Microstory 2245: Complaint to You

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I had lunch with my old friends today. It was my former assistant, who replaced me at the jail, and my former parole officer. At first, I thought that Leonard was being respectful by ordering a vegetarian meal, but as it turns out, I inspired him to become a vegetarian. I’m really happy about that, and I hope the trend continues, if only due to the fear of a prion disease. They ran a full investigation of the restaurant where I allegedly (I legally have to say it like that) ate contaminated meat, and they were unable to find evidence of further contamination. So you should be able to eat there again if you want, in case you were waiting for an answer regarding that problem. I guess I should have said something earlier. Anyway, the meal we had today was great, and I enjoyed the company. It was nice to be out in public again, even though men in suits were standing at the ready. I always wanted to be famous, but important—like a politician would be—is a different concept. Someone like that is a target. I did not want it to be like this. I knew there was a chance that I may end up with a stalker or two, but not that everyone I saw was a potential threat. People were staring, not only because it was me, but because I was clearly under protection. Fortunately, it didn’t get any worse than that. I’m not one to advertise my location, so it didn’t draw a big crowd, or anything, but I fear that this might start happening if the media begins to track my movements. Maybe I should just stay home all the time, and never show my face. That may sound like a complaint to you, but it doesn’t sound like one to me. There are worse ways to live, believe you me. Speaking of which, we still haven’t gotten word on whether my offer on the house has been approved. Even if it is, it will still take some time to complete all the paperwork, and whathaveyou. Until next week, goodbye.

Microstory 2221: Advocating For My Patient

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We had an uncomfortable meeting at the hospital. Some people who will not be named have expressed interest in keeping Nick there for the duration of the rest of his short life. They believe that I will not be able to provide him the care that he deserves to be safe, healthy, and happy. Let’s start at the end with that. Nick is happy where he is, and he’s the only one in the world qualified to determine what will keep him that way. He’s not healthy, and he’s never going to be healthy; he’s dying! I know, they’re worried about secondary infections, but let me tell you, that apartment is clean. He kept it clean before I got there, and I keep it clean now. Both of us understand the importance of sanitation, and avoiding cross-contamination. Hospitals are full of other sick people, many of whom can’t do all that much to keep themselves and their spaces clean. I would argue that the apartment is better than that, because we can keep him contained, and separated from anyone who isn’t up to our standards. There are too many others in a facility. Lastly, safe? What do you mean, safe? I know what they mean. They think that his fans are going to come clamoring to see him—for autographs, selfies, or just to get in the way. But you wouldn’t do that, would you? You respect his safety, his privacy, and his need to keep his distance, right? Anyway, I argued my little heart out, advocating for my patient to the best of my ability, and in the end, we won out. We won, because this is the patient’s decision, and he wants to stay where he feels comfortable. At this point in the progression of this awful disease, that’s pretty much all he can ask for. As I’ve been saying, this is terminal, and the prognosis is short. Even if he succumbs to a new infection, it’s not like he was going to live a long and joyous life without it. Now I have another fight ahead of me, but it may not be up to Nick, or he may not care anyway. As you know, he’s my first patient since graduating from my Lifecare Assistant class, and passing the exam. The hospital, and the agency, are considering replacing me with someone with more experience. I can’t say that I can blame them for believing that I’m not ready for this kind of responsibility, but I one hundred percent am. I want to see this to the end, and I hope that Nick feels the same way. We’ll have to see how that goes.

Microstory 2103: My New Dirty Job

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I’ve been looking for work. Unlike when I was in Kansas City, and in my past life, I no longer have standards. I used to have certain limitations, which stopped short of cleaning, food preparation or distribution, and interacting with people too much. I think I’m going to still shy away from that last one, since I don’t need to be exposing my wanted face to a whole bunch of people every day. I’m also not good at smiling, whether it’s real or fake. I can grimace. If you need someone to grimace awkwardly, and make everyone in the room feel incredibly uncomfortable, I am your man. What I don’t like about the other two things is that my health and sanitation standards are higher than anyone else’s. That sort of stuff is hard to be around, because it will never be good enough for me, and people find that rather annoying, if you can believe it. But ya know, you don’t know how to wear gloves. You seem to think that makes you impervious to cross-contamination, but that’s not how it works. If you pick up a big piece of poop, throw it in the toilet, and then go back to fixing my sandwich, you’ve just put poop in that sandwich. I don’t really care that it didn’t get on your hands, do I? That was never my concern. Of course, this is an exaggeration, but it’s plausible, since most people seem to think that clothing is some magical barrier that prevents bacteria and viruses from being transmitted, but I’m here to tell you that it’s not. Trust me. I know pathogens. I suppose that all has more to do with food, which is why cleaning doesn’t bother me as much. I mean, it really bothers me, but I can immerse myself in it, and then come out clean on the other side. This temporary place where I’m staying has a perfect system for me, especially with my new dirty job. I’m a janitor, which is kind of always where I thought I would end up. Now all I need is to become an unarmed security guard, and I will be able to check everything off my list of jobs I either wanted, or thought I would have to take. This isn’t so bad. I can clean myself off at the end of the day in the group showers, and then step right into the tub shower. That way, I don’t have to dirty up the tub. I know that sounds like overkill to you, but I prefer it. The washer and dryer combo unit are right there too, which allows me to clean my uniform every night before I have to use it again the next day. It’s not glamorous, but it will get me by...for now.