Worthless Goddamned Cripple

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 »

Read Part 1
“Caring staff” — One of my roommates, a friendly and gentle middle-aged man, suffered from Elephantitis. He harbored an uncommon variety of the disease that merited his lecturing at out-of-state medical schools. Classic Elephantitis causes extreme swelling of the victim’s limbs or genitals; my roommate’s manifestations weren’t readily visible. Though his body remained normally proportioned, his unique version of Elephantitis had rendered him legally blind and extraordinarily weak, and had usurped control of his bladder. Unsteady on his feet, he shuffled like the Mummy after downing a handful of Quaaludes. He spent his last days confined to a wheelchair. more »

In the weeks following my release from the warehouse, I discovered that various administrative secretaries had wildly fucked up the paperwork associated with my case. This came as no surprise given the treatment I received while a resident. Faced with the almost impossible task of lighting fires under unconcerned asses, I phoned the warehouse office several times and attempted to perform the administration’s job for them. Whenever a clueless staff member answered the phone and put me on hold, I heard a pre-recorded advertisement for the warehouse. more »

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 »

I’ve previously written that a pain-in-the-ass is not worthy of respect only because they happen to live with a handicap. My one-time roommate Gerry proved himself a textbook example of my well-founded conviction.

Gerry bragged that he had once auditioned to fill the vacant position in the Doors left by Jim Morrison’s alleged death. Amazingly the three surviving members held the audition in the mid-eighties. Gerry claimed to have performed very well but “the bastards” rejected him “because [he’s] handicapped.” more »

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 »

Another cherished warehouse memory features Tim getting blind drunk and shitting on the linoleum floor in front of our shared closet.

Tim had been sloshed and passed out after mewling about the unfairness of life. After he had woken from forty-five minutes of fitful slumber I heard him stir, immediately unlock the drawer in his nightstand and fumble for a bottle—undoubtedly a pint of cheap vodka. Then I heard him unscrew the cap and guzzle a healthy measure. more »

I assure you that I think everyone should cut slack for people plagued by involuntary physical, mental, or emotional handicaps. But self-pitying dysfunctional assholes that choose not to help themselves aren’t worthy of my or anyone else’s respect regardless of whether or not they’re handicapped. During my involuntary stint at the warehouse I noticed that many residents did not suffer from an overwhelming condition that required round-the-clock medical attention. more »