Learning Curve

It's been a whirlwind around here--that's for sure. Wally can go about three weeks before he begins to have catheter problems. The last was Sunday, Nov. 2.  He was fine that morning and by the afternoon we had to take him to emergency with a clogged catheter. We spent hours in emergency, until by the time they saw Wally, his belly became distended and he had a fever with high blood pressure. We didn't get home until three in the morning. It's hard on Wally as well as us, me and Beto, our new caregiver.

Stan, the last one, reached my tolerance level when he began to verbally abuse Wally, blaming him for the cause of his back pain. He began to jerk Wally up, rather than gradually get him up gently, the way I want him to get Wally up. He said he jerked him because Wally hurt his back but Stan told me he hurt his back helping a friend move cabinets.  Who knows, the fat fuck stayed stoned from morning to midnight. The girlfriend thought I ran a hotel with room service. She woke around eleven in the morning to take her first shower of several for the day, before looking for food, then hop back in bed. The woman went through a role of toilet paper a day. A day, and there would be this rolled up, in toilet paper, tampons in the waste basket as if someone spent time mummifying mice.   I had my fill of Mexican low-life and their L.A. marijuana drug culture and fired his lying, marijuana filled ass. 
Get this, he said he got a job at twenty-five an hour. There is this minor problem, however, about the job wanting a drug test. Good luck with that.

I feel bad for the guy, in some ways. Always trying to find an angle to fuck you out of something, he never was happy with all the things I provided him, always wanting more. Before here, he lived in the living room of a cousin with two autistic boys. He had no privacy, having to rent a motel room, now and then, to fuck his girlfriend.  I gave him a room with wi-fi, multichannel TV, air condition, but once settled in he wanted more and more. Smoked all three gallon bags of my grass from last year's crop. Fed him, his lazy-ass girlfriend, and assorted other friends he invited weekly.

That's all gone now. We are at peace here with Beto, who is older, and quiet, so that it is like having the house back. The bathroom is accessible most of the time.  I'm hoping this is the last caregiver because Wally isn't getting better. He is now in the later stages of dementia and it is getting harder to care for him. If I fucked up on hiring Beto, I'm pretty screwed because finding a replacement now, with Wally's deteriorating condition could be very difficult.