The Mean One was on a rampage tonight. I spent a good 15 minutes with 2 CNAs trying to herd him into the bathroom so we could clean the poop off his balls.
He knew he needed the bathroom, but didn’t really know what to do once he got there. The bewildered look of a dog that’s finally caught the car bumper comes to mind.
Earlier, he stiffly set his cup of cocoa down to turn to me and say (more clearly than anything else he had said) “I have to shit.” But then once he got in the bathroom, he would not sit on the toilet when I pointed it out. It didn’t really matter, because he had already clearly filled his brief, so I asked him to sit so I could help him get cleaned up. Instead, he insisted on taking his gown off, and became very angry when he couldn’t figure out how to open it from the front. I lifted the front of it off and he threw it angrily on the floor.
He would not sit on the toilet but he did manage to get his stool-filled brief off. He continued to escalate, as I tried to clean him up, so eventually I gave up and backed off. He stood stooped there in the bathroom like a defiant 5-year-old who had just won the tantrum, wearing only yellow traction socks and a lot of poop.
So I called for help. One lovely CNA came to my rescue and I didn’t even say anything when she opened the door. She slowly swept her gaze across the scene and, registering the loose poop dripping from his ballsack - she instantly joined me in battle.
We cajoled him to let us clean him up, but he wasn’t having it. He was swiping at us here and there, so: like matadors we danced around him waving bath wipes trying to run one between his legs before he swung an arm. I dodged an ill-aimed fist to swipe a wipe, pivoted on one foot and landed my three-pointer in the trashcan. Nothin’ but net. The crowd in my head went wild.
They’ve simmered down a little, the Mean One in Bed B and his roommate in Bed A. Now they are doing the chatter thing that little boys do- talking about everything and nothing, and occasionally responding to eachother. But- it’s not cute toddler confabulation, it’s word salad.
May I regale you with the last 10 minutes worth of the verbal reparteé?
A: “Excuse me! Where did that jeffecoffits came along? What else are you getting to?”
B: “Mary Mary Mary Mary whew!”
A: “Dear, I love you!”
A: “Yes but this there befriender the apron!”
B: “Mother. Mother. (Helicopter sound effects)”
A: “WHY BELL WHY BELL WHY BELL WHY! Hey Jack, where you got your dick from?”
B: “Have to sharp my own knife. The other other other other ones.”
A: “There are many jewelry! You had to big explode the exploder!”
B: “28, 21, 56, 28, 71, 71, 56…”
A: “So whattaya gotta be? Someda hava ranger?”
B: “78 71 76”
A: “I like you!”
B: “Shut up.”
A: I like you my dog.”
B: “Shut up I said.”
A: “Oh man did I got a bad death tonight.”
B: “73 86 78 71 76”
B: “Double giant tire. Tum thumb thumb thumbthumbthumb”
A: loud fart
B: “Shut up.”
A: “Wait’ll he smell his bandry!”
Oh man did I get a bad assignment tonight.
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