Day One Hundred Seventy Four: June 22
Southerners do nothing without food. Every one of life’s milestones comes with accompanying haute cuisine; births, holidays, birthdays, graduations, homecomings, revivals, weddings, housewarmings, and any sort of get-together. I have been home three nights, and three friends have brought us meals. Wednesday night was Sarah with pork chops and pork tenderloin, and then tonight Betty from Mom and Dad’s church brought dinner, followed not long thereafter by my high school-and-still friend Amy, who dropped by with casserole and brownies.
Mom’s first chemotherapy went well today. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I came away surprised. The infusion center was a positive place where people came to fight cancer. Nurses had relationships with patients and it was easy to tell from their conversations that these spanned multiple weeks; nurses remembered the details of what a patient was doing between visits and followed up at the next visit. Patients encouraged one another, and nearly everyone had a family or friend with them. To our left there was a mother and son. To our right was a Navy vet and a friend with him a fellow old Sailor. They spent the time telling old seas stories. Our nurse’s name is easy to remember; she has the same name as M.
The greatest enemy today was boredom, and if no one is paying urgent attention to you in a hospital, that is almost always a good thing. I always laugh at the irony; hospitals have such terrible food. You would think places devoted to wellness would have whole food, but no, it’s fast and greasy. We chowed down on McDonald’s. Mom had a healthy appetite and felt encouraged.
We got home around four and vegged for an hour or so before making the dinner that Betty brought us. Our refrigerator is full, and is filling faster than we can eat it empty, with no end in sight to the incredible love our friends are showing us. Truly we are blessed to have amazing friends who touch our hearts by filling our stomachs. Thank you, all.