THE TRIALS AT ST TIMMY'S 15
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THE TRIALS AT ST TIMMY'S --
The Continued Saga of Paul Ess's Rehabilitation
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"Is Paul here?"
"Yes, but I am giving him a bed bath right now"
The door was opened without knocking. The curtain between me and
my caretaker was opened for a good look.
"You'll have to come back when I'm done with him!"
"Oh. Uh. Okay."
They're here just in time to start off episode 15. Did you
unannounced visitors enjoy beholding my groganpasty butt? I keep
praying for cheese to tighten me up. That was Ronny from The
ERR. He's here with another staff member delivering some new
tards to St Timmy's. Dragon Lady is cleaning house again. She
got rid of me and now she's going to get rid of some other old
fools who don't fit her exacting standards of:
(1) Eat what we give you, swill though it be
(2) Shut up
(3) Get up when we roll you over, clean your butt, and
stick you upright in a tardchair[tm]
(4) Shut up
(5) Like it when we haul your ass back to bed
(6) Shut up
(7) Don't bitch when we stick hoses in you wherever
we damn please
(8) Shut up
(9) Holler in your senility all you like cuz we won't pay
any attention
(10) Shut up
(11) Pay your bill your damn self when we piss off your
insurance company
(12) Shut up
(13) Don't talk to the state inspectors
(14) Shut up
(15) When media is here, say how nice we are
(16) Shut up
(17) Smile when we say stupid things to you
(18) Above all, SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Among the new people we got stuck with are none other than The
Buzzard. Buzzard is the one who calls everybody and everything
sonofabitch. Miss Ralph came by to talk to me today and I told
"her" about Buzzard. Ralph said Buzzard looked at him with his
one eye and said, "Oh, I see the devil is here!" That's a new
one. I didn't know Buzzard had got a sense of humor over at the
other place. My Glub, next thing you know he'll get a clue!
I went to the adjoining room where we have Bobby, the one who
used to live in a rapid transit station and who got beat up when
somebody who didn't like his looks had an extra bad day. Miss
Stephanie at The ERR was accused of hanky-panky when Bobby pulled
out his diapers, balled them up and threw them on the floor,
proclaiming them to be his babies by Miss Stephanie. Now, if
Miss Stephanie is involved in this procreation, howcome "she"
isn't the one giving birth? Oh, don't tell me: Miss Stephanie
doesn't wear the diapers that magically become babies!
Perfectly logical. (You don't get it? Then you belong in here.)
We also inherited Mr Salazar who used to sing tardly grand opera
all night and a lot of the day in his senility. He's just as bad
as he always was and will keep half this wing awake tonight, wait
and see. He's more distant than the groaner next door, but
between the two of them I may want to keep the buzzing relay in
the wall going instead of having it fixed.
Mrs Salazar is glad to have him out of The ERR because ERR let
him get monster bedsores. They also didn't do anything about
having a dentist come in to treat an aching tooth. In his 80s,
the old boy has most if not all his permanent teeth -- amazing
what corn and beans with do for you.
The occupational therapist saw me today and will get in touch
with Cruel Cross and MediCal to see who will pay for what. All I
need is equipment adjustments and some hints from Hellawheeze on
how to slide to and from bed, the pot, and a car. Can I just pay
you $50 and we skip all the bureaucratic bullshit? Didn't I tell
you it all comes down to money? To Hell with public service and
Doing the Right Thing.
Like they aren't paid well enough to help me along here with the
$90-some dollars a DAY they bang the state. Let's face it, the
OT's salary goes on whether she does anything or we pay
additional or not. This tardfarm industry is a racket and that's
why I want to rip it a new asshole. Danny in the internet said
it best when he warned, Look out for what grandma is in for.
Our noontime Social Dining Program continues. We're up to seven
participants including one who can't make up her mind (a) to get
up before noon, (b) eat in her room, or do a logical AND, or do a
logical OR. If that doesn't make any sense, then you understand
why _she_ doesn't either. The table I sit at is too high. It is
adjustable and somebody jacked it sky high. I was ranting about
how I could just put my lip on the edge and scrape my tray
contents right into my maw. They thought I was being funny.
The CNA who attends us "axes" each of us to tell her what her
name is. I guess she keeps forgetting or something. Maybe she
should be in here too. She hands us the contents of our trays.
I think its sooooo sweet to have a thumbprint in my gnashed
potato and my pick and shovel dropped on a table cloth which
hasn't seen washing in Glub knows how long.
The administrator comes in every other day or so to fuss and coo
and ask us if we are having a good time. We'd have a better time
if we were left to speak quietly to whomever we might have
something relevant to say. Most of us just want to survey the
trough, eat the least objectionable items, and go back to netting
or contemplating our gall bladder scar.
I went to the dining room to have dinner tonight so I could check
out the old ladies again. Junior sat across from me. Junior
runs his wheelchair backward until he crashes into something
and/or gets cussed. He eats everything with a spoon. He eats
ice cream alternately with string beans and macaroni-cheese. He
eats macaroni-cheese, ice cream, and part of my fruit cocktail.
Touch my coffee and you're a dead little tard... For dessert I
had a Hershey bar washed down with black coffee. This would have
worked better had the coffee been stronger, but it was much
better than more diced peach bits.
Some LOL across the room began wobbling back and forth in her
wheelchair. It's a good thing they had a Posey belt around her
middle or she would have taken off. The CNA feeding her by the
spoonful asked what was the matter. The old girl choked out she
was going to "vomick". O Joy! -- O Bliss! -- My first mealtime
chunder! -- BBBLLLOOOOOOGHGHGHGHGHGHAAA! Her Tooflessless is on
a "mechanical soft" [ground-up] diet, so the stuff looked about
the same coming back with the addition of the milk.
It covered her tray and got a good bit of the table as well. Her
tablemates sat there without going EWWWWW, which is more than you
can expect of today's children. Miss Potty Mouth was attracted
by the commotion and pronounced, "Oooooh. Her throw up!" Miss
PM made a move on the old girl's coffee. Yesterday Miss PM got
scolded for getting into the re-racked meal trays for the
leftover coffee mugs. She drinks a dozen or more cups a day but
we never see her go pee.
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