many of the caretakers. It is a very difficult job and I admire the people who work with the mentally disabled and handicapped. I always feel like a terrible sister that I don't have more patience with my brother. I have a friend who has a sister who is the same age as John with the same mental handicap as him. She has lived at home all these years. When I met her, I thought what a loving, loving family. I can use the excuse of a painful history with John growing up but I really can't at this stage. What can I do today. I am going to write my brother a letter and tell him I love him.
The next thoughts went to my Mom. I hate where she is at. I hate that we have put her in a nursing home. I hate that she has to wait for someone to come and walk with her to the bathroom because the risk of falling is too great of a chance for her take doing it on her own even though she uses a walker. I hate that we actually say to her to pee in her diaper if no one comes soon enough. She doesn't want to eat in the dining room. She hasn't played bridge. She doesn't watch tv. I wish I could move her in with us but we have bought an rv park at 7000 feet. Another excuse. I have friends who have their parents living with them now, have friends who had them live with them for a period of time until it became too much. Denny's Mom lived with us for 1 1/2 years which was great until we couldn't be gone for even 5 minutes without something happening to her. It was sad when she had to move into an assisted living but also a relief but a guilty feeling of relief. I hate that there is not enough staff and that these facilities don't pay their CNA's more so that there is not so much turnover. What can I do for my Mom today. I can call her and I am going to write her a letter and tell her I love her and thank her for all she has done for me. I was listening to a guy on tv and he said we should all tell our parents "Thank You for what you have done for me". I will also send her some pictures because she isn't using her computer now she doesn't have the fun of emails and photos anymore.
Do I feel any better after writing? No. But I will continue on with the day, work on my quilt which is almost done, pet the puppies, fix a healthy breakfast for us. It is going to be a piece of bread with a hole cut out in the middle, drop an egg in the hole, top it with cheese, avocado and a tomato and voila and healthy, easy meal.

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