2 Years with the Old

Can't sleep even though I went to bed late.  I keep thinking about my patients.  I'm really getting worried about them, though I really don't know why.  And it doesn't seem to matter how hard I try to go to bed by a reasonable hour, it always seems like I'm barely in bed before 9pm.  Which is stupid because I know, I know that come 6:45am all the low-lifes who are pissed because they can't get a job with decent hours come cruising past my window.  Wouldn't be so bad hearing just some extra traffic, but they all insist on having those stupid noise enhancers on the tail pipe so my morning hatred of them can just fester with that much more fodder.  As if that weren't enough, by ten after 7 the people upstairs give up and drag their sorry rear-ends out of bed and start plodding around like dinosaurs.  Finally I give up and drag my own sorry rear-end out of bed to check on the elderly couple at the other end of the apartment.

They're decent folks.  I mean, the pay isn't great:  a hair more than room and board, including a small stipend for personal expenses like clothing and shampoo and such.  Overall I've come to like them well enough over the past 2 years to make up for it, but it's tough being their home care helper in the mornings.  She's usually more responsive than he is, but sometimes she gets confused and tries to pull me into bed with her.  Him, on the other hand, I have to resort to more drastic measures to wake in order to get him up and ready for work.  I'm not sure the boss would approve if she knew I were tickling patients, but whatever.  I get the job done, and I don't hear anyone complaining (much).

Finally, the guy's alarm goes off for the 5th time, and he digs himself out of his cave.  It's not a pretty site:  he sleeps in just his underwear.  Man, I don't get paid enough for this.  Anyway, he does his scratch and piss and then slowly puts on his socks and stuff.  I try to pretend it doesn't bother me that he takes forever to get his pants on and try to focus on other things.  The woman has some atrocious bed-head most days, and today it's particularly awful.  You'd think she was at war with an entire colony of bats in her sleep or something.  She's really not a morning person, but she makes a decent breakfast and usually tosses together a lunch for the guy to bring to work.  In the right light, I can sometimes see where she might have been pretty in her youth, but it's hard to tell once they get this old.  Anyway, at least she wears pajamas.  I don't think I could handle it if she didn't.

To be honest, I'm not really sure why they feel they need me.  He's still able to take himself to and from work and doesn't seem to need any help during the day.  She can still drive (which is a good thing because I still haven't gotten around to getting my permit), though she makes me sit in the back for some reason.  As soon as the man leaves, she starts rushing around getting dressed and packing together all kinds of stuff she probably won't need unless the apocalypse suddenly strikes.  It makes her feel better, so I usually let her go ahead with it.  After that we usually go to the gym or one of her physical therapy sessions.  She's always got something going on with her neck or back or whatever.  Getting old must really be an awful experience.

About once a week we go to this geriatric function in a large warehouse.  They've got lots of great gymnastics equipment that the old people don't really use.  I'm not sure what the reason is for meeting there, but they all come with their home care helpers, so we hang out together and use the equipment.  It would be a shame for it all to go to waste, right?  Plus we get to spend some time with people who aren't all crippled or whatever.

Anyway, we do lunch, and then I have to help the woman read a bit before her nap.  I tend to crash out pretty quickly afterward myself, probably because I'm still not getting enough sleep at night.  Usually I have to wake her up so she doesn't oversleep, and then we go run errands or whatever.  She cooks dinner, and then the man comes home and asks about our day.  I really don't know why he bothers since it's the same thing every day it seems, but maybe he's just hoping we'll ask about his day.  He sure does like to talk about it.  I tend to tune him out when he goes on about work, which he doesn't seem to mind since the lady pays attention pretty well to him.  Lately I've been trying to get them out for some more physical activity, so we usually head out for a walk to do some work in the community garden or get the mail if the woman and I forgot to get it earlier.

After that I have to help the guy with his bath.  He may be some kind of pervert, I don't know, because really, if he's able to go to work on his own, why does he need me to help him bathe?  Still, he sings funny songs, so I can't help but enjoy splashing around the water with him.  He's a decent guy, even if he is a little gone in the head, but I have to respect a man who can improvise songs like he does.

The man gets his underoos back on and starts wandering around complaining about brushing teeth and flossing and how much easier it used to be "back in the day".  I usually have to remind him and the woman about the importance of flossing, but they get kind of stingy with the floss.  I may have to start buying my own, I guess.

Then he makes me read some stories with him, and we all go to bed.  I suspect that they stay up late fairly often, though, because I check on them now and again when I have trouble falling asleep, and they always seem to be awake.  Anyway, I'm falling asleep finally, so I'm heading out.  See ya!