Day Four - January 23Father wears his turquoise button-down sweater with the matching aqua shirt in Dr. Greenwood's office, nodding off while we wait. She wheels her doctor's stool over to face father, knees to knees. She speaks with care and concern, but it isn't enough to keep his eyes open for more than fleeting seconds at a time.
After removing him from all his medications except two, after every effort at medical problem solving is taken, after assigning more tests--when all is said and done, she caresses his arm saying, "Oh, Rev. Gretz, you are like a beautiful, fine vintage car. We are trying to figure out the best possible way to take care of you." He smiles up at her, lifting his head out of a doze.
After removing him from all his medications except two, after every effort at medical problem solving is taken, after assigning more tests--when all is said and done, she caresses his arm saying, "Oh, Rev. Gretz, you are like a beautiful, fine vintage car. We are trying to figure out the best possible way to take care of you." He smiles up at her, lifting his head out of a doze.
The car is fully prepared for the trip to dialysis after seeing Dr. Greedwood this morning. We packed the walker and the tote bag. The usual eyeglasses, wallet, a book to read, cell phone, blanket, neck pillow and tupperware container of snacks are along for the four-hour ordeal. Turning off of Jefferson, onto Henrietta Road, the Big 10 theater complex is the marker for turning left into the dialysis center.
On the right, at that very turn, sits Jay's Diner. Father has spent Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons at this dialysis unit for a year and has intermittently commented on Jay's, "Cher, that looks like a nice diner. Have you ever eaten there? I wonder what it's like." Eating a meal never seemed like the best idea right before sitting in his dialysis chair four hours straight, so he never tried it.
Western New York winters can be gloriously snow-filled. This one is not disappointing. There is something entirely enchanting about the depth and continuity of snowfall in this region. One day of it in a place like Atlanta and the residents think the world is coming to an end. But here, daily life activities move ahead almost as though it is a privilege to overcome the adversities.
In keeping with that spirit I pull into Jay's Diner to pass the time with father before his dialysis appointment. The hugely strong winds whip our hair and steal our breath, the temperature cuts directly through any layers of outer wear we've constructed, and the icy pavement and sidewalks create a challenge to the most able-footed. Here we are, managing portable oxygen, a walker, and father's limitations, navigating our way into Jay's.
On the right, at that very turn, sits Jay's Diner. Father has spent Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons at this dialysis unit for a year and has intermittently commented on Jay's, "Cher, that looks like a nice diner. Have you ever eaten there? I wonder what it's like." Eating a meal never seemed like the best idea right before sitting in his dialysis chair four hours straight, so he never tried it.
Western New York winters can be gloriously snow-filled. This one is not disappointing. There is something entirely enchanting about the depth and continuity of snowfall in this region. One day of it in a place like Atlanta and the residents think the world is coming to an end. But here, daily life activities move ahead almost as though it is a privilege to overcome the adversities.
In keeping with that spirit I pull into Jay's Diner to pass the time with father before his dialysis appointment. The hugely strong winds whip our hair and steal our breath, the temperature cuts directly through any layers of outer wear we've constructed, and the icy pavement and sidewalks create a challenge to the most able-footed. Here we are, managing portable oxygen, a walker, and father's limitations, navigating our way into Jay's.
Once inside, he is enthralled--the gloss, the shine of vintage relics and decor, booths and counters teeming with customers, display cases lined with slices of pie and cheesecake! He has a passionate attraction to many places and things that never ceases to amaze. He is thrilled by cars, especially immaculately clean ones. He is thrilled by castles, tomato plants, brass bands and jelly donuts. He loves a good fishing experience and a minor league baseball game. He collects stamps and coins, loves to sing, travels extensively, recites poetry memorized years ago, and --he likes a good diner!
In recent days we had conversations about the fact that one needs to eat to live. He says he is not hungry anymore. We discussed how sometimes one might need to eat in the same way one takes medication, because it is necessary. He says he has no taste for food. His refrigerator is full of uneaten meals.
However, when the hot roasted turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes and gravy is placed in front of him, he dives in. I do not mention it is full of salt. Furthermore, I ask the waitress to pack him a slice of cheesecake to go.
My hat is off to Jay's Diner for that blizzardy Rochester noon-time.
Viva vintage!
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