The End of a Screaming Era

Screaming Mimi soon wore out her welcome. As if the constant berating and belittling and screaming were not enough, she snagged any person who walking into our room and bade them to do her bidding. She had the Bosnian food service lady helping her find a way to wash her face. She tried to waylay my RN, who made a quick getaway by saying, "I'll tell YOUR RN." She almost ran from the room as Screaming Mimi sneered, "SURE you will! You always leave! Nobody ever helps me!" Visits to check on Screaming Mimi grew fewer and briefer. Which also meant visits to ME grew fewer.

I was fairly self-sufficient. The staff had taught me to fend for myself. I'm surprised they didn't have me helping Screaming Mimi. I was the Tattoo to their Mr. Roarke. The Short Round to their Indiana Jones. The Ho-Jon to their Hawkeye Pierce. They taught me to turn off my pulse-ox machine before unplugging to get out of bed, so the alarm didn't go off. And how to turn it back on and adjust the volume so it didn't beep. I asked for very little. In fact, on shift change, one of the RNs told the new one, "This is Mrs. Thevictorian. She's a gem." Indeed. Compared to the raw ore in the bed beside me.

A new doctor came to attend Screaming Mimi, since the pulmonologist refused to listen to her rants. He even stayed for 30 minutes and helped the RN and two patient care technicians (one of whom was Bryce, her favorite fair-haired golden boy) change the dressings on her pressure sores while Mimi screamed that they were killing her. I think her exact quote was, "WHY DON'T YOU JUST STICK A KNIFE IN MY HEART?" The staff was good at tuning her out. The new doctor was a glutton for punishment. "We need a way to admit her. She's only in for observation. I think this one is infected. It is oozing. We're admitting her." I could feel the spirit drain out of the staff at that pronouncement. After all that effort, new sheets for the third time that day, a clean gown, and two spoons for her morning coffee, Screaming Mimi showed her thanks by hollering as they left the room.

"We'll be back. Use the call button if you need us."

"YOU WON'T BE BACK! NOBODY COMES BACK! YOU ALL GO OUT TO THE MOVIES, OUT TO LUNCH. COME BACK HERE!"

Bryce stuck his head around the curtain. "Sorry about that. Can I get anything for you?"

"You are SO good at your job! I don't know how you do it. You're her favorite. No, I don't need anything."

"Oh, I used to work in a psych ward. A guy threw a chair through the window one day. You get used to it."

Bryce got a call on his collar radio. He was quite busy that day. Somebody kept coming unhooked from their heart telemetry dealybobber, he had an old guy with diarrhea who needed frequent bed changes, patient switches that other care technicians asked for, and Screaming Mimi.

Screaming Mimi decided that she needed to call her husband. "HELP! HELP!" It took a few minutes for the villagers to come see what new wolf Mimi was crying about. "I want to make a call." Never mind that Bryce had already showed her how to dial an outside number on her phone. She wanted the RN to do it for her.

"Okay. I have the phone. What number do you want me to dial?"

"ONE SIX SEVEN."

"Uh...that doesn't sound like the right number. Who are you trying to call? Your husband? I'll go check your records to find that number for you."

"NO! COME BACK! YOU'LL NEVER COME BACK!" Not if she was smart, she wouldn't. Mimi Screamed for help again. Bryce returned.

"What can I do for you?"

"I NEED TO USE THE BATHROOM!"

"No, you can't go to the bathroom. Here. I'll get your potty. Now, let me get your legs over the edge so I can help you out of bed."

"DON'T TOUCH UNDER MY ARMS!"

"I'm not. I'm using this gadget, like last time. It goes around your waist so I can lift you. Ready?"

"OWWW! OWWW!"

Another patient care technician came in to see what was wrong. Bryce got Mimi on the potty. "I WANT TO MAKE A PHONE CALL!"

"Here. Here's your phone. Dial 9 to get out. I'll be back when you're done. Use the call button."

"NO! YOU NEVER COME BACK!"

"I'll be back. But right now we're all going to Rome and Paris and London. Call me when you're done." Screaming Mimi was so taken aback by his humor concerning her earlier claims that she shut up. I heard her fiddling with the phone. And I heard Hick out in the hall. He was waiting for her to get off the pot. And I heard another voice. It was Screaming Mimi's husband!

Mr. Mimi came in and told Mimi he had brought her a few things. She had her back to him on the pot, and talked to him like he was on the phone. A crafty one, that Mimi. The staffer that brought him in said, "No, he's right here. Look. It's your husband. He came to visit." Well. That changed everything. Mimi started right in screaming at him for having her brought to the hospital. I had to feel sorry for the old guy.

"Maybe they can take care of you better than I can. They'll make you better. I'm sorry. I tried. Can I get you anything?"

"YOU CAN GET ME OUT OF HERE! THIS PLACE IS A SHITHOLE! TAKE ME HOME!"

"Now don't start. You're better off here right now. I can't do it." Mimi carried on with her screaming. Finally, Mr. Mimi said, "I have to run down to the car. I left my cell phone in there. John is supposed to be getting in today. I don't want to miss his call." He left the room, as Mimi screamed away. Bryce came in to check on the hubbub and saw that Mimi had finally done her business on the pot. She demanded a new gown.

"I don't think you need one. That's just a tiny spot. It's not pee. It's a little drop of coffee you spilled with your spoon. It's okay for now. I have another patient waiting on me."

Hick came back in. My RN came in and asked if I'd seen the doctor. I told her that he had said two hours ago that I could go home. She couldn't find it in the records, and went to call him. Physical Therapy came to make me take a walk around the nurses' station and lay down in bed unassisted. I passed the criteria on oxygen levels to go home. So all we had to do was hurry up and wait. Hick filled me in that Mr. Mimi went out in the hall and said, "I have my cell phone. I just had to get out of there. I don't know how your wife has survived being in that room with her. I can't take it anymore."

So...my orders finally came through around 3:00 on Sunday. I was parked in the hall in a wheelchair until Bryce had time to wheel me out. Mr. Mimi asked if I had gotten any sleep for the past two nights, and I told him, "About three hours." Bryce said he told his other patients, who kept asking what was up with all the screaming, that I was a saint. He pushed me past the nurses' station while the RN said I wasn't cleared yet. "Clear her!" said Bryce, without slowing down. "We'll be going out the main entrance."

Just as we passed though the double doors, halfway into the sunlight, Bryce got a call on his collar radio that I was not supposed to leave, because I had a prescription waiting for me. He told the RN to bring it down. I think she was shocked. She got even, though, because she went to the wrong entrance, and stepped out and waved the paper, and made Bryce run to get it. Whew! I was afraid my getaway had been halted.

I don't know what happened to Screaming Mimi and her poor put-upon husband. But something tells me if she's still at MoBap, the nurses just might be trying to find a way to legally give her heroin. Or at least chardonnay.