The very definition of….something….porcine?

Have you ever lived inside a moho in the winter?  In unceasing rain?  On someone’s lawn?  Have you ever lived with an invalid who really cannot move more than a few hundred feet?  Who needs attending to?  Have you ever had to be a care-giver when your more natural inclination is to just punch people in the face?  Well, have ya, punk?

(OK, there is a dark side to care-giving.  Who knew?)

I am NOT yet fully stir-crazy – not really – but I am shaken.  That thin remaining thread of my civility is only because my cell mate is Sal, the loveliest person to have ever walked the planet.  I have NOT punched her in the face.  Not yet.  I might have punched Mother Teresa by now, but not Sal.  I have not even thought of punching Sal in the face (not yet, honest)….but, I must admit…I have often thought of punching the very NEXT person I meet in the face.  That has to say something…..

….it means the staff of Save-On Foods better watch out.

This care-giving thing is….well, a bit of a challenge for me.  Mostly because of the ^%$!#$&*! dishes!  Sal is easier to give care to than anyone else but I am now getting ‘cooked’.  I may even be verging on ‘burnt crisp’.  Care?  “I don’ stinkin’ care, amigo!” I am now fully capable of putting kids in cages.  ICE should hire me.  If ‘they need care’, I say. “Lock ’em up!”  “Build the wall!”

Being a care-giver is NOT what it sounds like.  It is NOT about care.  It is, in truth,  being a servant!  It is ‘complete subordination’ to the eccentric whims of the invalid whether or not those whims are important or even necessary.  “I need to quilt” means, take her to the fabric shop and help her buy fabric for quiltsAND then participate in the choosing of fabrics!!!  “Be nice!  Smile!”  Care has been replaced by subservience.  I am now just a ‘servant’, a ‘domestic’, a ‘toady’.  I am a hand-maid.

Someone should write a book…..

I am not sure.  I am afraid to look.  But I think my dick fell off.  

Sal is worth it.  OF COURSE.  She is great.  Really great.  I mean that totally.  Sincerely.  I love her dearly.   Honest.   And I am revealed as just another face-punching pig.  Oink!  I should be ashamed.  And……..I am……….kinda……..but, you know…the species didn’t grow to dominate the planet by being care-givers now, did it?  Right now I am feeling more of a bond with Ghengis Khan.  Even Stalin.  Florence Nightingale?  Not so much.

I had no idea my veneer of ‘nice guy’ was so thin.  (Well, actually, maybe I did.)

Sal is healing.  It is wonderful.  She is healing faster than the doctors expected.  She is remarkable.  A marvel.  Truly.  She seems to get more motivated by the day.  Wants to go home.  Doesn’t want me out in public (how considerate).  I wonder what her  exceptionally high level of motivation for ‘getting us out of here’ might be….?

 

 

 

 

8 thoughts on “The very definition of….something….porcine?

  1. I do not envy your your situation. I think part of it is the motor home, the city setting and its rough corners. I shop, I cook, I clean and sometimes I’m down to my last feeble smile or so it seems. I try to go out just after rush hour during the morning traffic lull. How soon are you two headed home?

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    • OK, gang…..I have known Sid longer than I have known Sal. I have NEVER seen him smile. NOT once! Laugh out loud? Oh, yeah….but smile? NEVER.
      We are headed home within ten days – give or take…a day. OMG!!!!!

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  2. I went through the RV stage, had a 33ft winni, ho hum,
    Got the full experience in 3 or 4 years, with the young ones.
    Have never had much of a hankering to go back.
    I think I can empathize with you, it seemed like a good idea but,,,,
    Maybe a mulligan, but you cannot get a free replay.
    Most of my kith and kin sailed thru knee and hip replacements
    And seemed to be able to be independent after 2 or 3 weeks
    A tough customer like sal should be near fledging

    Meantime Dave perhaps bone-up on your Buddhist fundamentals with some of the xtra time

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    • Well…some of those Buddhists are steeped in martial arts….
      Sal has fallen into the category of ‘getting independent’ very, very quickly. We are jettisoning the moho next week and GOING HOME. Wah – bloody – hoo!! I may not have to punch anyone!
      Mind you, punching is still ‘optional’ and there are a few puke-y nurses who could use a ‘physical wake-up call’ but I will likely leave them to their own obvious private hell.
      And I may kiss our surgeon on the lips!

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  3. I was my mothers primary caregiver in her home for the last 2.5 years of her life. I agree, it is the hardest thing I ever did, but also the most rewarding when I look back on it. I am sure Sal appreciates everything you do on a daily, hourly and minute-by-minute basis. – Margy

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    • Oh, she does. She’s very appreciative. Pleasant and gracious, too. And I am VERY, VERY good but I am not ‘nice’. I tend to be a bit of dour person by nature, grumpy at just about everything and grouchy when things do not go well. Grrrrr…….
      My only saving grace is I do not carry anything as baggage. Why would I? There are plenty of things to bug me soon and inevitably coming up. I don’t have to dwell…..wait five minutes or go into a store and well, GGgggrrrrrrrrrrrrrr……………

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      • We are back from Arizona for a month. Rather than one long trip we are taking three little ones. Spent some time around Tucson. I like that better than the Phoenix area unless we are going to Arizona State University games. I even have a tan in February, unheard of here at home. – Margy

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  4. Margy, you should not here admit to a sojourn in the U.S. Not with you-know-who still at the helm. In fact, at the time of this writing, I am penning a missive to wunderkind Trudeau, asking him to take a sympathetic view of refugees from the U.S. We need a few Roxham Roads in every province to enable their free passage by the busload. And hire more RCMP greeters. I think we could see the population of Canada swell to 300 million or so before long.

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