Funny things

My PM and AM main attendants are funny. They argue about stupid things like my poop, transferring me, and not taking meat out of the freezer. I drove to the bank Thursday to fix my debit card. It took two hours, but when I returned home I wanted to take a nap. My Pm attendant was upset about laying me down. He had just arrived for his sixteen-hour shift. Then the next day I was replying to a friend. It took an hour to write it. He was angry at me and there was no meat thawed. He yelled at me. Sometimes I go without my PM pills and root beer to let him sleep. I often have to get bus drivers and neighbors to let me in at night. He is tired working eighty hours a week. He is a great guy. I let him. We talk guy talk and watch games. When I try to be assertive, he gets mad. At times I have to scream to wake him up. It is scary, but I live with it. The agency doesn’t know. I don’t want to complain. A year ago I was told that I didn’t respect my staff by my former agency and no one wanted to work with me. Going hungry and not having a shower for a week at times made an indelible impression on my mind. I treasure my home, but I know I will have to return to a group home someday. I’m independent and an author. I have to do things when there is a problem. It is all on me. Then I’m making big decisions with my career. My staff doesn’t understand what I’m doing. It is frustrating. I’m living life. Care will always be a problem. 

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