Apr 1, 2013

Hello again. and other things.

It's April first.I have horrible PMS. I am not joking. and I actually hate April Fool's jokes. I hate jokes that make me or others feel stupid. Call me a dud. Go ahead. Call me a dud. But I will probably call you an asshole. Well, this is going swimmingly so far. Sorry if I scared you off. No, I actually am not. That wasn't an April Fool's joke. It was just a lie. I'm grumpy. I've been doing so well for so long but haven't written about it. Then I come back to write many months later and I crap all over the page. Sorry. I have crap on the mind. I'll be really honest. I have been dealing with literal crap a lot lately. I work for this little old lady who may or may not be related to me. She will remain nameless. She is 90 and doing pretty darn well. She is living alone and requires someone to come in daily for two hours in the morning and two hours at night. This job works pretty well for me. I don't usually have to deal with people besides her. That is great because frankly, I am not a huge fan of people. This use to bug me about myself but recently I have come to terms with the fact that some people just do not play well with others.Let's take a rabbit trail here. I'm burned out on assholes. I burned out on selfish people with major issues that are incompatible with my major issues. I have very little tolerance for assholery and ohmygoodlord there is SO much of it everywhere. I started getting the grumpies when we first moved to Tacony. The grumpies turned into misanthropy and then turned into down right hate. Leaving the city has been fantastic for me. A little less trash and a little less noise can really do wonders for a girl. Then I took a job working with crazies. I don't mean crazies in the mentally ill sense because although the population was all psychiatric patients the crazies weren't always mentally ill. They were drug addicts who were flipping out because they couldn't get their uppers and downers when they wanted them. OR their kids were on meds to help them maintain and the parents could not handle one day with their child off of their meds. I lasted a few months before I made the realization that someone who isn't a fan of people shouldn't be working in customer service. Anyway, that brings me back to this current job. Hours are great. Lots of alone time. Lots of freedom. Lots of poop. Which kind of puts a damper on things. Ah, just looked at the time. I have to leave for said job but am going to publish this. Otherwise, I will never get back to it.

And now I'm back. from Outer space. I just walked in to find you there with that sad look upon your face. I didn't really. Again, a lie. NOT an April Fool's joke. Well the job. Care taking is hard work. It's really draining emotionally and physically. I am not complaining. It's just the facts, Mam.Speaking of Mam, as my dear mother is called by my fantastic niece and nephew. Actually, Just the one niece. The other niece calls her Mimi and the OTHER niece doesn't call her a damn thing cause she is like three weeks old. BUT speaking of Mam/Mimi/what have you, she really saved my ass today. my much much smaller ass. Let's take another rabbit trail. I can't remember how much weight I had lost since I last wrote but as of now from surgery I've lost 116 lbs since the surgery. 133 from my highest weight. and feeling really good. Well, usually. Today I feel like crap because of the PMS. Oh yeah, crap. Ok, so this fancy little Granny I work for has a smallishly large issue with not always making it to the bathroom in time. The OTHER rather unfortunate thing is that she denies that it happens 9 times out of 10. The SUPER DE DUPER unfortunate thing is that the blessed one time that she will admit to needing depends and agrees to wear them she flicking forgets that she agreed to wear them approximately 5 minutes later. She has Dementia. Strangely selective dementia. She remembers some things and somethings float right the hell out of her mind almost as soon as they enter. So, there is this woman who doesn't make it to the toilet and sadly, quite often leaves a turdy surprise to be cleaned up. Then when I say, "Hey, let's get one of this awesome depends on". She says, "Oh, I don't need depends". I then launch into a speech about the fact that she does. I try to be light hearted at first. "hey when I'm 90 I'll be wearing depends 24/7. " I try to blame it on the diabetes. " This is perfectly normal and nothing to be embarrassed by". I even try to make her feel better with ,"We all poop our pants sometimes". If she finally agrees to wearing the depends I go to the room to get it. When I bring it out to her I get, " I don't need a depends". Back to square one.She's getting better about wearing them in the morning. But sometimes bad stuff happens before she gets it on. Why doesn't she sleep in one?,  you ask. Please see above scenario. Today there was a massive turdy surprise. I haven't been feeling well lately and hard as I tried I just could not stop gagging. Gagging to the point of crying and having a panic attack. I had to call my Mommy/Mam/Mimi/ what have you and she so kindly came to clean up the poo. I have never had this big of an issue so it was really really kind of her. So, that's my story about why crap is on the brain. Even though I am not a fan of the poop I really don't hate the job.Some days are great and some days are shitty.   Literally. But isn't life just kind of like that? So for now, I am thankful for the job because frankly I'd rather deal with her shit than with other's. 

2 comments:

Nina said...

Is it wrong that I enjoyed this post as much as I did? It feels a bit wrong, and I am sorry that you have to deal with as much literal crap as you do... But you always amuse me, and your honesty? Always refreshing. For. Real.

Anonymous said...

okay i can laugh....hilariously well said!....and i am mam/mimi/mommy