In our last episode I said I was done. Well, I’m even more doner now.
After all this time it seems that auntie and I finally have something in common; we’re both done. But our “done”s are pretty different.
Remember Auntie said she was going to take mom to lunch? Of course you don’t. No one is reading this shit. Well guess what, when I asked her what time she went on radio silence.
Then I tried to explain the spoon thing again despite the fact I know it throws her into a rage. She literally disowned me the first and only time I gave it a subtle shot.
Did that sound condescending?
I really tried my hardest. This is the first text I sent her without running it by anyone to proofread for anything that could be construed as insulting. I just went with how I write formal emails. Unless she wants me to speak in AAVE I have no other options.
And it would just be my luck that she would trick me into something racist like that.
She recently texted me asking for the infamous door alarm.
That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say because then no one heard from her and like three days later her daughter, whose name I censored first, showed up one afternoon for it but said she couldn’t stay because her kids were in the car. It really made mom depressed because she was so excited to see her. It’s heart wrenching.
So, I guess when auntie said that she was done what she meant was done sticking the knife in but not twisting it.
I’m fucking done.
Like I said, I don’t think about my auntie unless someone brings her up but that void was quickly filled with IHSS.
And now I’m done with them.
I still have not heard from my caseworker/social worker. Let’s call her Amy Hoe. The one time she talked to me all she did was whine about how hard she used to work before she “got burned too many times.”
She did call once but I was here alone with mom and couldn’t get the phone. I then left multiple messages, all sugary and sweet like last time, apologizing for missing the call and I left my phone number, my address, and my email address. Each week. I left messages in every department, trying to find someone who will least call me back about how to get more hours my caretakers. No one called.
It’s been a month.
11 days ago someone from payroll accidentally picked up and told me to call Amy Hoe. I know better than to talk shit so I told her that Amy Hoe said she would be “out on the field” for three months. She insisted and I hesitantly, and awkwardly, said, “um she said she was going to be busy and I haven’t gotten her to call me back so I was wondering who I can speak to instead in the time being?” No dice. “I really do think she was serious about being out of contact. She seemed pretty stressed. I know it’s hard; social work is horrible. She just said she was little burnt out by going out of her way for people.”
Dice on fire.
How is that insulting? I was obviously choosing my words carefully (badly) but the chick isn’t responsible for going out of her way so long as she acknowledges that it was her choice. Bad things always happen to good people.
I’m not dumb, I know this sounded insulting but she was trying to hang up and this is the first I had spoken to anyone in a month and all that happened then was a promise to call me back.
Apparently they are BFF because she immediately shouted, “she would never say something like that!”
I said, “well she did.” She tried to bite her tongue and said “that doesn’t sound like something she’d say.” And immediately transferred me to someone’s voicemail.
Idea for a movie: IHSS is actually a secret government agency that gas lights the most impoverished citizens as a way for the Illuminati to make turn America into inspirational porn to broadcast to the aliens.
I hired that caretaker I was going to interview. Let’s call her Princess. She’s in her mid-20s and she acts like it. Savage rightfully pointed out that she was both unaware and reckless with her white privilege by saying, “she’s white.”
She really is a nice girl but she actually told me she misses high school.
What do you say to that?
All I could come up with at the time was, “ew.”
So what did that payroll lady do? She connected me to some guy’s office whom, she made sure to point out, wasn’t there so I would have to leave a message. It turned out to be a supervisor who called me back pretty quickly and was very apologetic. He seemed nice but I’m smart enough not to trust anyone. Ever. About anything. Ever again. He helpfully told me things that I should ask Amy Hoe about when she does a home visit, which would be soon or he would do it himself or… Oh, Amy Hoe never came out and never spoke to me other than that one phone call in and entire year? Then he looked at my file to see who had come out and it was that guy.
That guy, that superduper supervisor everyone at IHSS stands on their desks and recites O Captain! my Captain! to was the one that came out. The one that told me that IHSS would give me back pay and lost me thousands of dollars which, of course, is on one of my maxed out credit cards. He laughingly suggested that that guy should be the one to come out again.
I emphatically asked him not to reprimand Amy Hoe, twice. I’m not trying to start any trouble. I’ll do whatever. I’d suck a dick for some basic human rights.
Yesterday the was Friday before Labor Day weekend and I was over with the world. This is always a hard three day weekend for me and not just because of the labor irony, this is the weekend they used to play the MDA marathon but thank God this year Jerry Lewis is dead.
I meant to be facetious, the only time I ever knew it was Labor Day weekend was if someone told me directly but this year it was different. Maybe because everyone left so this was the first weekend in a long time that it was just me and my broken wheelchair.
Did I mention my wheelchair is broken? It’s been broken since before I even started this blog and I’m still fighting with insurance. I’m extra crippled so I use this electric chair and now it only holds a charge for about an hour or two of actual movement; this is a big reason I only eat once a day and even then sometimes I don’t bother. BTW, this is why you should be kicked in the kidneys if you’ve ever used the phrase “wheelchair-bound.
Did I check the battery? Of course I fucking did. That’s as stupid as asking someone if they restarted their computer. I’m a professional cripple™ so I think I know what I’m doing.
Except that I rolled the dice and put out for a new battery on my credit card when the insurance wasn’t going to do anything, then it turned out to be the actual wheelchair that had finally died.
My wheelchair is over 10 years old.
You are supposed to get a new one more often than that but the last time I needed to replace this wheelchair this mother fucker the salesman did exactly what I knew he would, exactly what all of those people do, fucked me because he was on commission. He ordered the most expensive thing and added everything he could despite my specifically saying not to put anything on the order after it was out of my sight. I couldn’t even sit in the thing because as soon as I did I would slide out. There was so much machinery around me that I couldn’t have driven it if I wanted to. I insisted he take it back with him. I had to yell at him before he took it. He told me I couldn’t get another one and he was right.
They told me I had to wait five more years and here I am.
Here I am…
I called This Dude at 3 o’clock Friday morning, spit out all the serial numbers stamped on me, and explained why I was up at 3 o’clock in the morning. My caretakers have too little hours. My mom is getting worse. I’m getting worse. I have to stay up all night to keep mom from leaving the house even though all I can do is sit in front of the door. With no assistance I hadn’t been able to go to the bathroom in 12 hours.
Then my voice broke so if I had pulled off sounding like I wasn’t crying it was game over. I quickly asked him to call me back and got off the phone.
This “nice guy” never called me back, of course. No one did. It’s been a little over a week.
When I first got that call from Nice Guy everyone was so excited but I kept telling them not to get their hopes up and lookie lookie here, I was right. It wasn’t just pessimism. But pessimism had a lot to do with it.
PS. Because of some paperwork auntie took from me back in what they tell me was May I owe Social Security $800 for the error and my disability is still $3.
This a gas chamber reeks of pessimus.