THE TRIALS AT ST TIMMY'S 9
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THE TRIALS AT ST TIMMY'S --
The Continued Saga of Paul Ess's Rehabilitation
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"Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyou
Goddammit YesIdo YesIdo YesIdo YesIdo YesIdo YesIdo YesIdo..."
Birdie, aka Goddammit Lady, gets all excited when I wheel by her
tard chair to see her. This is episode 9 in my rant about being
shuffled from one tardfarm[tm] to another. This morning they
came and put an air mattress on my bed. This big, soft squishy
thing will make it impossible for me to move around in bed, let
alone slideboard my ass out of it into my wheelchair. I hear the
occupational therapist is on leave until next Wednesday when we
should be able to get it together and get to sliding off and on
toilets and in and out of bed. If the air mattress isn't out of
here by two o'clock this afternoon, some folks around here are
going to hear my mouth.
George's wife came to see him yesterday. She spent most of the
day with him. I would like to think she took him to her/their
house and gave him some hot, steaming TLC. I doubt even a stroke
will keep a good Italian down... After she left he sure was in a
good mood. The hot weather we've been having the past week
caused me to tank up on water. Last night my bod decided to let
go of some of its reserves. I had to ring to have my jug emptied
three times in the night. George would wake up each time the
light came on but he didn't growl JesusChrist JesusChrist at me
like he did over a lot less the night before. The woman he hangs
out with all the time that lives here got all kinds of bent out
of shape. She stayed in her room and pouted all day. She didn't
even come out for supervised smoking around seven yesterday
evening. Somebody told me George and his wife are separated.
Glub deliver me from love triangles.
Evilene snagged me as I was leaving my room to go to dinner. She
asked most piteously (she's really good at that) if I would call
her friend in Manteca and ask the friend to bring her--
Diet 7Up
diet cookies
unsalted crackers
diet chewing gum
diet candy
Okay, Miss Piggy, I can see you there just stuffing that great
toofless maw of yours with stick after stick of gum you can't
possibly chew. How much would you like to bet her friend is a
big fat pig, too? If you know Spanish, you know the town's name
means 'lard'... Around here we laugh about that as much as we do
about how the town of Chico is the Velveeta capital of
Californica.
Mizz Evilene, You's on a fluid restriction cuz you was a bad dirl
for too many years and let your diabetes rot your kidneys so you
have to be dialyzed to keep your rotten self in your saggy-baggy
fat body. You need simple carbos in crackers like you need free
sugar. Not. You might get away gorging on dietetic candy and
cookies if the fat content and/or the sorbitol don't get you
first.
High fat foods can be worse for us diabetics than some simple
sugar. Sorbitol can give you the serious liquishits -- which
would be fun to watch what with the trouble you have getting
nurseypoo to bring you a bedpan. I'm sure nurseypoo would just
love to deal with the aftermath of that great double powdered-
donut ass of yours spewing chocolate syrup into the cold, hard
metal pan. Nurseypoo could lose her arm setting that pot under
you if you lie back too soon, you squealing hog.
Excuse me. I got carried away. Self-absorption bores and
infuriates me unless I am the one doing it. Even though I am
just as saggy-baggy as she is and somewhat less fat and have a
few more teef left, I consider it my province to rag about her
for her defects. Call it hypocrisy; it is a tasteless trait to
cultivate. Some of the nurses here refer to her as Raglady
because she complains and whines so much. I have learned much by
observing her technique...
I called her friend Collect and gave the message. The friend
said she could come two days from now but she needed to be sure
Sally could have all this crap. I gave the number to the RN on
the desk who called the friend and assured her that Miss Piggy
could have the stuff. Wonderful. I thought she might share the
bounty. Hell, no. She moved out this afternoon against medical
advice. Don't think for a second any of the nurses care...!
For dinner we had what was billed Beef Pot Pie. Nooooo. Sorry.
This was Dogfood en Croute. Nooooo. This was beyond dogfood. I
don't think even Swan's dawg Delsie would eat this crap and
Delsie will eat twice-digested pepperoni and mushrooms.
Something must have been wrong with it because this morning I
never saw so many CNAs crowding the Hooper Room washing the
shitolas off of bedpads and asswrappers. We don't use
disposables here, as a rule. Everything polluted gets the crud
washed off and goes to the laundry. There must have been a whole
lot of it today because the head nurse (no kneepads) was on the
PA saying do not flush any toilets. The sewer backed up in the
laundry room. That must've been cute. And I had to pick today
to sleep in! If only I had my SLR and a fresh roll I might have
gotten some good GIF material.
This afternoon we played Bingo in the lunchroom/dininghall. Some
folks from the local Catholic parish come in to run it on
Sundays. They give cosmetic samples and such as little prizes.
Otis sat opposite me. He's a sweet old black man who couldn't
find his Bingo numbers if he had to, so we all helped him out.
He skunked me and Queen Bee. I must learn to stop being nice to
people. I did come away with some perfectly useless shaving gel
made for females to shave whatever it is they shave. I'll give
it to George. He will think it's neat and won't know the
difference. Anyone who can shave with these cheap-ass disposable
razors without screaming is pretty insensitive. I scrape it off
with a Norelco rechargeable or take my carotid into my own hands
with a Centurion straight razor -- you know, the same one I
sweetened up McDouche with.
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