I saw my sister and cousin over Thanksgiving.  .I see them three times a year.  My new care program allows me to visit my sister four times a year.  The old care program wouldn’t pay to see my sister.  The last time that I saw my nieces was Christmas.  That’s a lifetime for most people to not to see their family.  My sister did visit me in the hospital.  It isn’t like I see my family a lot.    They criticized me for how I live my life.  “Be nice to your care attendants,” my cousin tells me after speaking to my case manager said that I sometimes yell at my staff.  I only yell when my attendants don’t do their jobs like not washing the laundry, supper isn’t cooked, or there are no Depends to wear.  That’s my life at times.  I don’t scream all day like my new roommate does.  Working the way I do, I have expectations for my staff to fulfill.  I always disappoint my family like not getting a procedure on my colon when I was in the hospital.  Being in the hospital alone and in pain you follow the doctor’s orders without asking questions.  I do the best that I can do.  There is nothing to apologize for.

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Ups, downs, options

November 21, 2018

My new roommate will return to Mendota this week after moving to an apartment.  He will be evicted for causing disturbances and biting care attendants.  My care agency can’t take care of him.  He is mentally incompetent.  It’s sad.  He will die someday alone in the institution still screaming at the world.  He is unable of making a decision.   I turned down the book offer from New York.  The publisher wanted an advance of $3,100 to publish the book.  My agent warned me that the publisher was bad.  I didn’t want to believe her, but I took the contract out of the mailbox before the mailman came.  A couple of authors confirm my suspicion about the publisher and I threw the contract in the trash.  It was New York.  Self-publishing has ruined traditional publishing.  Anyone can publish a book these days.  It was the right decision.  Keep writing, Steve.  That’s what my friend, Lisa would say.  I have an agent and another book is in the works.  I will succeed.  I’m lucky to be mentally alert.

Roommates

November 13, 2018

When I arrived home from the hospital, my new roommate greeted me by yelling for help.  All he does is scream.  Day and night he screams.  He falls out of the bed or his manual wheelchair on purpose like a child when he wants something. He used to live in an institution.  That’s where he needs to be.  Mentally his mind is shot.  He yells when he doesn’t get his way.  No reasoning works with him.  He suffered a brain injury from a car accident.  My heart goes out to him even though I want to kill him.  He only eats sloppy joes and applesauce.  Today he will move to his own house where he can scream all he wants.  He will be hidden away in his own little world.  I went out this weekend and I saw friends after being bedridden for ten days in the hospital.  Being alone in the hospital made me question myself. I did it. The sad part is my roommate’s life is essentially over.  His family is scattered across the country like mine.  He has no friends.  Maybe I’m fooling myself.  I will probably die soon.  That is how it is in a group home.  Clients moved in to slowly die.  But I will keep moving forward.  I will keep writing.

I’m Burdock

November 8, 2018

There hasn’t been a posting from me for two weeks.  I was in the hospital compacted with stool.  For over a week I lay in bed, defecating in my room watching TV and political commercials.   Ten days alone in the hospital, listening to politicians promising to cover people with preexisiting conditions, including governor Walker.  Walker cuts long-term care with people with disabilities.  I made sure that I voted.  In fact I was still in my pajamas from the hospital when I drove my electric wheelchair several blocks to the voting place.  I nagged my doctor to release me so I could vote. I drove the electric wheelchair in the dark and cold with my case manager following me in her car.  Nothing stops me.  My case manager was late calling the bus and there was no ride.  I got in the electric wheelchair when I returned from the hospital.  I’m burdock, Governor Walker, but you know that.  I don’t quit like you.  Try drinking three gallons of Go Lite in three days, defecating for a week without a bite to eat for eight days.  I wanted to give up but I didn’t.  I did it.  So Governor, let me write your memoir.  I will do it in two years for an appearance on CNN.  I’m burdock.  Thank you English family.  Without you I’m nothing.  You’re the best. 
 
steve