The provider

I want to use a word like "horrific" to describe yesterday, but I think "taxing" better applies.

I woke up at 4 AM after sleeping badly.  Took my shower (did God Time later).  We went to the warehouse. Since it is getting a little cooler I did not bring the ice chest for the candy bars.

We got there a little early but that's fine.  We got in on time and I began "the shop".  "The Shop" generally involves filling Ron's list (this time, a meager 15 cases of bottled drinks), and then filling mine (far more snack items, as we didn't have room last week).

About halfway thought, a manager came up to me.  Lots of butt kissing on his part.  "Please don't switch to another store" blah, blah.  Lots of excuses. "We're going to do better" I told them I hoped so, while smiling. 

See, Ron called in a complaint, more than one I think, to "headquarters" in Arkansas.  They seldom have adequate amounts of basic items like Coke, Sprite, and tea.  When I'm trying to run a business, and someone wants an item I couldn't buy, I can't sell excuses (did a blog on this, too).  Anyway, it got back to the store.

They aren't stupid, they know Big Mouth (he complained a lot In Store as well) did it.  Rather than deal with him they hunted me down, as I appear to have the buying power.  I don't.  I only spend what Ron tells me, and when it comes to drinks, I only select the items he lists.

If I do find something I know he'd like, I'll tell him.  He may add it to the list, like when the black tea with peach finally came back.  Customers are insane for the stuff.

That all done, I pushed my teetering flatbed cart (I had a couple of crashes into stationary items, and an avalanche of product at one point) up to the checkout.  They had one cashier.

They have a lot of trouble getting people to show up on Saturday Morning.  I love to work Saturdays.

I saw a couple of people with just a few items.  Our truck guy is having leg problems.

He eats a lot of carbohydrate, and thinks "OJ" is a "good breakfast".  If you are a former LCF you will cringe with me on that.  He is a diabetic.  He has had a couple of very nasty skin infections he called "spider bites" but I believe were MRSA.  One required surgical debridement.  Ron and I don't need MRSA infections, so I don't invite him in anymore (that and he used the toilet once - for a while, if you get my drift, came right out without washing, and barehanded began digging around in the icemaker.)

He's diabetic.  He went to his cardiac doc talking about leg pain and they did a bunch of (expensive) vein studies.  Apparently cardiac doc never thought to ask about the diabetes, and carb intake.  He just sent him off with a blase "Oh, well, nothing we can do" which the guy believes.

I asked Ron if I should tell him he has diabetic neuropathy because his blood sugar is NOT under control, A1C nonwithstanding, and urgently needs a nerve conduction study.  Ron said no.  He wouldn't thank me for it.

The guy tried to argue with me yesterday, saying all adults who develop diabetes have type 2, even if they need insulin.  WRONG.  I didn't argue.  

OK.  I trust Ron's judgement on that.  He would probably also try to use it to get a "bigger" disability out of the VA, when late onset neuropathy like this after decades of diabetic abuse (he used to drink literally 2 quarts of coke every time we ate), is in my opinion, totally the patient's fault.  I believe that is abusing the system.

It's one thing for a guy to get blown up by an IED, develop problems, and obtain disability.  It's another thing for a guy to make decades of bad decisions (high sugar intake, smoking) for decades after serving and then demand "compensation".

[shrug]  Just my opinion.

I also got something for Ron.  Something, as I told a driver "Private".  We formulated some comebacks if anyone asked about it.

Our favorite was "We're having a Party".  [snort]

That's all I think I can say.

Ron has asked for some confidentiality in certain issues.  Since I love him I will oblige.

Anyway, we got that.  I wasn't worried about it, it said "MENS" on it anyway.

I did hide it well going into, and while at work.

While I had "beat" a couple of people with small orders to the register, I wasn't going to make them wait while we rang up all 80 items.  I let them "cut" in line, and Truck Guy got all pissed and stomped out, dragging Ron with him. 

Hey, I'd let Jesus cut. 

But first I had to load the truck, unload the truck, and put everything onto hand carts.  I stuffed that all into the building.

