A sneaky rotten thief crept into my rehab room and opened my top drawer, looked into my tiny shiny black patent leather purse and stole my Chase Visa credit card.
This scum spent $416.98 at Walmart in Sherrilville, IN, $627.97 at Walgreens; address unknown and $2,502.46 at a Chase ATM in Merrilville, IN. (Who knew you could get that much cash from an ATM?)
When I reached into my purse for coins for the Coke machine, I immediately missed the blue card. I emptied the purse on to the bed; no card. I looked through the near-empty drawer; no card. Puzzled, I called Art who immediately advised that I call Chase to report a stolen card. How could it be stolen? Ridiculous. I’d feel foolish calling in a misplaced card. Besides here comes my dinner tray.
After dinner it was still misplaced. I phoned Chase who logically wanted the card number. I explained it was brand new, I didn’t even get a statement yet for the few inexpensive items Bonnie was good enough to shop for me.
With enough questions and answers they did give me the shocking news. Of course they forgive you the stolen amounts which had been added only in the last two days.
I took this information to the manager of the rehab facility and he was equally distressed and called the police. The officer said we’d never catch the person. They take this kind of job, steal what they can and disappear. “Worst are the caregivers in your house. All smiles and hugs, your best friend until they locate all your valuables and then they’re gone.” My shock registered on my face. “Oh yeah.” He assured me, “all smiles and they give them good care too. Until goodbye valuables.” He’s the guy in uniform. You gotta believe him.
It reinforced my decision to stay here until I can competently get up and down the steps and be self reliant again.
Of course the caregiver may not consider my wonderful costume jewelry “valuable”, but I can’t risk it.