Archive for the 'Mooch' Category

Simple Minds Embrace Clichés

Wednesday, July 4th, 2007

After I’d been a patient at the rehab hospital for several weeks, the faceless administration assigned me to the brain trauma floor. My stroke technically qualified as brain trauma, but I’d managed to survive the debacle with my cognitive abilities unscathed. Other patient’s serious injuries had forced them to accept a diminished level of mental competence.

My first roommate appeared to be in his late teens. One afternoon his family—mom, dad, and little sister—showed up for a visit. He greeted them with befuddled grunts. After his father slowly and loudly recited the litany of events leading to his hospitalization, he warmed up and began to mumble at them. more »

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The Curse of Mabel

Wednesday, April 11th, 2007

Mabel packed an ass the size of a small continent. Her gargantuan derriere and beer-barrel legs appeared wildly mismatched to her plump but normally proportioned upper body. The warehouse administration employed Mabel as head nurse. (There’s a joke in there somewhere.) While the stubby angle of mercy pushed a cart filled with medicines and dressings from room to room, she didn’t walk so much as laboriously waddle. When she pulled a graveyard shift, she routinely interrupted the slumber of residents in order to tend to their medical demands. Of course some residents needed round-the-clock care, but clearly not everybody required frequent attention. Shortly after I arrived at the warehouse Mabel woke me at 4:00 am for some reason—I don’t remember why, so the reason couldn’t have been too stellar. more »


Paratransit Follies — Part 3

Wednesday, April 4th, 2007

Read Part 2
Many warehouse residents were elderly and/or near death. The chintzy bastard administrator, Mr. Gold couldn’t justify paying a trained therapist to work with a resident, only to watch that resident waste any newly learned physical strategies by dying. The warehouse bosses promoted easily manipulated CNA’s who excelled at making beds and emptying bedpans to revered positions as physical therapists, much like teacher’s pets are chosen to clap erasers. Stupendously lazy young residents didn’t care about the administration’s tacit ban on competent therapists; they rationalized that their own lack of ambition demonstrated a mature acceptance of their bodily deficits. Or maybe they realized physical independence meant an end to their mooching. more »


Jews Don’t Bother Roy

Wednesday, February 28th, 2007

My pre-warehouse roommates had always maintained their own area in our shared dwelling. They regularly used soap and for the most part knew when to make themselves scarce. But while I vacationed at the warehouse, the administration almost always assigned an unwashed and inconsiderate dimwit to the bed only two-and-a-half feet away from mine. The staff and the other residents considered me an uppity asshole because I chose to draw the privacy curtain hanging from the ceiling around my bed, thus defining a personal cubbyhole.* And I’d demonstrated the habit of rejecting the staff’s minor-league bullshit instead of cowering and blindly accepting anything thrown my way.

While I enjoyed a welcomed but way too brief period without a roommate, a guy in his early fifties strolled into my room. more »


All Crippled-Up

Wednesday, December 27th, 2006

Freddie expected the CNA’s to unconditionally wait on him even after he’d shown the capability of performing a given task. For example, he easily navigated his wheelchair to the liquor store but took for granted that a CNA would happily drag his drunken ass to the shower room when the stench of his soap-deprived body became unbearable. If anyone questioned the annoying lack of effort he put into taking care of himself, he bellyached like a petulant child: “But I be all crippled up.” Sometimes he’d also remind them: “. . . And I’m a black man.” I never figured out any reasonable correlation between his race and his accidental injury. more »


But He Can’t Help It

Wednesday, December 20th, 2006

CNA’s indifferently accepted that some residents pissed onto the linoleum floor while lying half asleep in their beds because they were too lazy to get up and baptize the porcelain catchall. It never crossed their pea-brains that such a resident might be wildly ill-bred. Most parents teach their small children appropriate toilet habits; therapists were supposed to teach such skills to absent-minded patients. But the therapists often sloughed the responsibility off on the charge nurse, who delegated it to the CNA’s. The dullwitted CNA’s proved themselves incapable of any action beyond summoning a member of the housekeeping staff and telling them to mop the floor.

To be fair, it was hard to tell at first glance who suffered from physical dysfunction and who chose to conduct themselves like a fucking animal. more »


Every Day Is Christmas

Wednesday, October 4th, 2006

Some of the staff referred to Jake as “Santa Claus”; his visage and demeanor inspired the nickname. His longish white hair and full beard contrasted with his omnipresent gray knit cap. He carried his bulky frame with assurance though old-age sluggishness had begun to slow his movements. Jake’s arsenal of charm included a dazzling smile cracked as a prelude to friendly conversation punctuated by good-natured chortles. He claimed to have at one time been financially comfortable and married to a stunningly gorgeous Asian woman—he made a big deal about her ethnicity. Once I asked him why he had been relegated to the warehouse. He mumbled something about his heart, then quickly changed the subject. more »

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Drive Time

Thursday, September 14th, 2006

Ambulance service is like medical care insofar as you get what you pay for. A resident in a private nursing home that needs transportation via ambulance to a hospital can expect intelligent, polite, well-trained attendants. The same dumbasses who initially conjectured that recreational drugs and a botched suicide attempt caused my stroke abandoned me in a public warehouse. Like nearly everybody on a state-run medical facility staff, low-rent ambulance attendants delude themselves that they’re “health care professionals” though they’re amazingly stupid, lack even the most rudimentary social skills, and are less conscientious of their work than poorly trained chimpanzees. The ambulance attendants with whom I interacted presented themselves without exception as bumbling dolts. more »

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No Soap

Monday, August 28th, 2006

The staff at the warehouse operated within the law when they strongly suggested to an unwashed resident that they shower. But the same series of laws prohibited the staff from forcing soap and water on even the most slovenly detainees. Filthy stinking elderly patients that couldn’t wash themselves and grubby odious mentally handicapped adults that didn’t know any better enjoyed certain personal freedoms bestowed by clueless politicians. Flunkies that paid little attention to their own hygiene enforced these token rights and knew that a resident’s “refusal” to shower meant less work. more »

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Seen and Not Heard

Monday, July 24th, 2006

I’m annoyed but mildly amused when slow-witted asshats assume I’m retarded and speak freely in my presence. They delude themselves into believing that I can’t fathom their piddly conversations.

While I was stuck in the warehouse I scheduled a dentist appointment for myself. The staff could only be bothered with the needs of near-death patients and then only to head off criticism from the chronically bitchy head nurse. The nurse on my floor heavily sighed at the inconvenience of doing her job, then scheduled a ride to my dentist with a Medivan. Medivans are designed similarly to the vans intended to augment handicap accessible public transit but are dispatched exclusively for transportation to and from medical appointments. Use of medivans for any other purpose is officially prohibited. more »

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