3 – 6:30.
Started 8 in the morning.
After I got home from work.
First time ‘home’ is used.
– it’s home.
– this is, after all, where I lay my bones.
The point was: work.
I feel like shit.
Coffee makes me feel worse.
Might be a water diet coming up soon.
Work with dementia patients.
Now. At a retirement home.
In the special care wing.
40 minute drive to and from work.
This will kill the bank account.
I work three days a week.
Four days to recover.
11 – 7.
Go to work at night,
Come home in the morning.
Wake up in time for lunch.
Many of the patients bring a smile to my face,
Even Len the one who hates me,
Pushing his walker in front,
Suspicious of what I'm up to;
Ready to ram me any chance possible.
Twitter I've become frustrated with;
Depressing to see the sickness in the world,
Depressing to think I can do nothing about it.
This is a place where I feel I can do some good in the world.
If I bring happiness to the patients
They bring happiness to me,
– the egoist in action.
There are times I feel like my father: suspicious concerns about what others might think of me; there are times I feel like my brother: smug satisfaction in thinking I'm right; but mostly I feel like my mother: feeling the pain and loss of a world that separates us from the happiness we most desire.
Some updates to keep me updated.