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Tossed Salad Friday

~~ The weekend aide took silverware from our drawer and washed it with dish soap. "Those are clean, you know," I say. "Oh, you can't tell," she replies.

~~ The Monday aide was a giant piece of work. That is. she loomed large and wide, though her brain was seemingly quite undersized. Neither one of us has the time to go through all her quirks, but I will share a few. Such as her being asked not to do a wash so that I could do mine, only to soon see a load of wash spinning round. I confronted her, but she claimed, “The lady poo’ed all over herself.” What could I do but pound one fist into the other a few times and walk away — the patient’s needs are always paramount. Except I didn’t walk far enough to not hear her eventually take the clothes from the dryer and walk them up to her room. Excuse me, but did you wash your own clothes? She looks at me contemptuously, turns on her heel, and lumbers away.

~~ She complains her room is cold, so my husband says he’ll raise the thermostat. He finds that she didn’t sleep in the room and goes to investigate what else could be wrong. What was wrong was that the window was open and it was 40 degrees outside! When I next see her, I inform her that the window was open. “Oh,” she says. “My mind doesn’t go there.” Where the hell is there? Does it take a superior intellect to check the window if a room feels cold?

~~ The dementia patient is screeching at the top of her lungs, so I go to check. In the corner, on a prayer mat and veiled from head-to-toe in a diaphanous fabric, the aide stands rigidly while silently moving her lips. She’s praying while her patient cries out. This happens again a few hours later, so it is apparent that she is both agitating the patient and ignoring the resulting discomfort. Religious accommodation is one thing, but paying no heed multiple times per day to the person you’re charged with watching? That’s not good.

~~ Later on, I need to tell her something. She’s sitting, looking dazed (or empty-headed). As she turns to answer, her right breast falls out of her shirt. OK, never mind. Get out of my house and take that breast with you.

~~ A recent aide returned again on Thanksgiving, so we’ve had three (or is it four?) aides in the space of 10 days. On purpose, arranged by the agency. The same agency who swears this doesn’t happen.

~~ I’m done recounting aide stories for now. It’s just too damn much.

~~ Two women at yoga are discussing plans for Thanksgiving. One is having six people over, the other 11. The six-woman asks, “Are they all big eaters?” The 11-woman snorts, “You could say that. I think they eat their own weight before dessert.”

~~ I don’t know what your Thanksgiving meal was like, but mine was quite nice. Politics was discussed, but not in an incendiary way, as we’re all on the same page. The two most popular discussions were the Knicks and fondue. I had no freaking clue fondue was such a hot topic [wink] but it animated a majority of the table for an extended period. Near as I can figure, chocolate fondue is wildly popular (though not as well liked as “chocolate pudding pie”) and cheese fondue is three steps below pumpkin pie. If you had asked me before Thursday to list what I thought would occupy the conversation, I’d have nailed the politics and Knicks, but would never have imagined a long, lively, and eventually hilarious conversation about dipping skewered food.


Have a great weekend!
J!-E!-T!-S! JETS! JETS! JETS!
LET’S GO RANGERS!
GO, NY KNICKS, GO!

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