Momentary Reprieve

Nope.  This is not an image from the Epstein files.  The fellow who sent it hasn't been mentioned so far as I know.  This is just a group of kids at a party in the basement of a friend's house, kids having fun.  I've forgotten what it is like to laugh ridiculously and have stupid fun.  No, I can still remember laughing until I couldn't breathe, but it has been years now.  Ili and I were like grown up children sometimes.  I remember my mother telling one of her friends, "They do that a lot."  

Ho!

I post this today to get away from the constant moan this has become.  Nothing new happened with my mother yesterday.  She is still lying in a bed in a shitty room.  They did do a heart doppler thing on her and physical therapy people did come and get her up and walking.  And at my insistence, they did clean her, and I gave her a toothbrush and toothpaste.  And I did meet with the Case Manager and an imperious Palliative Care person.  And last night, the form was sent to IR for an MRI that has not yet been scheduled.  So there was some forward movement, but. . . nothing has really changed.  My mother doesn't seem to be in as much pain as before.  Her heart and kidneys are good, and I think it is possible that she will live forever.  

But with her in the hospital, even with the hours I spend there twice a day, somehow my days are not as full.  I have hours now. . . with which I don't remember what to do.  I have done quite a bit of work around my house, and yesterday the cleaning crew came so everything is sparkling.  I unwrapped my palms as the temps were only falling into the mid-30s last night.  

And for three nights now, I have not cooked dinner.  

Yesterday was, in fact, a gastronomical feast.  O.K.  I exaggerate.  But, while my mother was getting the heart doppler thing done, I went to the Lakeside Cafe at the hospital.  It is not the big cafeteria with the sushi, I so stupidly/bravely had one day (surely made from amputated parts) that actually was not horrible, 

but another, much smaller place that serves no flesh at all.  The hospital is a longstanding one.  It has been here since 1907, first opened by the Seventh Day Adventist as a Sanitorium for TB.  Later, it expanded and became a hospital.  When I was a kid growing up here, it was famous, at least among us kids, for having a psych ward.  These were the days of straight jackets, and tales of escaped lunatics were popular among my crowd.  It is the very same hospital in which my father was housed after his automobile accident long, long ago when I was a senior in high school.  But that is another story for some other time.  

Over the years, the hospital has expanded until it is now a behemoth that covers what must be square miles of town.  Last time my mother was there, if you remember the photos, she stayed in one of the newer building with an expansive window that looked out over the distant downtown.  The place was like a hotel suite.  

This time, however, she is in one of the oldest buildings, probably built in the 1970s and never renovated.  

The old building housing the mental ward was only recently torn down.  

Selavy. 

 In earlier times, when my father was there, this Adventist hospital did not serve meat.  Rather, they served soy based meat substitutes developed at the Seventh Day Adventist college, Loma Linda.  All meals were, as promoted by Adventist religion, vegetarian.  And the food was made fresh for every meal, and at the cafeteria, you could get a breakfast, lunch, or dinner for nearly nothing.  

Now, of course, the food service is farmed out and only very unhealthy, horrible meals are prepared, both for patients and visitors.  

Except for this tiny Lakeside Cafe.  It is true to it's Adventist vegetarian roots.  And that is where I decided to eat while my mother was away.  After a long while looking over the meal choices, I decided on a Caprese sandwich--thick slices of Mozzarella cheese and tomato with basil and balsamic on focaccia bread.  

It was the best thing I've eaten out in a loooong while.  OMG, as the kids say.  It was delicious.  When I go back to see my mother today, I'm sure to have another.  

I'd spent most of the morning and part of the afternoon at the hospital, but there was still a lot of day when I left.  I decided to go to Fresh Market and get some of the groceries I needed hoping to pick up one of their prepared meals for dinner.  I love going to Fresh Market, but it is very dangerous, and so after getting a good organic yogurt and a big organic navel orange, oh. . . I bought some sort of buns for the morning.  I perused the prepared meals. Hmmm.  General Tso's Noodle Bistro Comfort Bowl.  Sesame chicken on a bed of spicy noodles and lentils or some kind of bean.  Onward.  I had a yen for champagne when I walked past the wine shop, but I didn't want to spend $60.  Lamarca prosecco is only good for mimosas, I think, but. . . wait.  Lamarca Luminore.  $21.99.  What the hell.  I'd try it.  

Of course no visit to Fresh Market is over until you've toured the giant candy display.  Chocolate peanut caramel cluster.  Yea, yea, yea.  

I took the groceries back to my house and put things in the fridge.  The house was, as I said, sparkling.  I took the sheets I'd wrapped around the palm trunks and put them in the wash.  I looked around.  It was almost three.  What to do?  I couldn't remember.  So, creature of habit. . . .

I sat outside with a decaf latte and wrote in my journal.  The cafe was nearly empty.  I finished writing on the very last page of the journal.  That one was done.  I put it back in my courier bag, took my coffee cup inside, then drove across the street to the liquor store.  

When I got home, it was not quite four.  Again. . . what to do?  I took the prosecco from the freezer, popped the cork, and poured some into a coup glass.  I went to the deck to sit outside.  

Holy smokes!  You can go right ahead and judge me if I am wrong, but that was as tasty a prosecco as I've ever tasted.  It was more than drinkable.  It was--dare I say--quite good.  It had been a very long time since I took a photo of my drink to send around, so I took the picture.

But, sadly. . . I no longer had anyone to whom to send it.  People are not interested in me anymore.  

Such is life.  

I sat with one glass and then another as the temperature began to dip and I began to feel the chill.  

Not quite five.  Fuck it.  I took the General Tso's out of the refrigerator and plated it, covered it, and put it in the microwave.  How long had it been since I'd used the microwave?  I took the plate and the champa. . . uh. . . prosecco. . . to the t.v. room, put it on the wooden tray, and turned on the television.  

I know I've already said it twice, but this was a three "holy smokes" day.  The General Tso's was delicious.  

There I was, in my own home, eating and drinking in the old places.  My head was spinning with distant familiarities.  

Dinner done, I cleaned up.  I washed the glass and serviceware and hit the disposal.  Nope.  It just hummed, gummed up, I guessed, from months of inactivity.  I have a tool somewhere to use under the sink to turn the gears to get it working again.  But I wasn't ready to look for that, to bend and twist under the sink. . . . 

I locked the kitchen door and drove back to the hospital to see my mother.  

I think I might stay at my house tonight.  I will need to tote things back there.  I will need supplies.  And it will be a little weird, I think, but yea. . . I will go back to my house, I think.  I'm afraid to get used to it because I don't know what is coming up, but for the while, I need to be in my own home.  

Everything is weird.  Everything is sad.  But for a moment, there was food and drink and a lovely afternoon.  

Everyone, from time to time, needs a reprieve.  

Even those who don't deserve it.