In the hospital lobby, there is a Starbucks stand. I've never understood paying a minimum of $1.50 for just the smallest cup of coffee, but neither do I like the vending machine which drops a cup and fills it with a liquid that is hot and brown, but somehow not really coffee. At the Starbucks counter, people stand in line five deep each morning for their lattes and grandes. Strange gurglings and grunts come from behind the counter as the man in front of me orders some concoction. The sounds are not too unlike the ones I've listened to all night at my dad's beside. The too jovial coffee barrister expects a tip, loudly thanking each tipping customer who drops change in her obvious jar.
I take my black, nothing in it, no whipped cream, no steam, no cinnamon or chocolate shavings. Just coffee please. She hands me a cup and I have to pour my own from pumping thermos's. the barrister keeps the nickel change with a smile. I walk the long corriders back and sit with dad, sipping the coffee. At that point, I'd had no sleep for 24 hours. After my coffee, I felt I could fly a jet plane without fuel. I had learned the secret.
Notes:
The ventilator has been turned back to encourage dad to breathe more on his own. I sit and watch him breathe.
The wind chill makes it feel like less than 0 degrees F. The hospital is so insulated from the world, I don't feel it. I worry about my chickens going outside back home.
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10 comments:
Don't worry, I won't let the chickens freeze.
Love,
Lauren
Dear Junosmom,
For the atrociously little it is worth at this moment, there are people hanging in there, for you, whom you only know from the eworld.
We are just sending you our best.
And truly, although of course none of us knows what you are going through, we are joined through our common humanity and a point of connection; you.
As John Donne said within one his meditations, meditation 17, in his later, priestly days:
No man is an island, entire of itself;
Every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were,
as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were
any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind
and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls
It tolls for thee.
And by that, he means that it tolls for all of us.
So, for what it is worth, we are here, and there, with e-support for you. Because that bell, and that ventilator, and that chair, and that coffee are things we all share, or will, or have.
And we all only wish you, your father, and your extended and direct family only the best and the most support.
There is no need to approve and publish this. It is just for you.
Chris
I don't drink coffee anymore. I like it, but like you, I don't need the habit.
Continued prayers for your dad.
Fingers crossed, Junosmom.
I have relished expensive plain coffee in the hospital, too. Never did it taste so good.
It was hard for me to know where to be. Being a daughter, a wife, and a mother. It's such an intense place to be.
Try to take care of yourself as you care for those you love.
Oh---it's cold here, too-- this morning it was -10. My chickens are doing ok---mostly choosing to stay in but venturing outside as well.
what is it about that place...I drink iced tea every day. I like the tea they have at Panera better, and I get more with their large than I get at bux, and for less money. So why do I still go there? I feel like a robot, devoid of any sensibilities. "$2.10? Ok. And here, have another 0.50 for your trouble."
Sheesh
I pray your dad shows remarkable improvement today. Best to all of your family
I've only ever had a "normal" hot chocolate from Starbucks, once. I wasn't impressed.
Oh Cath, of all the things to be thinking about at 2:30 in the morning... when the alarm went off this morning & I took a moment to come to my senses, you/your dad were what came to mind. I then remembered the comment I left yesterday & was horrified to think you might misunderstand my remark about "being just up the street"... I wasn't suggesting my "professional services"!!, but rather myself, a warm body, a friend, someone to cook a hot meal for the family, or if you needed someone for whatever reason.
I'll stop babbling now & hope your dad gets to go home ASAP!!
Lauren, I know my dear. I'm just a worrier as you know. I don't have it set up right at present.
Chris, your presence is a great comfort, even if your words make my eyes water a bit.
Thank you, Kristin for your prayers. It's the money expense I don't need. I still like coffee!
Debra, that's exactly how I feel and a disorientation with what day of the week it might be.
Thanks, Mark, and it is the exorbitant cost I can't get over.
Kim, thanks for the first laugh today, and laughter helps. It never crossed my mind that you were thinking business. I know you better than that. 'Sides, he lives in Cincinnati, AND he's getting better!
I am presently drinking home-brewed Kona Macadamia coffee with ice cubes. Ah, nothing like iced coffee.
I have never visited a Starbucks so don't know what I am missing.
I hope and pray that your dad gets better. And you should get some rest, too. Going 24 hrs without sleep will make you hallucinate.
Our hearts are with you! Warm aloha-
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