Nasty, nasty, nasty - Melanie don't read

Yuck. 

I could have folded this into my daily account but it's so awful I think I should separate it. 

We had a ride from work to home.  It was a big fan.  Ron got out of his wheelchair, and the driver locked it up in the back of the big van.  It's about the size of a shuttle bus, with fold down seats surrounding a wheelchair parking area.  You can park two wheelchairs across. 

Ron's chair was back left, passenger. 

We had another pickup (not unusual).  This is a guy who has a remarkably different body.  I don't like "Birth defects" - even though I have one.  We'll just say he was born remarkably different, and as a result had to use a wheelchair.  His "top half" worked OK, arms and head.   He was not mentally delayed in any way. 

I noticed he immediately pulled in, abreast of Ron's wheelchair - even though the van was basically empty.  I didn't understand why until later. 

Throughout the trip, I saw him rubbing his right arm all over the armrest and handle of Ron's chair.  He'd press down, then slide it down the armrest, or press and slide back and forth.  I thought it was very inappropriate. 

He raised his arm at one point and I saw a huge, open wound on his arm, the same surface he'd been rubbing on Ron's chair.  It was all raw meat, open and bloody. 

He had been rubbing his open wound all over Ron's wheelchair.  I was revolted and furious. 

The driver later asked me "Why didn't you say something?"  Well, the damage was done, I replied. 

Between us, I didn't get the nickname "Heather the Hatchet" for nothing!  I figured if I opened my mouth it would get real ugly, real fast. 

After he unloaded I told Ron and the driver, and told her "I don't care what you say, the minute we get home I'm getting my disinfectant Ron is not getting in that wheelchair until it's cleansed." 

The driver looked pretty nauseated.  "That's fine, you do that!"  I'd mentioned how he'd contaminated the handles, which she would have touched with her bare hands. 

We got home.  I got the antiviral cleansing wipes, and the Lysol.  I went after the chair, leaving a toxic cloud of "Summerfresh" wafting through the van.  Then I gave the driver the can, because God told me to. 

"She took it, too" Ron remarked later. 

I put the antiviral/kill everything wipes into the bag on the back of the wheelchair, in case, God forbid, something like this happens again. 

If the guy had been slow I could have understood.  But for a "normal" minded guy to scrape an open wound all over someone's wheelchair - that's unacceptable and beyond inappropriate. 

He would probably say "It was itchy". 

[shudder]