DONATING TO A NONPROFIT IS NOT THE SAME AS HELPING THE HOMELESS! (AND IF I WERE A BETTER TEACHER YOU’D ALL UNDERSTAND THAT BY NOW)
By Max R. Weller
Stronger than before?
(Note to Roger O, who left this comment here on my blog: “Hey Max. I’ve got a zero-degree North Face sleeping bag and a spare thermos that you are welcome to have. The bag has synthetic filling and not down, so it is a bit bulky but it should stay somewhat warm if the filling becomes wet for any reason.” Roger, please drop these items by to Room 703A at [Dickens] Manor, 4685 Baseline Rd. in Boulder, before next Friday, 10/7/2016. Other kindhearted folks who are inclined to contribute to my cause of Winter Survival can also visit me here. Thanks so much to everyone!)
In view of the $35,000+ that this nursing home has received for my “care” in the five months I’ve been here, I’m NOT going to feel at all guilty for stealing a couple of blankets and maybe a pillow, too. It WILL bother me to swipe a shopping cart belonging to Safeway nearby, to tote around all of my stuff (I’ve long since given up my locker at Boulder Shelter for the Homeless, and it’s very unlikely one will be available after they open on 10/1), but I can look out the window here at Meadows Branch Library and see one abandoned. Finders keepers . . .
Right before I left the Manor to walk over to the library, Dilaudid Man was whining again to the RN on duty in our West hall about the Physician on staff NOT having seen him in a month. (I would take this as a Good Sign, rather than a cause for concern and complaint.) DM is the guy who almost never leaves his room except to obtain his doses of Dilaudid and other narcotic painkillers (he had a fentanyl patch at one time), and he was so upset this morning that he said, “This is just a very expensive cheap motel!” As he rolled himself away in his wheelchair I remarked that you have to pay for dope in a cheap motel, but I guess he didn’t hear me. The cute little Asian Nurse did hear, and she turned around to me and flashed a great big smile . . . They know about the wheelchair fakers and pill junkies in Boulder Manor better than anyone.
My roommate, who was recovering from a stroke which paralyzed his right side and disrupted his power of speech, seems now to be getting worse and I think he’s given up hope. Despite all of the morphine they give him, he literally screams in pain every time a CNA changes his adult diaper or the Physical Therapist wants to get him into his wheelchair and take him to the Gym for some much-needed exercise. All Roommate wants to do, it seems, is sleep all day and watch his Kindle all night, if he can. However, last night the CNAs didn’t give him this annoying electronic device when they put him into bed — and after listening to him spend twenty minutes or so repeating the refrain of “I can’t find it” (which means almost anything, given his speech deficit) — I managed to get a good night’s sleep. Almost, but not quite, as good as I’ll enjoy when I get back to sleeping outside. Roommate’s woman is NOT helping matters by keeping him up until all hours, NOR can she persuade him to take a shower.
Next Friday morning, 10/7. I’ll be all packed up and ready to go:
Better than a walker, because you can load all sorts of gear into a shopping cart.
I never thought I’d become a Shopping Cart Guy, but things have worked out that way, it would appear . . . If I have to walk all the way back to the old neighborhood around N. Broadway & U.S. 36, that will be a challenge. I did walk about a mile altogether yesterday, and had no muscle soreness in my legs this morning, so maybe I can make it in a day, with frequent rest stops, as it’s probably about 6 or 7 miles. Ibuprofen, as always, will have to be sufficient for the chronic pain of my arthritic hip.