Wednesday, March 2, 2011
I called Mike at the hospital Tuesday to see how he was doing—he sounded good, but his prognosis did not. He still wanted new batteries and his glasses, so I promised to pick them up at the Soldiers Home and deliver them. At the Home, every nurse and resident I saw asked me to send their thoughts.
When I got to Mike’s hospital room today, a nurse was prepping him for a sterile procedure, so I basically dropped off his stuff, tried to distract him from all the measuring and poking going on around him and told him I’d come back after lunch: The nurse was kicking me out, anyway.
I left feeling kind of shaky. Not only had I thought Mike would be back at the Soldiers Home by now, but he’d also told me his son had been called to attend a conference with the doctor and case manager later today.
I walked in to Taco del Mar behind a man dressed in military camouflage. I have never done this before in my life, but when he got up to the cash register, I barged up and announced I wanted to buy his lunch. He looked at me very humbly. “Thank you for your service,” I told him. “I have a friend from the Soldiers Home who’s in the hospital, and it’d make me very happy to do this for you in his honor.”
He simply said, “Thank you, ma’am.”
It did make me happy. (Also: Wow. Those military guys sure eat a lot for lunch.)
I went back to see Mike, and the sweet lady visiting Mike’s roommate brought me a chair. Mike looked good, and felt like talking—especially about Deep Things.
“I wonder who I’m going to want to talk to in heaven,” he said. “Besides God, I mean.”
He decided on his Grandma Rose. His eyes filled for a minute, and he told me this story:
When Mike was dating Nell, the woman who would become his wife and the mother of his son, Grandma Rose was in the hospital. Mike’s dad told him that if he wanted Rose to meet Nell, they’d better get to the hospital quickly.
They did, but when they got to Rose’s room, the bed had been made, and the room was empty.
“Oh, no,” Mike thought. “We’re too late.”
He asked a nurse whether Rose had passed on, and the nurse laughed. “She didn’t pass on,” the nurse said. “She got pissed off and called a cab and left.”
Sure enough, Mike and Nell found Rose at home. Rose loved Nell, and Nell loved Rose. Rose was very, very old, but she told them both, “I will see you at your wedding.”
And she did. She lived to 104.
Now my eyes were filling. “That’s where you get your toughness,” I told Mike.
He’s going to need it. I could use a little myself.
I called Mike at the hospital Tuesday to see how he was doing—he sounded good, but his prognosis did not. He still wanted new batteries and his glasses, so I promised to pick them up at the Soldiers Home and deliver them. At the Home, every nurse and resident I saw asked me to send their thoughts.
When I got to Mike’s hospital room today, a nurse was prepping him for a sterile procedure, so I basically dropped off his stuff, tried to distract him from all the measuring and poking going on around him and told him I’d come back after lunch: The nurse was kicking me out, anyway.
I left feeling kind of shaky. Not only had I thought Mike would be back at the Soldiers Home by now, but he’d also told me his son had been called to attend a conference with the doctor and case manager later today.
I walked in to Taco del Mar behind a man dressed in military camouflage. I have never done this before in my life, but when he got up to the cash register, I barged up and announced I wanted to buy his lunch. He looked at me very humbly. “Thank you for your service,” I told him. “I have a friend from the Soldiers Home who’s in the hospital, and it’d make me very happy to do this for you in his honor.”
He simply said, “Thank you, ma’am.”
It did make me happy. (Also: Wow. Those military guys sure eat a lot for lunch.)
I went back to see Mike, and the sweet lady visiting Mike’s roommate brought me a chair. Mike looked good, and felt like talking—especially about Deep Things.
“I wonder who I’m going to want to talk to in heaven,” he said. “Besides God, I mean.”
He decided on his Grandma Rose. His eyes filled for a minute, and he told me this story:
When Mike was dating Nell, the woman who would become his wife and the mother of his son, Grandma Rose was in the hospital. Mike’s dad told him that if he wanted Rose to meet Nell, they’d better get to the hospital quickly.
They did, but when they got to Rose’s room, the bed had been made, and the room was empty.
“Oh, no,” Mike thought. “We’re too late.”
He asked a nurse whether Rose had passed on, and the nurse laughed. “She didn’t pass on,” the nurse said. “She got pissed off and called a cab and left.”
Sure enough, Mike and Nell found Rose at home. Rose loved Nell, and Nell loved Rose. Rose was very, very old, but she told them both, “I will see you at your wedding.”
And she did. She lived to 104.
Now my eyes were filling. “That’s where you get your toughness,” I told Mike.
He’s going to need it. I could use a little myself.
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