2023 Bermuda Cruise - Day 4 (Port Day)

Wednesday, November 22, 2023.

The day started with the crowing of a rooster. No, there were no live chickens onboard the ship. Instead, it was my alarm trying to wake us up early enough for RQS to make it to the ship’s infirmary while they had clinic hours.  Like yesterday, the sky was cloudy when we awoke, but neither of us wanted to get moving. Both of us heard my phone’s obnoxious alarm, and it roused both of us as intended. Getting showered and dressed was hard for RQS, but she was out the door before me, as I was still dressing while she hobbled to the clinic.

When I arrived at the clinic, RQS was still filling out paperwork prior to being treated. Shortly afterward, RQS was brought into the examination room while I waited outside. The waiting area was sterile in more than one sense. In this case, all the furnishings were in the same color scheme as the walls - a very light beige. The floor was a light creamsickle orange, and the seats were a non-descript shade of gray. About the only things that could be said to stand out in this area were the pictures on the walls and the bright red biohazard bucket. This is where I waited, when I would have preferred to stay in our cabin until called for.

RQS came out several hundred dollars lighter than when she entered the clinic, with some pain killer pills, instructions to stay off her feet, and to use an ice pack on her ankle. This would not be a pleasant way for her to spend time on the ship. And then, ship security arrived to record our accounts of the embarkation day incident. If we’re lucky, we might be able to use a copy of the security investigation and the medical bill to have RQS’s medical expenses reimbursed by our travel insurance company.

And then we were off to have breakfast. Breakfast at O’Sheehan’s, a casual dining area on the ship, was mediocre, as both service and food quality was lacking.  Next time we'd decide to have breakfast on the ship, it would be at one of the other complimentary dining rooms, where they will deliver all components of a meal in a timely manner.

While RQS was relaxing in our cabin, I went to the buffet looking for some cookies.  In the process of heading to the buffet, I met someone with whom I struck up a conversation. By the time our chat was over, the buffet was setting up for lunch. And this gave me an opportunity to bring RQS something to eat. But I found no cookies! WHERE ARE THE COOKIES ON THIS SHIP???? On the way back to the cabin, an attendant was delivering cookies to several cabins, and if by magic (with a friendly ask of the attendant), RQS now had both the cookies she asked for and her lunch.

After lunch, I decided to and take a long walk. One of the stops I made along the way was a shop in the Clocktower mall to buy some jewelry for myself (when presenting as Marian). I figure that it will go well with the blue dresses I enjoy wearing. (I’m making a note to take care of some purchases I need to make when I get home.) While out, I checked my email, and found that there were a couple of messages of unknown origin that I have to check out. The first was likely a scam, as I know no one in a foreign country that I’d want to talk to. The second was a person who had my name who claimed to be from the Social Security office. This is one call that I must be careful to fully verify its origin before giving out any information - including that which I could consider harmless. (Let’s see if there is some snail mail in my box when I get home, as I believe that SSA uses that to establish first contact.) I don’t want to have a scammer spoof my identity before I am even able to collect my first SS payment.

Near the far end of my walk, I passed by the local prison. That was one place where I decided NOT to stop for a rest. A few minutes later, I passed by Pulpit Rock (no, I don’t have a picture of it) where I was able to take a few more photos. At that point, I decided to return to the ship, as it was getting late and I wanted to be back onboard before the sun went down. 

On the whole, it was not a day that I would have planned to have. But it was productive, as I got in more walking than I usually do in a typical November week.

Stone walls don't a prison make, nor iron bars a cage

As we age, we begin to see many of our friends enter assistive care facilities.  Sometimes, as in the case of XGFJ's mother, little assistance is needed to live a rewarding life.  In the case of my father, much more assistance was needed because my dad was no longer self ambulatory.  Like my father, some people prosper when in the right assistive care facility, as they can resume the socialization denied them by their former isolation.  But in the wrong facility, a social person can feel imprisoned.

When I visited Pat, I noticed how sterile and empty her new place seemed.  Save for the receptionist at the front desk, the place was devoid of people.  There was a small area to the right of the reception desk where kids could play, but I wondered - how many people are bringing very young kids to see their elders in nursing homes these days?  I rarely saw them when I visited my dad, and thought that this room was there more for show than anything else.

RQS and I walked to the elevator and got off on the 3rd floor. I was surprised at how quiet this place was.  Looking to my left, I saw another reception desk in front of us, this one being empty.  In another nursing home, or a hospital, it would be staffed by nurses in charge of patient care.  In this place, it looked like it was set up for a different kind of care facility, but left unused as it wasn't apparently needed to service the patients currently housed in this building. So, we walked down the aisle to Pat's room, knocked on the door, and were greeted warmly.

Pat and her daughter visited several care facilities before choosing this one.  It must have been heart wrenching for her to dispose of many of the things she accumulated over the years.  There was almost nothing from her old life present in the room.  The room was almost as sterile as the hall outside. And this said that this room was not "Home" for Pat.  It was simply a place to stay.

Unlike my dad's nursing home, Pat's place didn't seem to have the on-site services that my dad's place had.  For a place doing some of its business as a memory care center, I found it amazing how few safeguards were there to keep memory care patients from wandering off site.  People like Pat were tasked to find their own transportation to off-site doctors - and possibly get dropped off at the wrong sites with no one to help them get where they need to go.  Yet, they are prohibited from leaving the facility's grounds - even for a healthy walk.  Go figure.

The economics of nursing homes in the United States appalls me.  Like our prisons, many are places which have evolved to warehouse people who have no economic value to the larger society.  (I will not go into prison economics here, save that the "for profit" sector has very little incentive to treat inmates with the full respect that most humans deserve - something it has in common with nursing homes.)  As America ages, "for profit" nursing homes have sprung up, many with the goal of raking in as many Medicare dollars as is possible.  Service quality is not a major factor.  If it was, I'd see more evidence of "enrichment activities" than I did in Pat's facility.

Pat noted several things I won't mention here.  Let's say that one has to take what she said with a grain of salt - even if what she said rang true in my ears.  Without people to socialize with, Pat is now a lonely person with few ways of dealing with her feelings. In short, this place is a prison for her, a cage without bars.