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JOIN US FOR THE HOLIDAYS!

NEW YORK CITY GAY MEN'S CHORUS

Gary Miller, Music Director

CARNEGIE HALL

WEDNESDAY DEC. 18, 1985. 8pm

Our joyous celebration of the Season!

Home for the Holidays

All NYCGMC Concerts

are signed for the

hearing impaired.

Featuring the world premieres of Samuel Adler's new celebration

of Chanukah, REDEDICATION, and Conrad Susa's ARISE AND WAKE Plus your favorite carols and songs of the Season!

Patron (First Tier Boxes) $35.00; Orchestra $22.50; Second Tier $15.00; Dress Circle $12.50; First Balcony $10.00; Rear Balcony $8.00

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your room, forget it. You will never find out who it was unless you can remember the

name.

One day two aides came in to make up my bed. They were both rapping away in Spanish. I asked them to speak in English. They both burst into gales of laughter, finding it all too hilarious for words. Aren't these aides schooled before going on the floors of Cabrini?

Another evening an aide (who would December 4, 1985 spend five minutes putting on an AIDS costume in the hallway before entering my room) told my friend that AIDS was something we gays brought on ourselves. Who is she to make a judgment like that? One night this same aide came into my room, took my urinal and hid it down by my feet where I could not get at it. Because of my toxo and dizziness, I would keep it at arm's length. This aide decided that I had it too close to my nose. I had to demand that she put it within arm's reach.

Today I received your solicitation for a contribution. I fail to see why I should aid you in perpetuating oppression. The New York division of your organization has gone to court to protect their right to discriminate against lesbians and gay men. This is not a Christian act, but one of hatred, bigotry, fear, and ignorance.

I will send my money, not to you, but to help those who you and your organization deem unworthy of God's blessing.

Mr. Jeffrey Frerichs Head Administrator Cabrini Medical Center 227 East 19th Street New York, NY 10003 Dear Mr. Frerichs:

John Wilson San Francisco

December 6, 1985

I was readmitted for a recurrence of toxoplasmosis on Friday, September 13, 1985. I left on Monday, September 30, 1985. I had been there at Christmas '84 for three weeks and the nurses were kind then; probably because I was as yet undiagnosed.

I was put in a room-isolation-this time, which was okay by me because in rooms of four there are terminally ill patients. They would be up all night, screaming for pain killers.

First of all, your nurses seem hostile if not burnt out, and do not seem to know the proper way to address an ailing patient. After buzzing and waiting five minutes, an arrogant woman would make her appearance at the doorway (not coming in), place a hand on her hip, and in a high-pitched, arrogant, nasal voice scream out, "Yesssssssssssss!" I would have to consistently reiterate that I wasn't Mr. Yes, but Mr. Buono. At which point I was grudgingly given what I needed. I found this practice to be rude. Wouldn't it have been more polite to ask, "Hi, I'm Nurse Smith. What do you need?"

One day a nurse came in at 5:20. I was in the bathroom. My friend asked when would I be served dinner. She freshly told him, "Perhaps at 5:30. You know we have other priorities besides him."

I do not comprehend how some of your nurses can get jobs at Cabrini and not speak English. One nurse would come into my room shouting and screaming at the top of her lungs. One day I needed a towel and she pointed to a pillow case. It seemed that no matter how simple the request was, she would shout. I could hear her all the way down by the main desk on the tenth floor. Finally she was out for two days and Mike Frosch gave me the sponge bath. On the third day he (Mike Frosch) was out and I saw her and nearly vomited at the thought that she would have to sponge me. Especially because she jostled me about like an old rag doll one day when she had trouble getting my pajama top off. As soon as I saw her I elected to take a shower, no matter how weak I felt. Later on she was crabbing that I was in the shower too long-after not bathing for ten days!

I cannot understand why the nurses do not wear name tags in obvious places. They are cleverly hidden; and once the nurse leaves

Late at night it was another story. A nurse would come in about 12:00 and administer medications. Dr. Montana allocated one Ativan a night before bedtime at 1 a.m. I would have to fight with her each night to prove that he had recorded it. One night she even had the gall to say I had not had an Ativan in nine days. I said, "I beg to differ, but I've had one every night that I have been here." Do I need an anal retentive nurse? I don't get it. Finally I reported her to the desk and it seemed to stop a bit, but the pill was still given to me grudgingly.

Chapter II

Brain Scan Treatments

and Tortures of Various Kinds

Naturally I was starved all day and taken down at 3 p.m. and not scanned till after 6 p.m. Luckily I knew from before to bring two blankets for the ice box. The three-hour wait till 6 p.m. was brutal. There were six elderly people piled up in the corridor, waiting. One woman was in severe pain and kept screaming, "Doctor, nurse, anyone, please, I need a pain killer-help me!" No one came to her aid; no one for three hours. However, the X-ray technician at the end of the hall whistled cheerfully and played handball against the hospital wall...unconcerned?

A bit later, an attractive (to say the least) woman was brought down from nowhere, whisked into the room, and immediately Xrayed with door shut. When she emerged five minutes later (smiling), a transporter was there in no time flat to pick her up cheerfully. Why didn't she have to wait three hours, like us? Preferential treatment, perhaps?

The final brain scan was a horror. I went down at 5:30, after starving all day. Two friends came along to keep me company. I waited about 40 minutes. I had to have two IVs. The room was like ice. There were three people behind the glass panel; two absconded, leaving one, probably, to monitor me.

After a half hour and the first IV, I began to have to urinate badly. I kept shouting to this technician, "I have to pee! Hurry, hurry!" He didn't pay a bit of attention. Finally I had to urinate because my bladder was at the bursting point.

After an hour and 15 minutes, the ordeal was over and I was taken to my chamber, where my friends (not nurses) had to help me disrobe and wash down and get into fresh pajamas.

I'm sure he could plainly see from the window that I was screaming something out. I sense apathy reigns in the X-ray and brain scan departments. As I got off the machine, I told the man, "Thanks for nothing." He repeated my crack. I said, "Yeah, thanks for nothing."

Questions: I don't understand why all brain scan and X-ray patients have to be lined up in a cold corridor for three hours before treatment. What happened to the phone in 1985? Why not call up twenty minutes before the patient is ready?

It seems to me that it is all for the benefit Continued on page 39

6 NEW YORK NATIVE/DECEMBER 23-29, 1985