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I'm having some problems with one of the residents. He's been falling a lot lately, so it's been decided that we have to help him in and out of the shower. He's had a stroke so it's hard to understand what he says, and he gets so frustrated when I don't understand him. He didn't want my help in the shower either, because of modesty. He got down to his boxers and almost pushed me out of the bathroom. I compromised by turning my back but I could still see him out of the corner of my eye and get him if he fell until he got in his shower seat. It must be so frustrating to be independent for so many years and then go back to being in diapers and having people help you walk. I don't know if I'd be particularly cheerful about people helping me either.
I talked to James for a half hour this morning before work. It's only been a month. I don't know if I can make it. He needs to write me more letters, or I won't make it. He didn't write me one until he got one from me, so that was like two weeks when he didn't write me. Oh sure, there's the internet and weekly brief phone calls, but that's not enough. His physical presence calms me so much. I was thinking last week one day contentedly how much he loves me, more than any boyfriend I've ever had, but if that's true, why did he go so far away? Okay, I went first, but I only went to Baltimore and I wouldn't have left the East Coast. I was expecting that I'd get to see him at least once a month, more if he ended up in Washington like he hoped. I am not very pleased that he went so far away.
