Rank: Admiral OCD
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(Hmm. This turned out to be another epic-length post. Have way too much time on my hands when i go for walks.)
So you all know that I go on daily walks to try to regain my girlish figure. Well, my walks take me past a convalescent home. For our foreign readers, that's the place where Americans put old people to be taken care of by someone else until they die. Basically, they go there to wait to die.
Today I noticed an ambulance and a firetruck pull into the driveway leading to the home. They did not have their lights on, and they were not in any hurry. That happens a lot at these homes.
It is kind of a sad way to go when you're old, lying in a bed in an institutional setting, with none of your loved ones around I thought.
Then I had a flashback memory of the place. You see, I actually knew someone who lived there. She was the woman who took care of my friend's kids long ago when they were little. My friend was instrumental in getting her into the home when the woman fell and broke her hip, or more likely, her hip broke and she fell.
Her husband and most of her family were dead. She had some really distant cousins on the east coast that she sort of knew, but she was pretty much alone. Her mind was what you would expect of an 80-year-old, but she was by no means out of it. After the hip operation there was no one around to take care of her and she and my friend came up with the plan to put her in the home. My friend got involved because that was the only person this woman could remember as being someone to contact in case of an emergency.
So she went to live in this home to recover. She got better, was able to walk a little bit, but still needed care. My friend would go visit her and I went along as a favor because the more people that came to visit, the less of a routine it was to live there. It was the human thing to do, my friend would say.
Once my friend went on vacation and enlisted a few of us to visit her on a schedule while she was gone. The old woman really liked when my dog came to visit - all those old people did. But this time I did not bring the dog, and it was the first time that I went without my friend. Holy fuck, I must have come on loony-pill day.
You walk into this place and you sign in to the roster as a visitor. At that moment, probably a dozen or so old people look up in frenzied anticipation from their puzzle making or general drooling all over themselves, to see if it's someone that has come to visit them.
I had never noticed that before, but they are all really sad when it's not a visitor for them. I got the impression that not many visitors come, (not even their kids) and they kinda hang out in the rec room in the front of the building, kinda like hookers on parade waiting for a John, any John.
So I walk past and wave, and they all wave back frantically. One even picks up the puzzle he was working on to show it to me, mumbling something as his false teeth pop out of his mouth and onto his gown. Oh so very fucking sad. I wave again and keep walking.
Then I go past this one room where there's this really frail woman who is in a wheel chair. Usually there's a staff member watching her as she is parked just inside the door to her room. She usually has a bent wrist and waives her curled fingers as they shake with what has to be Parkinson's. She usually says something like "Uhn-uhn! Uhn-uhn! Uhn!"
This time there was no one there and she had gotten out into the hallway and there was sort of a rolling laundry bin creating a bottleneck between me and her.
So I had to walk a lot closer to her than I usually do. She starts Uhning at me as I try to pass, then starts grabbing at me. Only she can't really control what she's doing and she manages to pinch my legs, back and arms a couple of times before I can get away from her. "Uhn! Uhn! Uhhhhn!!!"
So I get to the woman I know, let's call her "Mary," -I get to Mary's room and I have to go through the whole, "hi, how are you. Me? I'm Cantrip, I'm so-and-so's friend remember? Oh, yes you do, great, so you need your pillow fluffed or the channel changed?"
-See, she would have TV remote warz with her roommate, a mean old bitch, oh, let's call her "GrumpyGrandma" who was bitter and cranky. She wouldn't let Mary watch her soap operas like she wanted. I went on like that with idle chit-chat for about fifteen minutes and then had to walk the gauntlet of pinching and drooling old people. I swore I would never go into that place alone again.
One day we went to visit Mary and she was watching her soap opera. "Oh," we asked, "you and GrumpyGrandma have settled your differences and agreed to share the remote?"
"No," says Mary, "GrumpyGrandma had another stroke earlier in the month and she can't speak, can't move her right side and can barely move her left side, and best of all, she can't get up."
So Mary had complete control of the remote from that point on. GrumpyGrandma said many times that she hated Jerry Springer the most. Mary would turn to that program whenever it was on, turn up the volume, and would leave the room.
So, every now and then an old dude, let's call him "John," would show up to visit Mary. See, John actually had a room in another convalescent home elsewhere, but kept one in the home Mary was in because he was, for lack of a better word, a player. He must have been about 80, but the dude would make his rounds at his other home with all his bitches, then come to Mary's and visit her, and some other bitches in another wing that Mary didn't know about. Dude had hella bitches everywhere.
He would say shit like, "Yeah, Mary, I knew her many years ago . . . " Only, he hadn't met her until a few weeks before.
You've all heard the stories where kids send grandma or grandpa to a home and get all freaked out when they come to visit and the door is locked and gramps or gammy is clearly making the beast with two backs with some other geriatric from down the hall. Kids bang on the door, demand that the staff open the door, but the staff can't and won't; these people are adults and as gross as it may be to the kids, they can fuck if they want.
