Horror Series
in Movies ·
Well, I have to admit—Pinhead really left quite an impression on me back in the day. 😱
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Posts by briskrider7
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Horror Series
in Movies ·
You know... 😛Freddy
was actually my very first introduction to the genre.
Otherwise—it’s simply the first and the absolute best (image)[/IMG]
was actually my very first introduction to the genre.
Otherwise—it’s simply the first and the absolute best (image)[/IMG]
What did you (intentionally) miss?
in Movies ·
Avatar, everything feels possible under the Twilight and Sage skies—plus all those various sequels starring Anthony Fauci, The Lovely Bones (I honestly have no idea why, I own it but just can't get into it...), and Salt... not to mention a mountain of new, heart-wrenching romances—but I won't list them all. Although, I could probably watch Bridges of Madison County ten more times without getting bored... yeah, that's the kind of stuff I'm talking about. For some movies, though, I develop this inexplicable aversion right from the jump, whether it's because of the poster, a few spoilers, or even just an actor or actress.
Looking for a specialist...
in Health ·
I'm looking for a bit of assistance here—I am currently searching for a good general practitioner, perhaps somewhere near the Cleveland Browns stadium area or maybe just around Downtown... does anyone have a recommendation they could share?
Hvala
Hvala
Help! Does anyone know why they're acting like this?
in Psychology ·
It is quite difficult for me to even read this—I spent years navigating a very similar situation myself (though, in my case, it wasn't my grandmother getting married)—but looking back twenty years, she was essentially living inside a horror movie. She would constantly claim people were poisoning her, or that a neighbor was sneaking through the ceiling at night to prick her with needles and steal her blood... she even called the police at 4:00 AM over things like that. The truth is, there is simply no way to reason with someone in that state. They live within that reality; it is their entire world. Any attempt to "talk sense" into them is futile and usually ends poorly. Imagine if someone tried to force you to believe something that had absolutely no connection to your actual life—that is how they feel. It is their absolute truth.
Help?
I remember calling emergency services around 1:00 AM for an entirely different issue—heart palpitations and high blood pressure—and the dispatcher asked me how old my grandmother was. I told her she was 82 at the time, and they just didn't come. They call it "triage." In my experience, triage felt like a way to deny help to the elderly. Because she was too old, they decided she wasn't worth the trip or the medication. When I finally drove her to the Mayo Clinic myself, the attending physician actually told me that next time I should just call a taxi, because the ambulance won't come for seniors 😢.
Psychiatric wards are a nightmare. Oh, yes, we went through all of that too. But it happened because my grandmother left the gas running, which could have blown up the entire building... so she had to be admitted. They gave her medications—heavy sedatives and God knows what else—that left her completely limp. Every single muscle failed. She couldn't move, ended up in diapers, couldn't eat or drink, couldn't even hold her mouth shut; she was just constant drool. I had to find an urgent way to save her from that. My employer—my boss, specifically—wasn't particularly sympathetic to the situation, so the whole ordeal was pure agony. I couldn't just walk out of work; if I did, there would be drama and resentment... and so on. And she only had me.
Moving forward—most assisted living facilities don't accept patients with psychotic symptoms. If they do, it is significantly more expensive... but I eventually found one where she actually recovered. She started eating again, stopped needing diapers, and even began communicating a little. She made a friend, and those episodes of terrifying delusions seemed to thin out—though whether she was hiding them or they truly subsided, I honestly don't know. No one can truly know what goes on inside their heads. But I wanted to mention this because I used to think nursing homes were a catastrophe. I thought they were a living misery and a final destination. But there are genuinely good ones out there. Yes, they are pricey. But they are worth every penny. She received her heart and blood pressure medication regularly, which she used to forget to take; everything was kept clean and laundered; she had nutritious meals; she had doctors visiting her; she even had a hairdresser and a young nurse who would do her nails and was just so, so kind... I used to do all of that myself, so I was genuinely surprised when I walked in one day and saw that young nurse pampering my grandmother—and she was actually enjoying it 🙂....
