Banter with the one resthome resident who wants to die.

The other week at the resthome, I was assisting the one resthome resident who wants to die, and my thermos fell out of my pocket and landed on the floor with a big metallic CLANG and then rolled off and away under her TV set bureau.

"Ugh," I was like, imitating her, "Look at me, I drop everything."

"Yes," she was like, "But you can pick it up again."

. . .

Knowledge gap of one (Tibetan) coworker.

The other week at the resthome, we were getting our staff meal after the residents were served, and the choice of soup was tomato or gazpacho.

"Gazpacho, what is that?", my one (older) (Tibetan) coworker was like.

. . .

She's in her sixties and has lived long enough in the U.S. to buy a house, but she simply must run in different circles from those that gazpacho is known in.

A person on the subway the other week at like 1am on a Saturday:

In a car with a lot of (younger) (white) and a few (Latino) kids all dressed up and coming from some EDM concert, a (scrawny) (30-something) (strung out) (white) guy with a huge smudge of blood on his face by the right corner of his mouth and also with large and open but somehow clean gashes in his arm like from a knife, who's speaking loudly and harrassing this (young 20s) (hipster) (possibly gay) (black) guy, asking him over and over again for just one cigarette.

"My life is like this!", he was like, pointing to the open gashes on his arms. "A cigarette would make me feel better.  Just one cigarette, man, that's all I'm asking!".

And, he said variations of that a few times, with erratic and sometimes long silences in between.

Eventually, he got off at a stop somewhere near downtown.

"I'm glad he's gone," someone said into the quiet of the car after he got off and the doors had closed.

And, everyone let out a breath and began talking.

"I didn't know what the fuck was going on with him," the (young) (possibly gay) (black) kid was like.  "And then he showed me those cuts in his arms!".

. . .

(From a distance, the cuts seemed healed over like there wasn't any bleeding or anything, yet it was like the skin had been pulled back on each side in a pointed ovalish slit, like from a clean cut where the skin had burst open but had never been pulled together to heal, or something like that.  It was weird.)

A new (Ethiopian) coworker.

So, this past month a new (Ethiopian) coworker started up, who's younger and thin and very dark and very very quiet.

So, me and her were talking some when our one (older) (stockier) (Tibetan) coworker was in the room, and for some reason our (Tibetan) coworker burst in and was like, "She likes country music."

And, we began talking, and it turns out that when she was in college in Ethiopia, she came across Don Williams on YouTube and became a country music fan.

I mentioned Dolly Parton and Johnny Cash, and she didn't know their names, but then she mentioned some name that I hadn't heard of.

"You should go to Nashville," I was like.

"What?", she was like, so I wrote the word out on a piece of paper and explained it to her.

"But she have baby!", my one (Tibetan) coworker was like.

"Are you married?", I was like.

"Yes," she was like.

"Do you have family here, or does your husband have family here?", I was like.

"Yes," she was like.

"Then your family will take care of your baby, go on vacation with your husband," I was like. "Tell him you want a vacation, and make him arrange the money and the hotels and the childcare."

"Easy to say, hard to do," my one (Tibetan) coworker was like.

Then, she was like, "You take care of the baby," and laughed.

I then talked more with my one (quiet) (new) (Ethiopian) coworker, and it turns out that she's only been in the country like three months.

Afterwards, I realized that I had forgotten to tell her about the new Ken Burns documentary series on country music.  I'll have to do that the next time that I work.  Maybe she'll watch, and if she does, I'm kind of interested to hear what she says. I wonder if she's realized yet how white it is?  Though, my one (edgy) (Ethiopian) coworker talks about herself and (American) black people as something different, so maybe she doesn't think about things quite that way.

Conversation with two housekeepers at the resthome.

The other week at the resthome I delivered mail to the door of one resident who's on hospice, and afterwards in the hallway I saw two housekeepers standing there, one (Mexican) and one (Tibetan).

"How is she doing?", the one (Mexican) housekeeper asked me.

"I'm not sure," I was like, "Her one hospice aide answered the door."

Then, I was like, "I can't believe she's dying."

"Why are you surprised?", the one (Tibetan) housekeeper was like.  "People die."

Then, when I didn't say anything, she was like, "You don't know, I could die today, I could die this afternoon, I could die tomorrow, people die."

She didn't seem morbid at all, and she was even was a bit chipper in her voice.

I'm assuming she was channeling some Buddhist stuff.

Tiered healthcare.

Two summers ago, I was catching up with a guy from the neighborhood who I know and I was saying how much I liked working in assisted living, and the subject of private nursing homes and Medicaid reimbursements came up.

His company had done PR work for some nursing home chains, and he was saying that the trouble is that some private homes do indeed give better care, but those ones forego Medicaid reimbursements, so it's only richer folks who are in them and who get those staffing levels, which I think is true, I don't think he was lying.

Anyhow, like last month I visited my uncle when he was in the hospital for minor surgery, and his place was very chi-chi and he even had a menu where he could order his meals from the kitchen and they'd make it up fresh and bring it to him within like forty-five minutes.

It had stuff like chicken sandwiches and "Catch of the Day" fish and meatloaf and mac 'n' cheese (with a heart healthy version!) on it, and that shit was just insane.

He also said a nurse had told him that the staff there was trying to unionize.

I wonder how much money that place took in, and in any case it seems like another example of tiered healthcare.

Somehow I don't think I'm going to get that level of care there or at the place I work at by the time I get old (if I get old! - people do die young all the time, and you never can tell who will go), unless something changes radically with the economy and social service provision.

It's been straight to the bottom with me.

A lovely sharing of photos.

Last month, my one client with disabilities and her (lesbian) sister went to a local Climate Strike march, which I didn't go to, and afterwards they showed me these photos that they had taken of all the best signs.

It was wonderful, since I always love to look at fun signs at marches.

"And look at the ass on her," the one (lesbian) sister was like, pointing to a woman in the background of a photo of another person holding a sign.

"So that's why you wore sunglasses," I was like, "So you could check out women's asses and not come off as a perv."

"No," she was like, "But it is a side benefit.  Look at her, she's gorgeous."