Small Complaints

I don't have much to complain about when it comes to my caregivers. Nonetheless, I can find something. I'm talented that way; I have the ability to find something wrong in almost every situation. I am a risk finder. Still, truth is truth. The reality is that most of my care giver complaints are not directed at the care givers at all, but at the organizations behind them. The agency I am compelled to deal with is rife with internal incompetence. So it should come as no surprise that small amounts of this drip over on the the HCA's. So here goes.

Why do my caregivers all seem to find "special" places for things I use in my daily life. They put the cutlery in the utensil drawer. They put the big knives in the cutlery drawer. They put mixing bowls in with the cereal bowls. Now mostly these are just small irritations. Yet even with the labels on the cupboard doors, they all get it wrong on a regular basis. I swear sometimes they hide things on purpose, just to get me active in searching for them, like some kind of exercise plan.

Catheters. I use two condom catheters a day. No problem. Take it off of me and throw it in the garbage. Put one on me, and throw the little blue pull tab on the floor, or on the bed, or on the dresser, but rarely in the garbage. I find these little suckers all over the place, and they are almost impossible for me to pick up with my grabby stick. There is one on the floor in front of my dresser right now, and it's been there for several days. They seem to become invisible to HCA eyes once they hit the floor, or the dresser, or the bed, and so on, and so on, and so on.

Catheters, part duex. How come the HCA's can't agree on a place for my in/out catheters after first use. We use them twice a day, once in the morning and once at night. My HCA's seem to take some bizarre pleasure out of putting them in a different place every morning, leaving the night care giver to hunt around the bathroom, my bedroom, the kitchen, and so on, and so on, and so on.

How come my HCA's get to see me naked every single day, and yet I never get to see them naked. After all, fair is fair, right? On the other hand I have to pay them in order to get them to deal with my whale sized body. It must be awful for them to deal with my various unruly body parts. Still, if they were to pay me, I think I could return the favour. No?

Okay, perhaps I went a bit too far. I really shouldn't complain about anything. After all, it doesn't really help. I can teach them about utensil placement. I can get them coordinated on catheter containment. I doubt any amount of encouragement will help with the naked thing. Oh well. Tomorrow is another day.