So I'm not going to tell you a story about that, but I will tell you that my friend calls me after visiting her one time. Mary's door was open and my friend was just about to walk in when she heard John's voice and Mary laughing. Not wanting to disturb them, she stands by the open door to see if it's okay to intrude she pokes her head in and there's John with his hand inside Mary's blouse, copping a feel.
So she backs out, embarrassed. She hears a loud smack of what can only be old people kissing. Kinda like the sound of old rubberbands slapping together. Then she hears Mary say to John, "Oh, John, I want you inside me." Eww. Though she was certain that John was not going to mount her right then, my friend left and came back the next day.
So I ask my friend when she's finished recounting the story, where the hell was GrumpyGrandma while this was going on? Turns out GrumpyGrandma had gotten worse in the speech department - she couldn't talk at all, but could understand everything that was going on around her. She also had even less control of the side that was wasn't completely paralyzed.
So while this smooching was going on, with the wanting of John being inside Mary make-out session, poor GrumpyGrandma was in the next bed, with the curtain drawn for privacy, not being able to say a word or being able to get up, or push the button for the nursing staff.
Yeah, it sucked to be GrumpyGrandma at that moment I bet ya. Karma's a bitch.
So, that was the memory, triggered by the ambulance and the paramedics. No flashing lights or sirens meant that another old person had died in the home and they were just there to take the body away so yet another old person could take his or her place there to await death.
I remember getting a call from my friend at about five in the morning one day, explaining that Mary had passed away. She wasn't crying for the sake of loosing a loved one really, but that someone she knew had died and she was crying a little bit out of a sense of humanity. I didn't know her all that well and it didn't affect me other than my saying that was sad.
So that was the end of that chapter. Mary had pre-paid funeral arrangements. She had a ceremony attended by my friend and the pastor - I wasn't in town when it happened and none of her distant relatives came or even cared. Everyone else she knew was dead.
The funeral home had asked my friend if she could bring her a bra, as they had a dress to bury her in, but no bra. I suggested she go to Victoria's Secret for some super-sexy wonder bra, 'cause I'm a sick fuck, but she went to J.C. Penny's instead and got her one that was in the clearance bin as it wouldn't matter. She figured that even if it didn't fit her, they could shove her withered lady-lumps into it.
My only regret was not going with my friend to the mall to get her the bra. I certainly would have sprung for the Victoria's Secret bra, just because I'm a sick fuck. Toward the end of her life she was attended by people who were not even her relatives. I was a stranger to her before my friend introduced her to me at the home. So, she was buried quietly, alone, in an ill-fitting bra.
There has to be a more dignified way to conclude your life than that. And just remember not to let Cantrip have anything to do with your burial arrangements. You might end up wearing sexy underwear entombed with a blow-up doll with a picture of Whut's face taped to it.You should be more like Cantrip.  Twitchy: "I pulled a Cantrip . . ." GivePeaceAChance: "If the Tempest had nipples, I'd pinch that shit." Xylicon: "I'm about to deliver my [Richard] in your face for posting that stupid shit. " WDF?: "He keeps reaming me... night after night... I'm rather sore." GivePeaceAChance: "OMG MY NIPS ARE HARD" llenta: "cantrip, you fail!!!" Filliam H. Muffman: "i'm on top of dick"
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Rank: Fecal Impaction For the Win!
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Cantrip wrote:
She figured that even if it didn't fit her, they could shove her withered lady-lumps into it.
That sentence single-handedly made your post worth while. But really, that depressed the hell out of me. Well written, though. Bike wrote:I like to make werewolf movies. 
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Rank: You're gonna stick that where?
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Dude very touching story. Keep the stories comin dude I love reading them. Come to think of it I think we should have a separate forum for Cantrip stories. Maybe like a weekely thing. It would be awsome. {pDs}BelligerentPimp wrote:
No using the word "fucktard" unless you are refering to TonyRWC or Youngripark.j2. WDF? wrote:go fuck yourself hanukkah style.
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Rank: Fuckstick
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Do you have a Photographic memory or something?   Quote:Posting related image due to my inability to formulate an intelligent response. BlooDz wrote:i cant type good im stupid
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Rank: Coathanger Abortion
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I have spent a lot of times in places like this and they really are the most fucked up depressing places you can imagine. I once was even in one of those rooms where one of the people can hear shit but can't move or communicate, it's fucking disturbing as hell to know they hear everything you say but can't respond. When I'm an old fuck I'm going to move to a Scandinavian country where they know how to take care of old people better, I'll spend all day shooting morphine or drinking vodka and all night fucking old Swedish chicks. Razor wrote:Killing people is good therapy.  
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Rank: Fuckstick
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horsie, sum it up please  Formally known as MrT The film "Brokeback Mountain" was originally pitched as an off-beat romance starring MrT and WhutDuFuk. The sole reason the two legends declined the starring roles is because if MrT and WhutDuFuk were to kiss, there would be new meaning to the word homosexual...it would mean "obligation".
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