This week has just been filled with blog fodder.
I was just about to take my morning shower when I spotted EMTs heading down the walkway, six of ‘em.
Seeing them turn into the entryway to where Karen lives in the bottom unit, the Talker upstairs, I naturally assumed Karen was at it again, but then I saw Talker come into view.
Asking if everything was okay, she said it was her brother. He was having a temper tantrum — slamming doors, got violent.
I don’t know what actually is wrong with her brother, whether he was born the way he is or had an accident. I’ve never asked, would never ask, but his condition is that of being a full-grown man, with a facial deformity and mind of a child.
If you’ve ever seen the movie Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, there is a character called The Blaster. Blaster is completely covered in armor, so you don’t see the face that goes with the muscular body.
When Mad Max defeats Blaster in the arena, which pisses off Auntie Entity — played by icon Tina Turner, the mask falls off and Mad Max sees a smiling but distorted face with the eyes of an innocent child. That’s exactly how Talker’s brother presents — facial abnormality and all.
Talker is figuratively and literally her brother’s keeper, his caretaker, moved him in with her when she first moved here because his previous caretaker — their mother, passed away.
Though her brother would never want to hurt her, Talker is leery of him when he has a temper tantrum because, with his size and strength, she would be hurt.
On this particular morning, she said he didn’t want to take his meds, began slamming doors, got violent, so she fled the unit, called 911. EMTs arrived but were giving her a hard time because they didn’t want to take him.
Take him where, I don’t know, but she was also trying to reach his doctor because she said she’d been telling the doctor something was wrong with the medication causing him to be less and less manageable.
I commiserated with her having so much responsibility and that I knew all about doctors not listening, EMTs not wanting to take him because it seems that’s how it is in the world these days — no one cares, no one wants to do their job.
In fact, I just the other day sent my doctor a message saying essentially "Thanks for nothing", because I received no medical assistance when I had that rash. I included in the message all the information I’d gathered on that dermatologist the medical center has entered into a contract with — not responding to doctors' approvals to schedule patients, the negative reviews, no one answering the phone, yada yada yada.
But I digress.
Back to the Talker.
In the midst of the chaos, she said she’s diabetic, had just taken her medicine, it wasn’t safe to go back inside her unit, but she needed to eat something sweet. I had a few pieces of See’s candies I’d been keeping in the refrigerator in case of an emergency — the emergency on my part being when I just couldn’t take not having something sweet, whether it made me ill or not, so I gave her those.
"I only need one", said she.
"Take ‘em. You’ll be doing me a favor", said I.
When all was said and done, the EMTs talked her brother down, walked him out to the ambulance.
I’d assumed they taken him away but, if they did, they didn’t take him far because, I stopped for gas after this morning’s workout and heard someone call my name.
It was Talker and her brother pulling up to a pump.
"Everything okay?" asked I.
"I’m taking him to the doctor", said she.
I looked at brother, said — as if he had control over his behavior (but you never know), "You be nice to her because she’s a good sister".
I myself have an early morning appointment at the medical center tomorrow — get my second, last and final Shingles shot.
Next up is the annual flu shot.
Did you hear there’s a possibility of a 4th Covid shot next year, and we’ll have to pay for it?