Monologue Mania: Monologue Mania Day # 1519 Warehouse (for Caregivers Anonymous) by Janet S. Tiger (c) April 14, 2018

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Monologue Mania Day # 1519 Warehouse (for Caregivers Anonymous) by Janet S. Tiger (c) April 14, 2018
Caregivers Anonymous is-
-the recipient of a San Diego Foundation Creative Catalyst Program Fellowship grant
-sponsored by Playwrights Project and
-has a website now - CaregiversAnon.org

For other monologues from Caregivers Anonymous, please see Days # 268, 270, 271, 273, 284, 285, 286, 314, 317, 380, 412, 444, 454, 455, 456, 473, 474, 475, 476, 483, 484, 513, 514, 566, 569, 666, 692, 702, 714, 777, 778, 782, 783, 797, 802, 812, 813, 820, 869, 874, 881, 889, 903, 917, 1422, 1423,1498 and today's 1519

Warehouse

(for Caregivers Anonymous)

by Janet S. Tiger

tigerteam1@gmail.com

(A young man in his 20s stands up, goes to the wheelchair and sits heavily)

When people ask me where I work, I tell 'em...a warehouse. I work in a warehouse. One year now. Longer than most people....because the work....is not so interesting.

They don't ask anymore.

And I don't tell 'em.

Once in awhile, someone used to ask what kind of things we had in the warehouse.

I would say.....nothin' much.

And then we'd talk about their job. Which was always more interesting than mine.

Then, this girl started workin' in ....the warehouse with me. And she was pretty. Angela.

But she didn't last long. It was too hard. She was, you know, gonna have a baby and she wasn't strong enough to lift heavy stuff. Even with all the tools they give us. Hoists and pulleys….and lift belts.

You see, I work in a warehouse….for people.

Some of the guys, they laugh and call it a vegetable farm. But I think it’s kinda cruel.

Y’see, all the people I take care of....... are not conscious anymore. They are in a state of…I dunno….vegetation.

And my job is to keep ‘em healthy. Turn ‘em over and check for bed sores, prop ‘em up for when the doctors need to look at their backs. Change them…..the colostomies, the tubes, the bags….. the diapers

Angela, she had her baby and after she had the baby she only came back for one week before she left….forever I guess. She said it was too depressing.

But she told me to come here, to talk to this group….because she said it could help me. I don’t see how….I mean, these people never get well. They only have one place to go, and that’s usually the….well, the guys say the dump, but I say, the cemetery….or the wind. That’s for the folks who get cremated…..

For these people, no one comes to visit them anymore. I guess.....I guess I feel sorry for them…..

(Turns to go back to his seat, stops looks back)

..or maybe….I just wonder, if one day, in I dunno, a hundred years… I’ll be in the warehouse….

(The others touch his arm as he passes, lights dim on this scene)

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