TRIALS OF ST TIMMY'S 43
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THE TRIALS AT ST TIMMY'S --
The Continued Saga of Paul Ess's Rehabilitation
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"MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA..." This is Hortencia. She's
Mejicano and as crazy as a loon. When riled she calls for her
mother and cries and carries on most pitifully. They haven't
found the correct HaapyJuice[tm] for her yet. She was in line
yesterday to see the optometrist.
The optometrist comes all the way from El Lay or at least Santa
Barabara -- according to which rumor you believe. I wonder why
they can't get one from someplace in the Bay Area. Must be
another one of those sweetheart deals between the tardfarm
operators and their friends. He's going to look at a half dozen
nutty LOLs, have his cute assistant mark "nonresponsive" on their
chart, and collect his usual fee from MediCal.
Welcome to episode 43 of the Trials. What a procession they
make, the little old dears all in a row, their tardchairs up and
down the hall. Most of them are too out of it to benefit from
staring at a teevee. There is virtually nothing to read around
here. No one comes to see them.
They're parked in this benevolent prison until something vital
freezes up or stops working, used-up taxpayers all. Why do they
need eyes? We're all going to leave here in due time, most of us
in a plastic bag. We'll be barbecued in a cardboard coffin, one
final bill to the county.
I got my new glasses. I do believe these are highly refractive
plastic. They must've run out of Coke bottle bottoms to grind.
Miss Ralph dropped off my new specs in her rounds yesterday. It
appears the optometrist could care less about final fitting. I
am wearing my old glasses. They fit on my nose better.
George is complaining about his new glasses. He says he can't
see out of them. The optometrist said the rear of his eyes show
signs of an alcoholic history and that George's eyes will shift
in their refraction from time to time and he cannot be well
fitted with lenses. Sounds like hogwash to me. George has ample
opportunity to get hold of hooch. He shows not the slightest
interest.
Mary Quite Contrary across the hall is whining incessantly. WILL
SOMEBODY PLEASE CLOSE MY WINDOW? WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE OPEN MY
WINDOW? WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE CLOSE MY DOOR? will somebody
please open my door? I NEED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM. I HAVEN'T
HAD MY LUNCH YET. Her son and daughter wait on her hand and
foot. They visit her quite late in the evening, probably after a
hard day's work.
This morning it was our fearless leader Gretchen who had to get
her up and walking with a walker. She called Gretchen a bitch.
Gretchen lit into her, LISTEN, MISSY, I DO NOT _LIKE_ THAT WORD!
I'm not surprised. She's more cunt than bitch.
They now set Frannie up in her wheelchair right in front of the
nurse's station all day long. She sits there half asleep with
her food bottle and pump on a pole. They plug her into the wall
and let her be. She won't pull the tube out of her stomach if
she's being watched.
They need to make her sleep in the hall as well. Every night she
pulls the tube out and goo runs all over her and the bed.
Sometimes she does this twice in one night. Her screaming is
getting clearer and longer. I think she's going for an operatic
quality and will soon have it with sufficient practice.
Monsewer Jean next door must be getting better. He doesn't cuss
the nurses quite so much. One told me his bedsore encompasses
most of both asscheeks and is tunnelled and goes to the bone. I
don't see him ever recovering from it. I wonder what sort of
hell hole he was in to be neglected so.
Cookie, his roomie, is even more off in left field. I don't even
try to reason with the old boy over the loudness of his teevee.
I found that my remote will operate his set, so I just roll in
over there, give Monsewer Jean a fish-eyed look, and zap the
teevee volume down to something below deafening.
We had a patient care conference with the new director of
nursing. Miss Ralph was there along with a couple of other yes-
women(!) I bitched about the noise at night and about the food.
Miss Ralph told me later the new DoN intends to address problems.
The former DoN is not here any longer because she didn't...
Even so, you should have seen the oil slick yesterday's "veal"
"parmagiana" was. Here is this wad of blended ground beef heart
and ground dark turkey covered with canned mushooms and sitting
in at least three tablespoons of grease. The mashed potato was
out of a box as usual. The veg was spinach with enough margarine
in it to slide off the plate. I ate the canned fruit cocktail.
I didn't even eat the bread because it was all clotted with slime
off the "meat". The mushrooms were so greasy you could use them
as Tucks to lube your 'rhoids.
I went in to see DoN about this. She was not happy to see me
even before I described the meal in substantially the same terms
as I have here. I rarely raise my voice, but otherwise I am not
really polite when I am pissed off. We agreed I would go from a
Regular NCS [no concentrated sweets] to an ADA [diabetic] 1500-
calorie diet. If this change is not honored or does not
substantially lessen the enormous amount of fat in my diet, I
will stop eating altogether. And if they think they are going to
declare me incompetent and stick a hose in my nose, they have
another think coming.
Miss Ralph just brought me my paratransit "membership" card. Now
I can call up a place in Coketown who coordinate the service and
get a ride wherever I want to go provided it is within 3/4 mile
of an established bus route and/or a rancid trapid station. To
and from the public transportation I will have portal-to-portal
assistance. I can even bring along the equivalent of two grocery
bags (don't tempt me; I like eating out of cans) and someone as
an "attendant" provided this person pays the same two-dollar fare
I do. What surprises me is that this program covers trips to and
from San Francisco; not just East Bay trips. See ya's at the
mall...
Today Mr Cheez and our new friend Demon from the Midwest came to
see me. George came out onto the porch and said to Mr Cheez, The
marijuana, the marijuana. He remembers when Cheez shared the
blessed sacrament of the weed with him. Demon was amused. Demon
has never seen the openness we have in the Bay Area with respect
to Forbidden Activities such as smoking dope and being queer.
I'm sorry to report that Demon's TQ (Tastlessness Quotient) is
disappointingly low. When Mr Cheez and I were discussing the
finer points of stir-frying baby mice, Demon appeared bored.
Earlier in the week Miss Kooky and Demon took me for a ride to
the City. It was My First Time ... using a sliding board to get
in and out of a car. It went much better than I ever thought it
would. Using a somewhat longer board made of Fibreglas did the
trick. The thing's slicker than snot on a doorknob.
It was my idea for us to go to the San Francisco Centre vertical
mall with its four levels of shoppes and four levels of
Nordstrom, the Bloomies of the West. The place has nothing
curious, of dubious taste, or amusing about it the way I
remembered it.
The huge bookstore is gone, broken up into boutiques which made
me think of Laugh-In's Tasteful Lady [Lily Tomlin]. They've been
replaced by a Warner Brothers souvenir store and some overpriced
yuppiescum rag traders. Have I committed inside-out tastlessness
or have I just sucked dirty donkey dick?
All the baubles for sale appeared useless, vapid, or overdone.
Frankly, I couldn't imagine anyone wanting, let alone needing, 99
percent of the crap for sale in there. I often spent an hour
poring over the vintage gewgaws in As Time Goes By, a shop
specializing in Deco-era originals and reproductions. It is but
a choice memory now. I owe both Miss Kooky and Demon a severe
rimjob for not yelling This Place Sucks (which it did) and
leaving my tard ass on the gummy bricks of Market Street.
I'm not sure if the basement john is worth cruising any longer.
The big department store next door to the Centre is closed. When
it was open there was a great parade of darling, bored, young men
hanging around while their spoosockets spent up their money. The
view from the caffe of the escalator had much of its old alure, a
crotch-accenting view of shoppers descending. But it was nice to
see something besides these four walls and wall-to-wall tards for
a change. Thank you, guys.
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