Oh, are you going back to bed?
She said
Am I 'changing' you?
Are we doing personal care?
I have to 'do' Val next.
Like a conveyor belt of the graciously disabled
waiting for the luxury of being clean
in an allocated time slot
(or one hour either side)
What are you eating? A ready meal?
Other carers wouldn't do this you know.
It's just me. You'll miss me when I'm gone.
The office say I'm spoiling you.
You're a young man, you should try harder.
Guilt.
We don't want you to become dependent.
Shame.
We've never dealt with anyone like you before.
You have to think of the carers you know
it's unsafe to walk at night.
I'm doing you a favour coming so late.
(so I can come early if I'm going out)
Is it selfish not to want to hear about your life,
your mortgage, your insecurities?
Is it unreasonable to expect my comfort to come first,
And for you not to raise your voice?
