Anti Social Media

I had a hard time getting out of bed this morning. Somehow I managed to work myself into a position where I couldn’t get upright. I mean I was lying on my back, and my lower spine was killing me and I couldn’t get my trunk perpendicular to the bed, even pulling on the bed rail didn’t do it.

That’s unusual but part of my experimenting with the various drugs I’m on. Last night I didn’t take the muscle relaxers or valium that I usually take at night and I was stiff as a board when I woke up.

I think it was the back relaxer that did me in.

Once I’m sitting upright on the edge of the bed I can get up and walk with the rollater no problem. There is a pendant that you are supposed to wear around your neck to call for help. Most of the time it either doesn’t work, or it takes a half hour before a blue coat arrives.

They are overworked, and it depends on whether it’s meal time or not.

They spend most of the 6 meal time sessions helping the blind and totally disabled up to the dining room.

So I usually call the front desk (another annoying press 1 for this and 2 for that) and if you press 0 too quickly it says that is incorrect, try again. The usual crap.

But then I can talk to the operator and tell her it isn’t an emergency, just need a hand getting out of bed.

And it’s always Deborah that arrives. A tall skinny black woman who starts donning blue plastic gloves whence sees me, and asks what seems to be the problem.

And I tell her I just need a hand to get upright. That I can stand on my own after that, probably.

And she pulls me up to a sitting position and I tell her to wait a second, just to make sure I can stand.

And I get up, no problem. And she says, you know your body.

I thank her and hopefully I can get through tomorrow morning without the struggle. It happens about once a week.

I think about what I’m going to write in the blog while making coffee, which I sip as I write, and the thought that came to mind is that this is unlike most social media.

It’s got no politics (there’s so much of it – and I follow it all lately) that I try to keep this focused on aging, and the Castle and all the pretty horrisdhef Extraordinaire”Mble things that go along with it.

They put out a newsletter here, a sample reads:

“Chef Extraordinaire”

“It is always a pleasure to see and hear Marion. She always has a smile, a warm greeting for residents when they are in the 14th floor dining room

“She exudes a happiness with all that she creates in the kitchen…”

Part of it is true, she does exude happiness, but as far as I can tell she can’t cook very well.

And I got to thinking about all the pictures of cute dogs and cats and how well everyone’s life is going and all the wonderful snapshots that fly by, and it struck me that I was writing a reverse social media blog.

a) Most of what happens is pretty horrible, tho I do my best to lighten it up

b) I attempt to tell the truth, warts and all; some of it is borderline, if I was writing a book that was going to be published under a pseudonym there’s a bunch of funny but disgusting things I would throw in;

c) I don’t make my life any better or any worse than it is.For example, I told you they set up Alexa in every room. remember, at least 85% of the people here have Alzheimers or dementia or both. I don’t know the difference but it is one of the things I keep meaning to look up.

So in the beginning I kept hearing someone say “hep, or Help me,” and I found out that he was two floors below me and I was hearing his pleas through the vent that opened in my kitchenette.

After three months of that, they finally moved him out. Dead or alive I don’t know.

The place is filled with the spooks who’ve died here. Yesterday, Francis the cleaning lady told me that room 905 was the worst. She said she that tons of people had died intuit room. That she still sees their ghosts, especially this one guy Art.

But she assures me that they are friendly, and can’t see her or hear her. They don’t bother her at all.

Who knows. She admits they might only be in her head, that she was close to the residents intuit room, and that they all died in their sleep.

I gave Francis, who has been here 45 years and will be turning 65 soon, some chicken I bought, that I didn’t realize was raw (I thought I could do it up in the microwave) so I gave her a package of that and some very rigid chocolate chip cookies.

She brings me a bagel and cream cheese when she goes on her coffee break and advises me not to eat anything from the dining room. Which I’m already on to.

But as I was saying, it struck me that this is the opposite of most social media, and I wondered why that was. It struck me that most of social media was just another way of boasting.

I’ve written a few sparse things about the foibles of friends and been reprimanded. They all want to look good for their close-up.

And as anyone who knows me can tell you, I’ve been shy most of my life and not open about my own foibles. I think that 20 odd years of psychotherapy let the inhibitions out.

FYI I have a warning in Safari: This webpage is using significant energy. Closing it may improve the responsiveness of your Mac.

Only thing, this is what I’m writing the blog in (WP) and if I close this page there won’t be any application running. It all started after I upgraded Safari. Probably need to find a more lightweight browser.

Published by Dave

My name is David Beckerman. I am a fine art photographer working in New York City. Or I was before I had two strokes. I now write from a Nursing Home.

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