He broke my dining room chairs.
He wore his pants so low, he graced me with his bare butt when he bent over.
He grumbled, grumped and demanded that I meet his latest need.
Finally, I could no longer stand this man radiating bad temper through the house while my uncle was dying. Yet, the company who supplied my caregivers refused to replace him.
So, I decided to do what I should have done long ago: get my weekend caregiver from a different company. I'd put it off and put it off, not wanting to rock the delicate, care-giving boat.
I've gone through a lot of caregivers since my uncle has lived with me. I feel incredibly lucky to have a great person five days a week. What if I went to another company, yet got another dud?
It's not easy being a live-in caregiver. It's much harder when
a competent person is living right there. To succeed, my
caregivers must do everything for my uncle - who can do
nothing for himself - PLUS get along with me.
I sympathized that someone might find the situation stressful. That didn't mean I should tolerate a resentful person skulking about.
Then, like a miracle, without my doing anything, the annoying caregiver disappeared. I was assigned an amazing man from Southwest Nigeria (the region Shell and BP have made into an environmental disaster area). Highly educated, experienced, and with an optimistic sense of humor - he was good with Milt and with me.
I couldn't believe my luck or blessing or whatever it was.
I felt more relaxed than practically since I started this gig.
Living with a dying man is an emotional wringer, but that is not so hard. Hard is sharing my house with an endless parade of well-meaning or not-so-well-meaning strangers while that emotional wringing is in progress.