He conquered a skin cancer, a very pernicious one at that, and just when things were rosey as can be, some other demon attacked from the rear. (and I do mean the rear)
Five days in bed and he is shouting and yelling to beat the band.
I had five or six warnings from his wife as to all the horrible things he was saying about me and blaming me for. He never says them to me, just to her. I doubt he says them at all, I fancy he more likely shrieks them. I went into his bedroom and greeted him heartily.
"Heya old farte! I hear things aren't the greatest today."
"Aren't the greatest?" He was roaring, not talking. He lifted his head off the pillow and summoned every ounce of anger and yelled at me: "They are THE SHITS!"
"No Bill, you only wish they were the shits. The trouble with not crapping is that you feel like crap all right."
He had to laugh in spite of himself.
"Well kid you said it. I feel like crap. I can't shit. No matter what I do."
We talked about dogs and stupid Nurses and a few other things and then I left.
At least he THOUGHT I left. I was actually out in the living room telling his wife that I would think it quite reasonable of her to ask the Doctor VERY STRONGLY to put Bill in convalescent care. It is not reasonable for the HealthCare system to expect an 86 yr old woman, 4 foot 11 and 80 pounds to be the primary Care provider to a man over 6 foot 3 with bowel trouble.
We administer enemas and we stay a little while but eventually we have to leave. Who is going to clean up if he actually gets a result? It really is not reasonable at all.
The part of me that sees conspiracy everywhere honestly believes that the Government is BANKING on the moral terpitude of Bill's generation. They do not rock the boat. They do as much as they can on their own considering it their duty and obligation. Unless Bill's wife does something soon, it is entirely likely that she will continue to be yelled at and blamed for every pain he feels. Unfortunatly Bills sees her as a workhorse. After all, he married her didnt he?
I love Bill to bits. He was yelling at her to get the hell in there so motioning her to stay seated, I went in to see ole Mr. Snarly.
"Oh , I thought you were gone."
"I can see that crankypants.. Do you need something?"
"What did you just call me? Cranky? I aint cranky! I am PISSED OFF. I been lying here in my own shit waiting for YOU WOMEN to stop yer yah-ing and help me."
"Bill I already did that. You are clean as a whistle."
"Well dammit get the olde woman down here."
"I am here."
"Not you.... HER. What's she doing? Sitting talking I bet. I told her and told her that talking is no good for you. But does she listen? Tell her to get DOWN HERE NOW."
"Bill.... you have to rest for awhile. I will tell your wife not to disturb you."
"The HELL YOU WILL!"
"The hell I already did. I told her not to disturb you for at least an hour."
"You bloody bossy Nurses."
"So they tell me!"
"Dammit girl, I want to hate you. But bless you heart you are a fine woman my dear."
I went to the car and got my dog who was with me.
I took him into Bill's bedroom and sat on the bed. My doggie licked Bill's hand, arm and then face. We left him smiling .
God bless you Bill you olde farte.
You better not be a beast tomorrow. Or else.
============
“...Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
