Feb. 3rd, 2015

instantkarmma: (*sigh*)
So we got a message on Paul's cell phone the other night from a friend of ours. He had been riding around on busses for days straight because he had nowhere to go. Paul went and picked him up and we parked him in our guest room. Problem is, he's sick as Hell and I'm trying to be hospitable but whatever he's got could literally kill me. I'm not dying from something lame like the flu, I'm only 37 damnit. I called to get the power turned on at the other house though so he has a place to stay for a few weeks until the tenants move in.

Part of me is upset that I can't be more accomodating but...wacky immune system etc. The other part of me though is screaming that I cannot be his social worker nor his therapist but he's in such a bad way that it's hard to bite my tongue. It's sometimes a hard line to walk between "I'm chatting with a good friend and they need advice/reassurance" and "give me the reins, you're cocking this up and I'm going to give you step-by-step instructions on how to fix it." This time though, I can see the edge of the abyss and I know I need to stay the Hell away. We're helping in the best way we are able and I'm glad, but I need it out from under my nose because social work is my job and your job doesn't belong at home.

On top of all of it, he's gone very conspiracy theory/uber-hippy pothead who is trashing vaccines and pretty much all of Western medicine. And I can respect that, I've seen Naturopaths and Acupuncturists and am open to all of that but so far all that has kept me functioning is hard-core, chemical-laden chemo. So having someone come into my house and trash the means I use to stay alive...sucks. (he wasn't attacking me or my treatment, just speaking in general but you don't eat your BLT's in someone else's Kosher household)


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