It is important to keep an eye on stock-levels of pills.
And it is important to keep the pills out of sight and out of mind as far as the cared-for is concerned.
It is just as important to organise pills in boxes, for daily distribution.
You don't want to run out of pills.
And you don't want to hand out too few/too many.
You don't want the cared-for popping those pills like, well, pills without supervision.
But there is another main danger. We're not talking about underdosing or overdosing here.
Pills in plastic trays are fine. But those trays are always backed by shiny metal foil. The worst metal foil. A guillotine blade in disguise. Today I popped a pill out and thought I scratched myself on the foil.
No.
I was fine. Until I dipped my hand in warm water later, and suffered delayed-action amputation. My entire arm fell off, and pumped blood up the walls. I am typing this with my tongue.
Every week I gather pills from trays and pop them into the daily boxes. But I keep two other pills separate as they are taken at different times.
Instead of slipping those pills into boxes, I put them where they are needed that day. So my risk from evil foil is a weekly risk and also a daily risk.
For weeks on end, I'll dodge these silver bullets. Scythes of doom. Then...slice.
Today was a bit different, as I felt the cut as usual...but it didn't break into bleeding until I hit the water later. The worst of these cuts sends blood spraying across the room, through the windows, and into the street.
But this time I faced delayed-action amputation. It's a good thing for a bad thing to happen and to feel you got away with it. Until warm water laughs at you and you realise a bad thing happened anyway.
Right on the joint, too. Fucking typical.
Well, I grabbed a sponge the size of a small country and I mopped up the worst of the deluge. Then I stuck my arm back on using superglue and an unlucky rabbit's foot. If you think the rabbit is lucky, remember it wasn't that lucky - someone caught it and turned it into a trinket.
I face danger daily. The stairs are dangerous. A gas appliance is dangerous. Running out of coffee and biscuits is a danger very high on the list. The worst thing would be to recoil from the guillotine of the pill packet and bounce down the stairs to land there and die of thirst and hunger when I realise the biscuits are gone and there's no coffee to go with the lack of biscuits.
In all this time of administering pills...and I administered them before the first visit to the clinic for the cared-for's diagnosis on memory problems...I think I've had one really serious slash with blood everywhere...
And it wasn't the one I snagged today. Strange crescent cut that defies what actually happened. Not a deep slice. And not a straight one. A clean one, fortunately.
The risk is that one day I'll slash myself on pills and then head out to deal with business in town. I'll keel over in the street with one leg flying in one direction and the other leg hopping along by itself.
It'll be the invisible car that crashed into me. A mystery no one can solve until they find out...
Oh. Carer. Slashed the invisible guillotine, then, right?
Right. Delayed-action amputation. A risk of being a carer. I should've written about it sooner, but my reaction to the problem was delayed, too.
No.
I was fine. Until I dipped my hand in warm water later, and suffered delayed-action amputation. My entire arm fell off, and pumped blood up the walls. I am typing this with my tongue.
Every week I gather pills from trays and pop them into the daily boxes. But I keep two other pills separate as they are taken at different times.
Instead of slipping those pills into boxes, I put them where they are needed that day. So my risk from evil foil is a weekly risk and also a daily risk.
For weeks on end, I'll dodge these silver bullets. Scythes of doom. Then...slice.
Today was a bit different, as I felt the cut as usual...but it didn't break into bleeding until I hit the water later. The worst of these cuts sends blood spraying across the room, through the windows, and into the street.
But this time I faced delayed-action amputation. It's a good thing for a bad thing to happen and to feel you got away with it. Until warm water laughs at you and you realise a bad thing happened anyway.
Right on the joint, too. Fucking typical.
Well, I grabbed a sponge the size of a small country and I mopped up the worst of the deluge. Then I stuck my arm back on using superglue and an unlucky rabbit's foot. If you think the rabbit is lucky, remember it wasn't that lucky - someone caught it and turned it into a trinket.
I face danger daily. The stairs are dangerous. A gas appliance is dangerous. Running out of coffee and biscuits is a danger very high on the list. The worst thing would be to recoil from the guillotine of the pill packet and bounce down the stairs to land there and die of thirst and hunger when I realise the biscuits are gone and there's no coffee to go with the lack of biscuits.
In all this time of administering pills...and I administered them before the first visit to the clinic for the cared-for's diagnosis on memory problems...I think I've had one really serious slash with blood everywhere...
And it wasn't the one I snagged today. Strange crescent cut that defies what actually happened. Not a deep slice. And not a straight one. A clean one, fortunately.
The risk is that one day I'll slash myself on pills and then head out to deal with business in town. I'll keel over in the street with one leg flying in one direction and the other leg hopping along by itself.
It'll be the invisible car that crashed into me. A mystery no one can solve until they find out...
Oh. Carer. Slashed the invisible guillotine, then, right?
Right. Delayed-action amputation. A risk of being a carer. I should've written about it sooner, but my reaction to the problem was delayed, too.
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