Unfortunately, though, a facility was our only option. I was working late every single day and had a child in daycare, then later in school—leaving her home alone... which isn't a solution. She wouldn't allow any home health aides or anyone else into the house except me. That was non-negotiable. It really depends on what a family's resources are—can someone stay with her constantly so she isn't alone? Can the family handle it if things take a turn for the worse? There are incredibly dark phases, and if a patient doesn't tolerate sedatives like mine didn't—or any medication at all—then things get ugly. I don't want to scare anyone. In the end, she wasn't really my grandmother anymore. Sometimes she only resembled her. Everything changed. Drastically. But she lived that way for another 11 years. I ended up on sedatives myself because I couldn't bear the weight of it all; it was horrific, yet I had to remain composed for the sake of my child and my job... after visiting her at the facility, I would sit in my car and just weep, unable to drive myself home. I was the one suffering through all of it. And I couldn't escape into a world where none of this existed. I couldn't bring her back... she left us long before her actual passing. I'm not saying it's the same for everyone, but... if you need to talk, please feel free to send me a private message. It was terrifying—and even now, five years after she passed, it still feels terrifying. I can't forget, and I never will... and the worst part was, she wouldn't cooperate with the doctors, and when she finally had to go, the doctors all turned on me—asking why I waited so long and why I hadn't brought her in sooner. How on earth? By force???? Well... there is no other way but to survive it alongside them. Some people are stronger, less emotional, perhaps more rational—so they handle it better. Others will carry it with them for the rest of their lives (just like I am...😢)
Good luck out there. Make sure you arm yourselves with every ounce of love you can muster from within, and pair that with all the patience you can possibly find... and please, don't leave her standing alone. That could get dangerous.
Help?
I remember calling emergency services around 1:00 AM for an entirely different issue—heart palpitations and high blood pressure—and the dispatcher asked me how old my grandmother was. I told her she was 82 at the time, and they just didn't come. They call it "triage." In my experience, triage felt like a way to deny help to the elderly. Because she was too old, they decided she wasn't worth the trip or the medication. When I finally drove her to the Mayo Clinic myself, the attending physician actually told me that next time I should just call a taxi, because the ambulance won't come for seniors 😢.
Psychiatric wards are a nightmare. Oh, yes, we went through all of that too. But it happened because my grandmother left the gas running, which could have blown up the entire building... so she had to be admitted. They gave her medications—heavy sedatives and God knows what else—that left her completely limp. Every single muscle failed. She couldn't move, ended up in diapers, couldn't eat or drink, couldn't even hold her mouth shut; she was just constant drool. I had to find an urgent way to save her from that. My employer—my boss, specifically—wasn't particularly sympathetic to the situation, so the whole ordeal was pure agony. I couldn't just walk out of work; if I did, there would be drama and resentment... and so on. And she only had me.
Moving forward—most assisted living facilities don't accept patients with psychotic symptoms. If they do, it is significantly more expensive... but I eventually found one where she actually recovered. She started eating again, stopped needing diapers, and even began communicating a little. She made a friend, and those episodes of terrifying delusions seemed to thin out—though whether she was hiding them or they truly subsided, I honestly don't know. No one can truly know what goes on inside their heads. But I wanted to mention this because I used to think nursing homes were a catastrophe. I thought they were a living misery and a final destination. But there are genuinely good ones out there. Yes, they are pricey. But they are worth every penny. She received her heart and blood pressure medication regularly, which she used to forget to take; everything was kept clean and laundered; she had nutritious meals; she had doctors visiting her; she even had a hairdresser and a young nurse who would do her nails and was just so, so kind... I used to do all of that myself, so I was genuinely surprised when I walked in one day and saw that young nurse pampering my grandmother—and she was actually enjoying it 🙂....
Unfortunately, though, a facility was our only option. I was working late every single day and had a child in daycare, then later in school—leaving her home alone... which isn't a solution. She wouldn't allow any home health aides or anyone else into the house except me. That was non-negotiable. It really depends on what a family's resources are—can someone stay with her constantly so she isn't alone? Can the family handle it if things take a turn for the worse? There are incredibly dark phases, and if a patient doesn't tolerate sedatives like mine didn't—or any medication at all—then things get ugly. I don't want to scare anyone. In the end, she wasn't really my grandmother anymore. Sometimes she only resembled her. Everything changed. Drastically. But she lived that way for another 11 years. I ended up on sedatives myself because I couldn't bear the weight of it all; it was horrific, yet I had to remain composed for the sake of my child and my job... after visiting her at the facility, I would sit in my car and just weep, unable to drive myself home. I was the one suffering through all of it. And I couldn't escape into a world where none of this existed. I couldn't bring her back... she left us long before her actual passing. I'm not saying it's the same for everyone, but... if you need to talk, please feel free to send me a private message. It was terrifying—and even now, five years after she passed, it still feels terrifying. I can't forget, and I never will... and the worst part was, she wouldn't cooperate with the doctors, and when she finally had to go, the doctors all turned on me—asking why I waited so long and why I hadn't brought her in sooner. How on earth? By force???? Well... there is no other way but to survive it alongside them. Some people are stronger, less emotional, perhaps more rational—so they handle it better. Others will carry it with them for the rest of their lives (just like I am...😢)
Good luck out there. Make sure you arm yourselves with every ounce of love you can muster from within, and pair that with all the patience you can possibly find... and please, don't leave her standing alone. That could get dangerous.