Kimberly McCarver sings a song about a cowboy who rolls around on a wheelchair in his final days. It's a steel horse, or a silver wheeled pony. Well, my audience at the home is no different. Not one of them is self-mobile...which is a dark prediction for my own future. I can hardly imagine a time when I can't walk, or shit without assistance. Someone will wipe my ass for me. Wash my swollen feet. Feed me. Pick my fork up when I drop it. Get me more peas when they fall on my lap. Read to me? So bleak. Medication and incontinence. If I'm in chronic pain now then what will I be like in 40 years? Hopeless. Junk.
| A similar piano |
Not included in this video is when a woman slumped over in her wheelchair setting off a high pitched alarm. The cameraman is the master electrician who taught me everything I know about refinery electrical but who secretly wants to be a guitarist. He didn't accidentally turn the camera off after fifty seconds, I absently left it on internal memory so that's all it could record. A daughter of a resident (50 years old) asked me if I gave lessons. I said I was only there for the free peach cobbler.
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