This happened days ago -- Wednesday -- but it's taken me this long to figure out how I wanted to post about it. I wanted to do more than just recount the facts, because it represented more than just pizza and ginger ale to me.But the ginger ale is a good place to start. John has been very ill for more than a month, and even though he's been home from the hospital since Christmas night, he's still on intravenous antibiotics. That means he can't/shouldn't drink. I believe this is the first time in more than 30 years that we have spent hours together without alcohol. I am pleased to report we're pretty much the same. We still bounced easily from subject to subject, we still laughed a lot.
Which is not to say he's fine. He's anything but. His foot still can't support his weight and so requires a walker. A nurse comes by twice a week to check on the drip and change the bandages. Unable to bathe or wash his hair, he sits around in grungy old pajamas and a cap, dreaming of the days -- still perhaps weeks in the offing -- that will have him luxuriating in a hot shower. Physically fatigued from both the surgery and fighting the infection, he gets exhausted just moving around his apartment, yet he's bored ... bored ... bored!
And notably grateful fo
r my attention. All I did was send this box of penny candy and stop by for pizza and to deliver the essentials he requested: Earl Grey tea bags, skim milk and Chips Ahoy cookies. It hardly seems like too much at all, not after 30 years of friendship.As John recounted his long, dull days, the names of many friends came up. Kathy, Steve, Lori, Gregory ... I hope he realizes that as much as he appreciates all of us, we are just as glad and grateful that he will get well and remain in our lives.
