Visits to my friend Joan in hospice care have developed a definite pattern. Her best time for being alert is late afternoon. Once my schedule and energy levels open enough to plan a visit, I call her daughter, currently down from Minnesota, living in Joan's house for months now, and putting everything in order ahead of her mother's death, as much as possible. My reason to call is first to find out if she knows of anybody else who plans to visit this day. A crowd is very tiring for Joan, and I like one-on-one conversations in the brief time that works for her. Pam knows who's got plans, and today is a day when she was the only one planning to go. I'm informed she relishes some time when she can plan her own supper at usual supper time, not at 3 before she goes visit her mom, or 8 after she returns. She also respects others' wishes for private conversations.
But could I stop by the house on my way? Joan still had my house key from several years ago when they could come over a couple times in the summer and check on the house, maybe water something in the yard. I've come to like Pam the more I see her, and it's easily inserted into my plans. Once there, she hands me a couple other things that either she or her mom (I can't be sure these days) believe I would appreciate. She's absolutely right. I depart not only with those but a note from Pam to her mom that Joan can read over and over in her leisure to help her remember the various pieces of information contained in it.
Pam also gives me the shortcut directions from Joan's house to the hospice home, which I really like, not just because it shortens my route but takes me on the 303, through a few miles of undeveloped Sonoran Desert. I see it won't be that undeveloped for much longer, more reason to appreciate the drive now.
Our visit lasts less than an hour but longer than expected. She's disappointed that I can't figure out the TV remote any more than she can, but there are no tutorials and only one staff person on site who seems to be taking her own break for a bit. So we switch from family news to talking politics, a favorite topic of both of us, particularly so close to the election.
On my way home, part of my attention is on the spectacular colors in a sunset covering just a sliver of the western sky. The rest of my mind not needed for traffic is planning where to stop and pick up something I should actually enjoy. Every possible carry-out food franchise in the state has a location somewhere along the way home. Do I want egg rolls? A burger? Mexican food? Chicken? My mind settles on Arby's for a French Dip sandwich, and I take that exit. It also covers in a small area a burger & chicken place, Mexican food, Subway, all on my way to my goal. Just as I'm ready to make the next turn, traffic is stopped while four fire engines with lights and sirens rush past in the direction I want to go.
Could I be that unlucky?
While sitting waiting, I glance through an opening between buildings to where my goal sits. Yes, I can be that unlucky. As it turns out, I missed the first engine heading in that direction, as five wind up there. Dang!
OK, burger it is tonight. Good enough, just not the choice. But I drive past my original goal on my way out of the area because it's where there is a light I can safely use to get back on busy roadways in heavy traffic, which suppertime certainly provides. All 5 engines are scattered around their parking lot, none close to the building, no sign of fire, nor water being used, nor any kind of urgency whatsoever. In fact the fire personnel are standing around in small clumps and appear - are you kidding me? - to be eating their suppers there.
I don't expect to ever hear the rest of that story. I guess that leaves me free to make up my own version.
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