Joey, the autistic prince.

Joey is 29 and lives with his parents, east of the city.

I went to his house on the day I finished my training with Rural Metro, the day I passed my “final” exam. He was, therefore, my first client.

Joey is about six feet one or two, maybe one hundred sixty or seventy pounds, and when he walks he pirouettes in constant, on-going turns with his arms out, never even touching the wall in an almost beautiful ballet. Joey is in good shape even though his limitations (like needing to be watched constantly) keep him sedentary.

My job with him was:

· To be with him.

· Make sure he doesn’t get hurt.

· Give him a bath.

· Dress him.

· Feed him.

· Entertain him (as best I could).

Joey and I went through the first month or so with little trouble. I established quite a friendly relationship with his Joey’s father. Joey’s mother worked most of the time, so I had little to no contact with her. At about the four or five week period it became our regular event most day’s activities to watch “Joey’s Videos”. These videos were, are, combinations of Barney (that purple dinosaur), children’s programs from Sesame Street and various Disney videos for children, ages two and up. Joey became very emphatic, pounding his hands on the floor and shrieking when the videos stopped. It seemed obvious to me that Joey was having fun watching me watch, again and again with him, these videos. I wished I had as much patients as I needed to do that. Joey was prepared to watch these videos again and again.

It was about this time, four or five weeks into my “care giving”, that Joey took up pinching me, usually when I was in the middle of something (like putting a diaper on him, or feeding him) and couldn’t redirect his hands. It was, with an occasional kick or two from Joey on February 15^th, 2003 that sealed my fate as a caregiver. I left four hours into my five hour “tour”, calling Rural Metro I told them wouldn’t go back.

I’m sorry my time with Joey ended that way it did, but what the fuck, for $8.00 an hour I’m supposed to drive forty miles (round trip), struggle trying to communicate, and physically abused. Ah, I think not.

So I say to Joey’s father, I’m sorry but enough is enough and I wished I could have done more. I hope for the best for you and your wife, and mostly Joey, best of luck.

Rural Metro was “mater of fact” (in my opinion) to this turn of events (see Rural Metro for a few more thoughts on the subject).

I decided, at that point, that this (not just Joey but the whole Home Health Care thing) wasn’t for me and I needed an exit plan for Mr. Jimmy and Pete, sooner rather than later.