Chee!! Chee!! Chee!!Posted: February 5, 2013
When my Mom was in the hospital, she did have her own, albeit, tiny (in the beginning) room. A hospital recliner, 3 plastic chairs for visitors, and very little standing room.
Towards the end of her stay, her very nice nurse was able to get her moved to a room on the end that was twice the size, had a couch for visitors, and a flat screen TV that did not make all the people look orange. (Mom and I watched the inauguration on her first rooms tiny, shitty TV, and we decided that even the Obama’s looked orange.)
While she was in this first room she had several different neighbors. The first of which, my Mom nicknamed “The Moaner.” This guy was loud. We kept Mom’s door shut all the time, not only for privacy, but because The Moaner was so loud.
The funny thing was he would be moaning about how he wanted pain meds, and then immediately after he would say he wanted to leave the hospital. He yelled at the nurses and aids. He moaned incessantly, even through the night. Which meant that my Mom did not get much sleep while he was there.
I hadn’t really heard the moaner too much. I don’t know if he was asleep while I had been visiting up until that point, or what, but I really hadn’t heard much. Then he started his moaning on the Monday that we were waiting for the results of the pathology report. I finally understood why it was so frustrating having her room next door to this man.
Reminded me of the Chee Chee lady, I said something to my Mom about it, she totally cracked up laughing, and told me that my sister had said the same exact thing the day before.
So here is the story of the Chee Chee lady.
My Dad’s mom, my grandmother, was a drunk. It’s no secret, I’ve talked about it a few times on here before. Ultimately, she ended up with Wet Brain, or Alzheimer’s Disease, or possibly both. More than likely it was Wet Brain. It had finally gotten to the point that she could not live alone any longer. She had not driven in years, my parents took her car away after a car accident, so that she wouldn’t get into an accident and kill someone or herself. My Mom did her shopping, and some cleaning for her after they took the car away. They took her checkbook as well, but would leave her some spending money each week.
She befriended a cab driver who would take her to the liquor store to go buy booze.
Shortly after my parents figured this out, and she had fallen and gotten stuck in-between the chair and footrest of her recliner and was actually stuck there for a few days, they decided it was time to put her in a nursing home.
We would go visit her at the nursing home. She almost never knew who we were. She would call me by my cousin’s name, call my Dad by my Uncle’s name, and sometimes she would remember who my sister was, she’d call her by her nickname, “Toad.” She almost always remembered my Mom. (This is a tad bit funny since there was no love between the two of them. Apparently even people who have drank themselves stupid can remember who they don’t like. Believe me, my Mom’s feeling were not hurt.)
My grandmother had a roommate at the nursing home. She was also completely off her rocker.
She would sit in her bed and scream, “CHEE! CHEE! CHEE! CHEE! CHEE!….” Over and over again, usually rocking back and forth in her bed, hands over her ears. My sister and I were quite disturbed by it. Our parents would try to ignore it. Sometimes a nurse would come and take her out of the room if they knew we were there visiting.
One day, while we were visiting, the Chee Chee lady started her screaming, (or Cheeing, for lack of a better word) and my grandmother started screaming back at her. I don’t remember what was said, but I do remember that for the rest of that visit the Chee Chee lady was quiet.