THE TRIALS AT ST TIMMY'S 17
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THE TRIALS AT ST TIMMY'S --
The Continued Saga of Paul Ess's Rehabilitation
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Here we go with episode 17. Already?! Yup. Well, we don't have
The Groaner anymore. This is the guy next door who lies there
going, "AAAAAUUUUUHHHHHRRRRRHHHHHUUUUUAAAAA" over and over til I
shut the door to the corridor and both the toilet room doors
between our rooms to try to get a little peace. Sometimes his
roomie who, they tell me, is aware, joins in. I have to confess
I have been known to join in. There is something primevally
satisfying about a good groan, much as there is about a good
grunt.
I heard some clatter going on in the next room, but I didn't pay
attention to it because I was busy netting. When I logged off I
opened the door and looked out to see two of the humpiest
paramedics ever. Boys! Oh, BOYS! -- Here, boys! Heal me right
NOW! The only cure for me is a double hot beef injection! One
said something to the other about telling the charge nurse to
call the mortuary. They picked up all their gear from all around
the room (much bending over and flexing of divine buttcheeks),
piled it on the gurney, and took off.
I didn't want to be a whore about it, but I did want to have a
look. I came back in my room and closed the door. They'd closed
the door to The Groaner's room. I went through to his room via
the toilet room and had a good long stare. The old bag-o-bones
was lying on the floor where they apparently had placed him to
try to revive him. He was semi-covered with a sheet. His roomie
was in bed asleep and therefore unaware of me. I reached down to
lift the sheet and check out the corpse. I guess it takes a
while for you to turn blue and all that theatrical shit. Groaner
didn't look too healthy, but then he never did. His eyes were at
half mast and his jaw was hanging open as usual. He still had
his pissbag attached and I could smell a minor whiff of
groganpaste so I figured his starfish had flopped open as well.
So much for the excitement. Queen Bee bid me enter her chambers.
We gabbed a bit. She said she was going to go to the Bible study
they have in the fireplace room up front. She still had a mile
and a half to go on her thousand-millimeter More though. So she
smoked and told me about the new guy down the hall who is young
and polite. These are two things Bee likes in men. Actually,
anything under 60 is young to her. I'd already introduced myself
to John on my way to Social Dining this noon. He's a double
amputee below the knee. Sooner or later we will compare notes on
what happened to us. You'll be the first to know if Bee doesn't
pump him first.
I decided I preferred Bingo to Bible, so I headed for the dining
room. The activity lady who's in on weekends is so used to
calling Bingo numbers she just does a lot of it out of her head
and catches up with the board later. I won a cherry pie.
Everybody won a cherry pie. I've already chowed down on Fritos
today so I'd better wait with the pie. It's better to do a four
o'clock bleed and have a lower BG than to eat like a hog and show
over 200. Ming the Merciful might get shook and put me back on
the needle.
While we were doing our second blackout game, the old lady next
to me started drooling uncharacteristically and was not really
paying attention. Then I noticed her lower lip was protruding,
but some of the folks around here just do that. Then her lip
started getting purple-like, and so did her hands. She wasn't
breathing. The old lady next to her got a load of this and
started screaming Help. I was going to be quiet and observe the
pattern. Soon nurses were running in and wheeling her Glub knows
where. Father Charles is going to run our census down so far
this place won't turn a profit the month of June!
More on John. I was sitting in the hall this morning when he
rang for nurseypoo. He asked for two "blue sheets" and some KY
Jelly. Anytime someone says KY I just squirm a little. I
thought he was going to do a good wank, and here I am ready to
give a good man a hand. Nurseypoo didn't understand what he
wanted and/or what he was going to do. From what I could hear
(not much), he was going to dig around for some groganage. It
had to be that or replace his own urinary catheter. Apparently
he has some kind of lowdown (in more ways than one) nerve damage.
I suspect he lost his feets and got a low back injury in some
kind of crash.
It _does_ come in threes! Some old coot on the other wing bought
the farm early this morning. He's related to George by marriage.
I've met the family though we didn't really pay too much
attention to each other. Bee is friendly with them. They came
in at noon today when Social Dining was whirling and told George
the old man bit it. George broke down right in the middle of his
pot roast. Jesus, can't these people pick a time and place? All
together now: How tasteless!
I gave George some space this afternoon so he could just be
alone. Aloneness is hard-won in a place like this. I got some
copies made to send to the agent at one of the tardvillas[tm] I
applied to for housing. I must have worked my little ass to the
top of one of their piles cuz they want to contact my old
landlord and see if I threw wild parties. Miss Kooky reminded me
in email this morning that I would have two mom&pops and a great
big Walgreens to haunt on my block if I move to that particular
one. There is also a monster record store nearby and a bank
branch where, after a one and a half year absence I may again
worship at the Wayside Shrine of Our Lady of the Greenbacks,
namely an ATM.
I had my first occupational therapy session at this place this
morning. Now _here's_ a chick who knows what she's doing. This
one's a real girl, not a fake girly-girl like that FAGGOT at the
other place. It was great to find out I could slide to and from
the mat/bedthang in the exercise room with no trouble just like
old times. I got a chance to sniff my tardchair cushion to see
if I really did pee on it that time. Nope. Mr Cheez will be
disappointed. Thursday we will lower my bed and try going to and
from that. After I learn this little skill (should be as simple
as the mat thang) we go for the porcelain goddess. I have a
bunch of new exercises to do, but I plan to do twice as many reps
and to do them twice a day. You could call it sweatin' wif da
oldies... One thing, in these places they won't push you to get
better. You might get well and leave.
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