Small gripe.  I think the truck guy has a little OCD, things have to be done a certain way.  In his world, one person holds the door open, then the second person pushes the cart in from behind.

In my world, one person can approach the door, open it herself, pull the cart up to block it, and haul it through.  But whenever I do that he gets very indignant.

I miss the other truck guy.  I showed him once and he agreed it made a lot more sense, that way we could both move carts at the same time rather than one HAVING to hold a door for another, and then I have to worry about running over his feet.

It's tedious and tiresome and I don't like people, who think they have a little bit of power, forcing me into inefficient modalities of business because they (NOT a business person) think it works "better".

He left.

I got Ron his wheelchair (I am trying to spoil him) and got him in the building.  He spent about half an hour in the bathroom, total.

"Our whole lives revolve around your butt" I told him, not long ago.

I got to work.  Snacks needed a minimal touch up.  I helped Ron.  I managed, yet again, to hide all my high value candy in the bottom of a snack machine (a prison warden gave me the idea) and stuff everything else into my corner of the stockroom.

The way the space was allocated, a thief is first faced with MY inventory, and would have to remove several heavily laden hand carts to get at the other vendor's "good" stuff.  I don't like that but figure God will rebuke any bad guys.

Anyway, all done... but not.

We went home and had a very short turnaround trip before we went to Walmart, to get Ron's prescriptions.  "I don't want any last minute screwups" I told him "Let's get it now".

We also "made groceries". Ron was happy he didn't have to buy personal items at the store where we are so well known.

I had him in a kiddie cart.  Oh, story on that.

Basically, while obtaining the kiddie cart, I walked right into a cinderblock exterior wall of the store.  I was moving pretty fast, too, pushing the cart.

Tired.  Properly medicated.

I was so horrified.  I very slowly reached up to my tingling, throbbing, head.  Was I bleeding?  Praise God I wasn't.

My head rang like a bell for a while afterward.  It was really interesting to have head pain but it not be a headache.  It was just head pain.

I ended up taking an Aleve later, and that helped.

Our home ride was over an hour late.  Some guys were "begging" for charity (presumably) outside the Walmart, reinforcing my desire not to do a Bible Handout at same.

I will stick to my medians and every day.

Anyway, the driver was late, and really happy to see the candy bar.  I put everything away myself.  I took it out myself, too.

See, if the client has things the client is supposed to be the one to move it.  If the client is incapable, they're supposed to bring someone to help.  That person, "The provider", rides for free.

I'm Ron's provider, so I sling cat litter and sacks of canned food.

The driver = drives!  Wow!

That, and fill out a lot of paper work, poor thing.

When we got home #2 had parked his truck in front of our house.  He does, occasionally.

I didn't mind today but I did gawk at his "hoarded to the rafters" garage.  He had the door open.  The driver took one look and started swearing.

I giggled.  I mean, I told the landlady.  Repeatedly.  If she doesn't want to face it, that's her issue.  Nothing violating the health department, he did clean up the food garbage.  He is quiet, cat friendly (he giggles at Baby Girl), and stays out of my yard.  More than I can say for the other ones who lived there.

I got a little upset, actually, a few weeks ago when I saw him hauling off a mattress.  I would have missed them.

So, I didn't get upset.  I just laid my stuff in the yard, got Ron, helped him into the house, and brought my stuff in afterward, working around the pickup.

Ron had arranged for our Truck Guy to come and drive us to dinner (not my idea) so date night had a third wheel.  I was still hurting pretty bad anyway.

Truck Guy about blew a gasket because #2 had parked 3 inches over our driveway.  It's a 2 car driveway.  If 3 inches makes the difference between you parking or not I'm don't want to ride the freeway with you!

We went to dinner, came home.  I went to bed.

I woke up and used the toilet a few times.  I have a theory my "slept late" headaches refer back to dehydration.

So I drank a lot and peed a lot and when the sun came up found a bloody mess all over the toilet.

Poor baby, he tried to clean it up.

I just hit it with the disinfecting wipes.

I told Ron I was sorry he was still bleeding.  He wanted to know how I knew.  :(

I will be so glad to get this fixed.