Three Hots and a Cot

I hear the train a-comin', it's rollin' round the bend.
And I ain't seen the sunshine since, I don't know when.
I'm stuck in Folsom prison and time keeps draggin' on.
But that train keeps on rolling--on down to San Antone.

—Johnny Cash, Folsom Prison Blues

The stellar epiphany I had while staying in the adult medical observation unit was blindingly simple. Should a fire break out in the professional services building, which houses the facility, my evacuation was completely uncertain. I am, in fact, unable to walk.

What exactly would my exit from the second floor, third world, urban, medical facility look like? Would the staff help? Where was my priority among patients? Women and children first? I wasn't told, nor were any fire drills conducted during my six day stay. They tell me Fairfax Hospital is the third busiest hospital in the United States…I doubt that, but I'll grant them that they are a busy hospital, a campus in fact, with many services. I'll also grant them a new name, for movie rights in case my story gets picked up by Hollywood and Brad Pitt is called in to play my character. I will call this medical center, Fairfax Abysmal.

As I laid on my cot, in reality a very expensive hospital bed--with way too many controls--and considered evacuation scenarios, for what might happen if a fire were to break out in my building, I considered other disasters that might force evacuation of the second floor. The urban disasters such as tsunamis, hurricanes, earthquakes and of course the zombie apocalypse. Shades of the ZA quickly sweep forward through my mind. I try to suppress them with a laugh, albeit a nervous silent chuckle. Perhaps being disemboweled and eaten by zombies would be preferable to burning alive in a conflagration. Would I die quicker? It would be painful. I hadn't considered this end before. Since my disabled body would already be laying prone at roughly zombie buffet level, I think I would prefer to die by food then die by fire. I would rather be eaten; I am on some pretty good painkillers. The truth about being eaten alive, however slowly crept in. Facing the reality of my condition, it is far more likely that if a fire breaks out, I would be burned alive, or even a tsunami hitting 200 miles inland caused an asteroid strike in the Atlantic Ocean, is far more likely to actually being eaten by zombies, I would drown. In all cases, I must consider the truth. My left leg no longer works as designed. I can no longer walk.

I left Fairfax Abysmal today for reasons I will get into. My destination puts me in Mt Vernon Virginia, in an old hospital converted into a rehabilitation center for people who can't walk or have sustained other disabilities where they need to relearn basic human tasks, such as walking and eating. Known by a number of names, such as physical therapy, occupational therapy, and speech therapy, this is the facility where societal skill leveling tasks place. Personally, coping mechanisms, tell me I don't have to relearn any stills. I can eat, I can talk, and I certainly don't have to relearn how to walk. I was hiking in the Sierra Nevada Mountains just a few weeks ago. I was playing soccer a week before I lost my ability to walk. Yet here I am, at a rehab center, safely in my bed, or am I?

Currently, Im awaiting an inspection of my body to make sure the transportation team, who moved me from Fairfax Abysmal to this facility, didn't drop me on my head…or abuse me on the way over. Don't they do body searches in prison? Many of the patients here at Mt Vernon are elderly, with no defenders on their side. Abuse must happen, sadly, more than I want to know.

But as I lay here in this older facility which I now call Folsom Correctional Prison…chances of a fire are certainly much higher here than they were in the modern Fairfax Abysmal unit. I'm going to push those thoughts out of my mind for a brief second because I am worried about my elderly roommate…yes we are two to a room here at the Folsom Correctional (life skills training). I'm in Bed 1, he is in Bed 2.

I haven't met him yet other than waving to him each time he gets up, nurse assisted, and walks to the bathroom with his cane and his diaper showing beneath his t-shirt. He uses a cane to walk but, at least he can walk. I cannot walk. But he wears a diaper, I fortunately don't need that safeguard. As I lay in bed I'm perfectly capable of placing the urinal bottle in the proper position for the proper reason, for the proper amount of time. Mistakes do happen with the bottle, maybe I'll talk about those later. But what's important is at this moment my roommate can indeed walk…he can get out of bed even though he's not supposed to. He is, what they call in the vernacular, a falling risk. Since he can walk he always tries to get out of bed and his alarm goes off…I've been here only an hour and his alarm has gone off four times. I have an alarm on my bed too, but I don't try to get up. I actually know I can't walk. It's a painful enterprise to even try.

After his alarm goes off, the nurses and techs come in to tell him he can't get out of bed. But then they also walk him into the bathroom because that’s the reason he got out of bed. I wave as he goes by. He waves back. That's our relationship so far.

If there's a fire in the building, and he has his wits about him, he can evacuate. It will not be interesting to learn how often he gets up during the night to show everyone he can walk…or to go pee. But what happens if he gets up in the middle of the night and the nurses don't show up…and he forgets his cane, and he heads for the bathroom without the nurse. If I'm awake I'm sure he will wave to me on his way by…but for now he's a falling risk. Should I help him? I cannot walk. I can't help. That option is off the table. But I could inform the nursing station that he needs help. What if he gets into trouble before the nurses come and I can't render resistance? If I push through the excruciating pain to move, the absolute best I could do is get to the end of the bed…and sit there. Could I save him from a sitting position if he fell close to me. Not likely. Suddenly not being able to save my new roommate from a fall worries me more than being burned alive...or being eaten by zombies.