If it wasn't so sad, it would be funny

Ask anyone whose ever been to college and they'll have one or two stories to share about dealing with a roommate (someday I'll tell you a story that involves a super conservative Christian, a lesbian, and a trashy romance novel).  Roommate assignments are like a box of chocolates.  And until college freshmen start developing problems with incontinence, verbal ticks, and old-man smell, then you haven't experienced the excitement of having a roommate at a long-term care facility.

Granddad's roommate (let's call him "Bob" to protect the innocent) has been here a while.  From what I've gathered he's been in and out of this rehab a few times.  The gaunt, barely-there man in the bed next to granddad looks much different than the plump man in the photos by his bedside.  Now, he doesn't seem like a danger to himself so he doesn't have round the clock care (unlike my grandfather), but in all the time I've been here I've only seen him have two visitors.  So there is a part of me that feels very empathetic to this stranger, a part that wishes I could pull the curtain aside between their two halves of the room and be a companion to both men.

But Bob is a racist.  Or - at the very least - the part of his brain that filters out the "N" word from common vocabulary is gone.  In the 60+ hours I've been in this room, I think he's used MAYBE a dozen words that you wouldn't expect to see scrawled on the bathroom wall in a KKK men's room.  It's especially upsetting when one of the non-white nurses aides try to help him out of his wheelchair, or change his diaper.  You'd think if you were getting paid $20K a year to clean up shit, you wouldn't also have to deal with your patients screaming four-letter words and racial slurs at you while you did it.  I don't know if he has age-onset coprolalia or if he's just a tired, worn down bigot, but it's very unsettling to have to calm your grandfather back down to sleep while someone is rolling around his room yelling "Go f#$% a monkey" or "Son of a b#tch" or "G*ddamn c#$%sucker" (among others).

Bob has other less-than-pleasant quirks as well.  He only eats Tastykake Kandy Kakes (literally, that's all I've seen him eat) and he leaves them half chewed lying around the room.  And he spits.  Like, SPITS.  On the ground, on the furniture... so far luckily not on me, but it's only been a week.  And while I wish Bob could be moved to a different room, who knows what kind of roommate granddad would get then.  The devil you know.