This morning at 4AM, the crazy woman across the hall started yelling nonstop because a CNA displeased her in some way. Of course, she felt compelled to wake everyone on this hall with her Big Mouth; my door was closed, but her bitching was so loud I heard her anyway. The other woman in that room is also a nut, who stays up all night listening to TV and gradually increasing the volume until it also disturbs me. Both of ’em belong in Fort Logan, on heavy doses of Xanax.
My so-called Care Conference on Wednesday was a waste of time, but I’m happy that nothing was said about booting me out. I frankly told them that if I felt I’d be able to survive living as a homeless camper again, I’d have already walked out the door. They were unaware that I don’t receive monthly benefits from any source, from which I’d get $84 after they take the rest. I figure they make enough off of this Cash Cow as is, with Health First Colorado a.k.a. Medicaid paying 100% of the costs of my imprisonment. At least the black racist social services director kept her stupid mouth shut, and will apparently leave me be in the future.
One good thing is that I’m able to get BACON for breakfast most mornings. I just wish they’d learn what a hard-fried egg is; mine usually have runny yolks. I’m so starved because of the skimpy portions served that I eat everything on my plate, whether it’s what I ordered or not. (I ate better living outdoors, using donations from friendly passersby to buy food at King Soopers.)
My roommate continues to be a worthless lump. One of the staff physicians tried to discuss his wound, an incision from back surgery two months ago which stubbornly refuses to heal, and Trazodone Man launched into an irrelevant tale from childhood about his bouts with ear infections back in the ’50s. I can’t see any indication that he actually wants to get better, at least to the point where he could get out of bed and into his wheelchair to go to the toilet and elsewhere in the facility. (I’d rather be dead than as helpless as some of these lazy louts, who choose to wallow in their misery.)
I will say it would be nice to receive a “care package” with various snacks like vienna sausages, dry roasted peanuts, Milky Way candy bars, and crunchy Cheetos. Folks are too busy these days to ship anything to me, and UN relief workers haven’t returned to Hungry Asylum since I cursed ’em out as a bunch of queers and commies . . .
TCM is running Tarzan the Ape Man from 1932 now, with Johnny Weissmuller and Maureen O’Sullivan in the lead roles, so I’ll wrap up this post.