MiguelPosted: June 7, 2015
Miguel barely clung to life.
No arms, no legs and the mind of a vegetable, he was completely dependent on her for everything.
She had been his caretaker for two weeks. His previous was a caring man and under him Miguel had made much progress – he was healthy, much healthier than he had been when he arrived from Texas.
Her job was simple: Feed him, give him water, move him for a while into the sun every day. Somehow she had let him get into this terrible state in just days.
His previous called her “How’s Miguel doing?” She felt embarrassed. “Could you drop by some of the food he so enjoys? I think that would perk him up.” She hoped against hope it would do the trick. She knew Miguel didn’t look well.
The caretaker showed up with the food and wanted to see Miguel. He was astounded. “How could you have let him get into this state? What did you do?”
She was embarrassed and had no answers. “I did everything you told me to do…”
The caretaker took comfort Miguel was unaware of his own suffering and hoped against hope he would survive. She, obviously, didn’t have even a hint of green on her thumbs.