EklektikosByStar

Star shares her writing with the world.

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I am a Wordpress rookie. As promised, come hell or high water, I finally got my “baby blog” going. For the time being, it is not interactive. No, it’s just a place for me to share my written words, and for others to take what they like, and leave the rest. At the start of this endeavor I am almost 66 years old. Allegedly “retired”, I never lack for inspiration in a world pulsing with options…and distractions. I’ve never understood the concept of boredom. While for some it is regarded as an unavoidable reality, I seem to teeter toward an intolerance of it. And, as a person who seeks compassion, I know that condescension besmirches my soul. We are all different, wired as we are by our respective predispositions, the environment we’re birthed into, as well as all future pit stops and destinations. This word ramble on the matter of boredom reminds me of journaling back in the seventies, e.g., when I took an Introduction to Philosophy course… Were I enrolled in said class today, all of the above pros would likely be entered into the journal. Now, as then, I would not necessarily reach any conclusions; but I’d do a spectacular job of contemplating…the contemplation!

My Brother Has Covid 12/20/20

Dean in the summer sun with Felix the prison dog.

Well, I got the COVID call today from my brother Dean, who tested positive on Friday December 18th and was subsequently transferred from OSP to the Salem Hospital. So, the good news is that he was able to call on the phone (no ventilator), is now receiving what I call continuity of care, and is in a room to himself. The bad news, besides the fact that COVID is scary (for those who believe that science and facts exist), is that his heart is very erratic. And even though I had been assured earlier this year that someone in the Dept of Corrections would inform me of an emergency, I was not notified.

Once I got off the phone with him, I fully anticipated being able to connect with a doctor or nurse. Dean was pretty foggy (on meds) and could not recall his new doctor’s name, someone in the background was telling him he could not share his room number, and I heard medical equipment of some sort making beeping noises…and was worried about the conversation elevating his heart rate. Meanwhile, back to the hospital switchboard…

The nice lady said I needed to be routed to Security, which made sense since my brother is an inmate. Security could not tell me squat and said I’d need to contact the facility from which my brother came. I mentioned OSP; but, he had no idea who to ask for at said prison. What is curious is that he asked me my brother’s name, but then later said he could not even confirm if  my brother was there. I wondered to myself if his response would have been different if the inmate had passed.

I phoned the switchboard lady again, to let her know that nothing comforting comes from a transfer to Security, but that I knew it wasn’t her fault. And I proceeded to babble on for awhile, essentially processing my sad rage. Her patient listening ear told me I was not the first distressed family member she’d encountered. I told her I’d eventually start navigating the OSP phone system. 

But first, I decided to call both of my familiar go-to medical folks at OSP, leaving messages in which I sought to be calm and not blame any ONE for the dreadfully disappointing absence of a call from prison staff to me.

A bit of irony in all of this is how much I was focused on inmate medical files last Friday, as I learned about how behind the times the Oregon Department of Corrections is when it comes to electronic record keeping. All that time chatting with an OSP staff person who had promoted better records technology years ago. Yet on that same day my brother is transported to the hospital, and I am clueless. 

In retrospect, I can imagine getting word IF a certain doctor or nurse just happened to have the bulging paper file in front of them on Friday, and IF they happened to see whatever note was supposedly left with my name on it…or the forms confirming that I have permission to discuss any of Dean’s medical issues…or the advance directive with my name on it.

Dean has worked extremely hard to keep away from COVID, especially since his 2-wk/23-hrs-a-day quarantine lockdown in early April. But, alas, it has arrived…

Very sad…I will dig for more info tomorrow.

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