is supercalifragilisticexpealidocious in the dictionary?

a question i wondered on my drive home as i listened to the classic song from disc two of my five cd disney set, and while wikipedia pays tribute to the word, merriam and webster have decided to continuing shunning this well known word (probably due to the lack of a definition), but have definitely admitted the word ‘woot’.  i don’t begrudge them this, because i use the word woot all the time, and they have just legitimacized by own idiocy (score!).

 update: definitely found it on dictionary.com.  and it has a definition! “a nonsense word meaning fantastic”.  yeah, that sounds about right.  this is from the “webster’s new millenium dictionary of english language”.  even better, it says the word was “popularized” on mary poppins.  popularized?  that implies it existed before mary poppins, and i’m pretty sure that was the source.  hilarious.

 also, for those who don’t know, woot stands for ‘we owned the other team’, but i’m pretty liberal with it’s use.

full-blooded

my return to the psych unit on day 1 alone has been fabulous.  i knew the patients there wouldn’t let me down.  today, the doctor and i saw a patient with a long history of schizophrenia (the usual order of the day), and before going in, i was forewarned of his history, which when we entered the room, was largely unchanged.

basically, i will quote this man, almost verbatim:

“i am a full-blooded american indian.  it is illegal to give me psychotropic drugs.  i am not mentally ill.  university hospitals proved it.  i am not mentally ill.  that’s a death sentence.  i am a full-blood iroquois.”

important to this story is that he is 0% american indian, because when he initially made this claim, it had to be researched by the courts.  instead, we find he is a full-blooded schizophrenic.

i am so happy to be back on the wards.

i told you so

no phrase could be more satisfying than the speaker and more irritating to the listener, but as i relished saying it, joseph, my boyfriend of some made up time, handled hearing it with grace.  the scenario that elicited it consisted of joseph buying two bottles of patron tequila and giving them to my brother, dubbing the ensuing party the “patron party”.  this, of course, was all done with my grudgingly given permission, which was only done because of the incessant requests. 

as you can already imagine, i was thoroughly annoyed with the whole event, but knowing that i would be, i set the plans for joseph and i to go out for the evening, only to return when the event was in full swing.  i knew if i had the opportunity to get away and spend some relaxing time out of the house, i would be able to better cope with the choas i would face when i arrived home.  that was exactly how it played out.

we had a really wonderful dinner together, which is nothing particularly new.  he and i have yet to hit that rocky patch and have only had a few potholes along the road.  some might say that it’s due to the distance, but usually that’s a reason to fight as evidenced by my previous, horrible relationship that will not be spoken of beyond vague references.  nevertheless, after our time together, we returned home knowing there would be a multitude of people there.

whenever i come home to a party, there is that instant irritation that begins with seeing other people’s cars in my driveway.  i walk inside to see people congregating in the kitchen, but there are still few people at the house yet.  we play with the dogs, play some guitar hero, and retreat to my room.  the final blow of irritation involved: 1. seeing approximately 4 tramps walk in the house  2. see several of them attempt to use my bathroom.  how did i know their sexual promiscuity?  it was based on the sole observation of being able to see the full outline of one of the girl’s butt cheeks through the huge whole in her jeans she cut out.  this wasn’t some seductive whole in the jean to show the back of the leg – this was full on ass, like whoa.  knowing most of the these girls live at home, i have to wonder how on earth they manage to leave the house like that.  my mother would have murdered me.

 the night ended with vomiting compliments of my brother and his friend brandon w., and after joseph was sure they weren’t going to die, he left me to manage the party, which consisted of me falling asleep locked in my room, with only the thought that brandon g.’s items were more valuable than mine if someone decided to steal something.

the nursing home

today was my final day on the gero-psych floor.  the morning started out with it’s usual course.  i saw the patients, went to the patient treatment meeting, then the doctor left to do his billion other commitments.  i didn’t really have anything to do, so i joined first sat down and watched tv with one of the patients.

she’s notoriously a nasty old woman, and she was.  she wouldn’t let me sit down by her at first, and only finally relented when one of the nurses told her i was their friend.  at one point a resident came by to interview her, and asked her what she was watching on tv. her reply? “i dunno, i have cataracts.” at which point, i almost burst into laughter because the whole time i thought she could actually see the television. i am sure she could see a cloudy image, but basically she was just sitting there vegetating. 

soon after they started playing bingo (how stereotypical), but again, having nothing else to do, i joined in.  this went on for approximately an hour when i decided i should at least be a little productive.  a different psychiatrist had offered for me to join him and his student (a friend of mine) to the nursing home.  i debated for a short while on venturing out with them, but ultimately i decided to join them because 1. i knew i’d be bored out of my mind playing bingo the rest of the afternoon 2. it was right by my house and i knew i could go home afterward.

my experience with nursing homes is limited to when my great grandmother stayed in a different one also near my house.  one can imagine that they’re probably depressing, and i have to say, they are.  the majority of the people are just sitting there staring into space, some because they are demented but many because they are bored.  when they have activity time, it tends to be crafts, but the crafts are the type that might entertain children.  in this nursing home, the elderly all must have a roommate, which would be a terrible change from the previous privacy of their own home. 

it makes me think how many of them have children who they loved and raised, and here is the best place they could find for their parents.  it makes me question if they actually went to this place and looked at it, or if they chose it from a menu.  i walked in and immediately noticed the bland, dull colors consisting of mauve and puce, the minimal windows, the tacky paintings, the wallpaper trim of birdhouses, furniture from the 1980s, and hospital mattresses for beds.

i can’t imagine taking care of elderly parents is easy nor inexpensive, but niether is raising children.  after witnessing the nursing home, i have to hold steady to the idea that i will never allow such a fate to befall my parents.  my mother rejected her youth to give her children everything, i could only hope to repay her, and whenever i have need help, i have always been able to count on my father to support me.  they least my brother, sister and i can do is make aging a little easy, because as my psychiatrist stated, “aging is just not fair” and he didn’t mean it in the sense of vanity.

i know not everyone is able to provide their parents the optimal environment, but i do hope that those who are able do not abdicate their responsibility to a nursing home.