my phone is dead...
and so is my spirit. I hate these rehab places. I was choked up all day. . . I want to rip my grandmothers stupid dirty scratch and annoying neckbrace off of her. She asked on more than one occasion to help her rip it off. She's not stupid, and everyone there talks and treats her like she is. I wish I had the courage to stay there overnight with her. today, she told me to get on the bed and sleep with her. I obeyed, of course, and just laid there crying next to her. a stupid fucking psycholgist came in, with his round wire rimmed glasses and squeaky phD voice asking her stupid ass questions and not really paying attention to her answers. he stood beside her and never looked into her eyes that flickr with cataracts. every time his shrieking voice asked another questions, my poor grandmother jumped started at his loud voice that broke the awkward silences. my ears wanted to bleed. he left his card on her table, like she was going to get up tomorrow and say hmm.... I'd like to start seeing a psychiatrist. then tonight, when the nurse assistant came in to help my grams use the bathroom, a makeshift toilet they wheel over to her bed, she found out that the last nurse had emptied the makeshift toilet and she made a sound of disgust as she crinkled up her face. I could smell the stale urine from the other side of the room, and I wanted to weep right their for my grandmother who feels the weight of this burden. i wanted to grab her out of the nurses cold grip, and just float with her in an ocean, the dead see, where we could float effortlessly and she could pee freely into the salty sea whenever she liked. the nurse knew i didn't like the way she was manhandling my grandma, and asked if I was mad at her. I didn't say anything, but the look in my eye let her know that I would break her neck if she ever hurt my grandmother. our system for caring for the elders of our society is fucked up to the core. they don't need teevees that hang form the ceiling blaring about which of the fak the bachelor