Resident's Council was today. My first. Not much to complain about. Just a few suggestions to the menu. Residents seem to agree that the food is fabulous! Also discussed was a memorial wall display in the second floor diningroom. This won't be a collective montage, rather it will feature up to eight recently deceased friends who were residents of Bailey Boushay House.
Fed up. Sick of hearing, "I'm sorry." Apologies don't erase the pain you inflict on me. You pull my pubic hair. Your nitrile gloves pull the hair from my head. Not once in a while but day in and day out. You turn me in a manner that suits you rather than in a manner that doesn't stress my body. Why won't you use the pad and sheet to turn me as one unit? Instead, you allow my body to twist as you hold me one-handed. How good you are at your job. What part of "my muscles are dying" don't you understand?
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