It's easy to be grateful to all the good people in our lives.
But the loads of dung are what keep me sane.
Pile #1: Medical bills for Rich's last experimental procedure, an "out of network" event. In what other business would practitioners charge thousands for what surely will fail?
Pile #2: Today's visitor (again) flogging his religious agenda. Rich is too polite to tell him to fuck off. I'm not, but he visits when I'm gone. So I send a fiery e-mail, and the Hospice staff promises to be my substitute pit bulls.
Pile #3: Rich's ice cream vanishes from the freezer, several times. The hungry offender is a Hospice mate who can't swallow solid food, and this is easily forgiven. But now Rich thinks that all his food is stolen, and...thank you, meaningless bills and assholes and food gone missing.
Such dung is insulation for my heart.
Candace
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