For the past three weeks, we've been in quarantine--well, sort of, anyway. It was enough to keep us off kilter, kill plans to escape to the movies or shopping, and have the rest of the residents to fear us.
The quarantine began with a runny nose in Unit 3. (There are five units.) Others in Unit 3 developed the flu. Soon, my Unit, Unit 2, was also quarantined. We wore masks on the Unit. Those without symptoms and were independent were still allowed to smoke during smoking hours (between 7 AM to 9 PM,) but we were warned: Take off your mask before you smoke, so that you don't burst into flames (thank you, I was worried about that.) Furthermore, stay six feet away from other people, and do not go any where else in the facility.
I'll leave it to you to figure out which group I'm in. And whether I broke any of the rules.
So far, so good, right? Wrong. Staff went home. Visitors were warned but permitted to visit. For a proper quarantine, it should last for seven days.
Which all begs the question: What are the rules for a proper quarantine. Well, I don't know, but this was NOT it.
It last five days. The sixth day was free: No more masks. But the seventh day, it was back on again. Next day off, the next day back on. Then, off, back on but with a new dimension: Residents with symptoms of the trots were quarantined. Pretty soon I lost count.
My physical therapist came down to my Unit. In the room we were sitting in there were a stack of papers. N.B. I take total responsibility for snooping. My PT had NO idea. The day after the first quarantine, flu shots were scheduled.
I had symptoms, but I knew it was my allergies. They didn't believe me, even though when I went outside, the allergies would be full blown. When it rained, no symptoms at all. If I don't take care of them, a runny nose and eyes turns into full blown bronchitis with 104 degree temperature. My PCP, true to his nature, would not give me what I use twice a year when in the Berkshires. So, in the interests of my own health, I had to take matters into my own hands. 'Nuf said.
Finally, my honor was restored. Someone checked my records. I knew I had been given a 2nd pneumonia vaccine (finding them outside of the hospital is a post in itself.) What I didn't remember is that I had a flu vaccine. They discovered this just in time for the second transmittable disease.
When I was first told--by friends by the way, not staff--they explained that this quarantine was for a stomach flu. "So, what, they are going on Poop Patrol?" My friends assured me no, but I think you can see why I would suspect that.
Another amateur hour, part of Medical Clown Town at Chillcrust Nursing and Rebab Center in Flink Township.
The Decameron,written in the 14th Century, was about 10 people who fled Florence to avoid the Plague. They entertained themselves by telling 100 stories--10 people in 10 days.
The first paragraph makes the Florentine reference clear. I really could come up with my own version of the Decameron, b/c so many people used this for their advantage and disadvantage. It affected all residents here. That's where the truly funny stories are.
Before beginning the story-telling sessions, the ten young Florentines, referred to as the Brigata,[1] gather at the Basilica di Santa Maria Novella and together decide to escape Black Death by leaving the city to stay in a villa in the countryside for the next two weeks. Each agrees to tell one story each day for ten days. The stories are told in the garden of the first villa that the company stays at, which (although fictional) is located a few miles outside the city.
Under the rule of Pampinea, the first day of story-telling is open topic. Although there is no assigned theme of the tales this first day, six deal with one person censuring another and four are satires of the Catholic Church.
So what does the 14th century story have to do with our quarantine? They are exact opposites. In the story, 10 people quarantine themselves by getting out of Dodge, and thus saved themselves from the Black Death. Here at Chillcrust Valley, the quarantine left, or more accurately, was improperly administered. This left not only the residents in danger. If it were the Black Death, who knows how many people would be infected by now. I'd take the 14th century conditions any day compared to the inefficiency of this, rather these, multiple quarantines. (I began to think they were tossing a coin every day!)
A tremendous amount of literature, movies and other creative arts are dedicated to the disabled and the chronically ill. Think of Robin Cook and the ethical questions his mysteries raised, such as in Acceptable Risk. My Left Foot, the book and the movie, inspired me to create a slide show depicting my Right Foot, as it's become deformed.
Albert Camus' novel, the
Plague, is easier to read, by no means less compelling. It's central character is a doctor, and the stories are about his interactions with his patients, and issues of humanism. I'd love to sprinkle some reviews about how we are depicted in popular culture.
Any other suggestions about literature or the arts regarding illness, disability or pain? I'd like to put a list up, but you are more than welcome to review any creative effort. Current authors, artists, and movie buffs, feel free to send in a post with your contact information. I have a pile of books at home, but won't have time to read them, or retrieve them.
Thanks to Victor for suggesting the title.