My Dad’s #journal recounts the daily trials and tribulations in Rm 207. #residentialcare. PART 2

Found journal.

 Roar Thorsen recounts the daily trials and tribulations in Room 207 and the halls of a residential care facility.


Roar had a debilitating stroke on September 2005.

On February 14, 2007, he moved into room 207.

See PART 1


Next candidate for room.  He is wearing the green scrub uniform everyday.  Does not change often.  Dr. A.  (“ex” doctor) who said he practiced in Stockholm and Vancouver… Long grey hair (horsetail).  Only three teeth.  Green old “uniform” (scrub) from previous week.  It took a long time to get used to this man, snoring, pooing, farting, pooing, coughing, arguing, stealing.  He always comes into room at 2 AM (1 AM) and puts his lights on.  I ask him every time to keep his light down.  He walks with a walker and a cane, shoes loose, untied which makes them slap slap slap.  I can hear him far away.  He is smelly.  Never goes to the shower room.  His pants are soiled in the lower back.

If he was a doctor, I was the King of Norway.

A.’s room is a big mess.  A.’s room sometimes frequently is ransacked by the nurses.  Cutlery, f(?), stolen plates, figurines also food and juices.  One time they found in the nighttable a large bottle which made the girls nurses very upset.  (Only certain persons are allowed to have access to liquor (like me).

Only A. is forbidden to touch this, due to his illness, having failing kidneys.  Every third day of the week, he is taken by the ambulance to the hospital for dialysis, which is cleaning the blood through a machine.  His left arm is full of large lumps from removing blood and injection again the same for cleaning the blood.

Many times he is irritated and cussing, swearing, making accusations about people stealing “his things,” which he stole himself from the dining room.

Because of his condition, there is no use to argue with him even if he gives nurses hell most days of the week.  During treatment days (3/week) sometimes he comes back around 1 AM after visiting sis brother in Surrey.  At such times he comes back drunk, which makes the head nurse furious.  “This is unacceptable.”  After such days, he sleeps to the next morning to 10 AM or almost the whole day.

A. one day coming back from the hospital, he looked at his room.  “Where are my plates?   Who stole my plates?  This is straight stealing.”  A. stole those plates in the first place.

A. never reads the papers I give him.  He just puts them in his pile of stuff.  He sits all day long at his table in the dining room eating, watching the big screen TV, not talking… For friendship I have given A. several photos I took of him.  They are still in his drawer.  No one to show them to?  

Stay tuned for Part 3!

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