E R N I E ' S   H O U S E   O F   W H O O P A S S

I was once employed by a company that provided home health care to the elderly. I could tell many a tale about changing icky diapers on gnarled lifeless bodies or about the lady who could pull a catheter tube out with the bulb inflated to the size of a lightbulb, however, the following tale is the one that made me throw up my hands and consider flipping burgers and McDonalds a favorable career.

“Ms. Ella” lived down a crappy little side street in the projects. Despite the ten or so young adults that “stayed” with her (they didn’t live there mind you, they just “stayed” there) her doctor decided she needed her temperature checked and help with a bath a whopping three times a week.

This morning, I knocked on Ms. Ella’s door and was greeted by her with her pistol pointed at me. Once I assured her that I was just there to help her (like I had been doing for several weeks now) she lowered the gun and let me in. The other people who were there just sorta giggled and took off for whereabouts unknown. I took Ms. Ella’s temperature, checked her pulse and respirations, and then tried to convince her that since she hadn’t had a bath since last Friday (today is Monday by the way) that she needed one.

After much coercion, she finally relented and started her fifteen-minute waddle to the bathroom. This might be a good time to point out that Ms. Ella weighed about 350 pounds…and she was only five feet tall. Normally, I would put a straight chair in the tub of water, get Ms. Ella sat down on the chair and pretty much hose her off. However, today of all days, Ms. Ella wanted to SIT in the bathtub.

I don’t know if you have ever seen the standard bathtub in a project house. It’s basically big enough to bathe a SMALL six year old in. I was sorta afraid to argue, fearing she might have another pistol close by, so against my better judgement, I relented. Bathing Ms. Ella in itself was repulsive enough. Being the size she was, just to wash in the crevice of her knees my hand would disappear, literally! Her boobs truly hung to her waist and reminded me of how bubblegum looks when you pinch a little ball of it off and stretch it out of your mouth.

I don’t even want to think about washing the rest of her, it might bring back the nightmares.

Anyway, I finally finished washing her and it was time to get out. I gave her a hand and prepared to pull her up when I realized, she was STUCK in the tub. I pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled and she didn’t budge. I considered getting the broom and using it like a crowbar to pry her out, but my boss didn’t have much of a sense of humor and I figured she wouldn’t like that idea too much.

Finally I had to take my shoes and socks off, roll up my pants and get IN the tub with Ms. Ella.

I’m sure some porn magazine would have had a field day with a picture of this…350 lb. woman in the tub with a 120 lb. woman in there too..pulling on her. I pulled and pulled and finally Ms. Ella came loose. Imagine pulling a huge suction cup off a window…SMOOOCK.

When she came free, I fell backwards into the faucet and ended up turning the shower on. Now wet and really pissed I am ready to get her dressed and get the hell out of there, but…Ms. Ella is cold. I look around and she has a ceiling mounted electric heater. Without thinking, I flip the switch and low and behold I am rained down upon by thousands of roaches.

That was it, all I needed, I’d had enough. I slung the pup tent sized sweat suit on her still wet ass and took off for the door.

I stood by my car ten minutes turning my pockets inside out, shaking roaches loose, bending over shaking my hair out with one of them occasionally crunching their guts out against my scalp when I shook too quickly, cussing a blue streak, and making that shrieking sound women make when bugs are crawling in their bra.

I went straight back to the office and my boss looked at me as I threw my gear on her desk. She even had the nerve to ask why I was quitting.

I think I will like my new career as a burger flipper. -- Cindy