In the Old Testament story which coins the term, the implication is clear that we are, indeed, expected to be our Brother's Keeper.
The Bible speaks of Abel finding more favor with God than Cain did. However, Genesis is suspiciously silent about whether Abel might also have been a GIGANTIC, IRRITATING PAIN IN THE A$$ WHO DROVE HIS BROTHER INTO A SCARLET MURDEROUS RAGE VIA CONSTANT WHINING AND PARASITISM AND AFFECTED HELPLESSNESS! ARRGH!!
(Breathes heavily.) Okay, now that I've had my outburst, I'll lay it out. It's my family. Again.
I have a relative who has a long history of being both accident-prone and a huge drama queen. This relative recently had surgery; his post-surgical stay in the hospital included daily diatribes on various social media complaining about how awful the nurses, the food and the other patients were.
Apparently, hospitals should recruit only nurses fresh from their centerfold photo shoots, hire celebrity chefs to prepare every meal to order, and provide a soundproofed individual suite to every patient in recovery. But I digress.
After three weeks he was released, which sparked complaints about his having been tossed out like an old sneaker by an unfeeling medical establishment.
My relative, not feeling up to negotiating the stairs to his 3rd-floor condo, prevailed upon a nearby family member to take him in while he continued his recuperation. Within 2 days, he was begging me to rescue him from her house because it wasn't comfortable enough.
Granted, my house offers a first-floor guest room with an attached full bath; our other relative's house doesn't. It's also true that she has more daily commotion going on, since she cares for one of her granddaughters. Since I'm still w*rking OMY, during the daytime my empty house would be much quieter and more conducive to healing.
Okay, I get it. Brother's Keeper. Sure, he can come and stay at Casa Mdlerth. I'll collect him, transport him the 150 miles to here, prep the guest quarters with some handicapped amenities, and slide him in.
How long will it be? Probably a month, maybe two. But after only the first weekend, I'm wondering how many of us will still be around in a month, maybe two. Are there any retired psychics out there who might be able to tell if a rubber room is in my future?
Every movement is accompanied by groans of agony just to let us know how much pain he's in. He is encamped in the keeping room adjacent to the kitchen, with the TV on while he diddles over his cell phone. He tires too easily to make a pot of coffee, but he can hobble with his walker out to the deck for a cigarette. There's more, but that should be enough to outline the picture.
The situation reminds me of the play "The Man Who Came to Dinner". I've mentioned on these pages my recourse to humor in times of stress. But I know that humor is a lot funnier in the third person, or at some later date than during the actual event.
I know also that it will be harder for DW to endure this adventure than it will be for me. I've known this relative my whole life, and am more used to his dramatics. (She has no experience with whack-jobs. Her side of the family is maddeningly competent. It's only her in-laws who are head cases!) Half of my challenge will be to insulate her from his antics.
A recent thread included a post by a member who had tended her disabled husband for decades. Compared to her Job-level patience, mine is as a mere grain of sand . I could be driven over the edge in a week, depending on how much humor I can muster.
Anyway, if I end up disappearing from these pages soon, it could mean I can't type because my arms are wrapped in a straitjacket.
The Bible speaks of Abel finding more favor with God than Cain did. However, Genesis is suspiciously silent about whether Abel might also have been a GIGANTIC, IRRITATING PAIN IN THE A$$ WHO DROVE HIS BROTHER INTO A SCARLET MURDEROUS RAGE VIA CONSTANT WHINING AND PARASITISM AND AFFECTED HELPLESSNESS! ARRGH!!
(Breathes heavily.) Okay, now that I've had my outburst, I'll lay it out. It's my family. Again.
I have a relative who has a long history of being both accident-prone and a huge drama queen. This relative recently had surgery; his post-surgical stay in the hospital included daily diatribes on various social media complaining about how awful the nurses, the food and the other patients were.
Apparently, hospitals should recruit only nurses fresh from their centerfold photo shoots, hire celebrity chefs to prepare every meal to order, and provide a soundproofed individual suite to every patient in recovery. But I digress.
After three weeks he was released, which sparked complaints about his having been tossed out like an old sneaker by an unfeeling medical establishment.
My relative, not feeling up to negotiating the stairs to his 3rd-floor condo, prevailed upon a nearby family member to take him in while he continued his recuperation. Within 2 days, he was begging me to rescue him from her house because it wasn't comfortable enough.
Granted, my house offers a first-floor guest room with an attached full bath; our other relative's house doesn't. It's also true that she has more daily commotion going on, since she cares for one of her granddaughters. Since I'm still w*rking OMY, during the daytime my empty house would be much quieter and more conducive to healing.
Okay, I get it. Brother's Keeper. Sure, he can come and stay at Casa Mdlerth. I'll collect him, transport him the 150 miles to here, prep the guest quarters with some handicapped amenities, and slide him in.
How long will it be? Probably a month, maybe two. But after only the first weekend, I'm wondering how many of us will still be around in a month, maybe two. Are there any retired psychics out there who might be able to tell if a rubber room is in my future?
Every movement is accompanied by groans of agony just to let us know how much pain he's in. He is encamped in the keeping room adjacent to the kitchen, with the TV on while he diddles over his cell phone. He tires too easily to make a pot of coffee, but he can hobble with his walker out to the deck for a cigarette. There's more, but that should be enough to outline the picture.
The situation reminds me of the play "The Man Who Came to Dinner". I've mentioned on these pages my recourse to humor in times of stress. But I know that humor is a lot funnier in the third person, or at some later date than during the actual event.
I know also that it will be harder for DW to endure this adventure than it will be for me. I've known this relative my whole life, and am more used to his dramatics. (She has no experience with whack-jobs. Her side of the family is maddeningly competent. It's only her in-laws who are head cases!) Half of my challenge will be to insulate her from his antics.
A recent thread included a post by a member who had tended her disabled husband for decades. Compared to her Job-level patience, mine is as a mere grain of sand . I could be driven over the edge in a week, depending on how much humor I can muster.
Anyway, if I end up disappearing from these pages soon, it could mean I can't type because my arms are wrapped in a straitjacket.
).
