Today started in a driving rainstorm, a wonderful time to stay home in my bathrobe, play Cribbage with Jack, dress in the late afternoon to attend our Yacht Club’s annual crabfeed, and, between these events, braid the stems of a dozen lavender wands I’d woven a month ago. In order to braid the stems tightly, it’s good to let the woven wands dry for a month or so. One of these days, if anybody would like that, I’ll publish my directions for making the wands. One reason I enjoy lavender so much: it, like me, is alkaline-loving. Every fall, just before the rains set in, I give each of my 60-odd mature plants a cup or two of bone meal, much simpler than my nutrition, which requires new infusions a few times a day.
Instead of staying home, today turned out to be a journey that was nutrition for the soul. A former associate called to say that K’s doctor was sending him to the Convalescent Center (CC) on a neighboring island. Could I drive him there?
Of course! K’s a big bear of a man, a retired contractor and sailor who has done a lot for seniors on this island. He has aged in place with his wife of 67 years. She already is in the CC because he could no longer care for her at home. I’d heard yesterday that she was failing, and regretted not having enough time to visit her then. He hasn’t been able to visit her for some time, as it is difficult for him to walk. Jack, who has lunch with K twice a week, agreed that I should go.
“I’ll catch the 3:30 boat & be home for the Crab Feast,” I told him. I tucked a sparkly purple lavender bag sachet into my purse for K’s wife, who loves stylish chotchka.
Forty-five minutes after we got on the ferry, we wheeled into the CC, where the worried-looking administrator approached us. “I’m sorry you had to go out of your way to come here,” she said, “but if we admit K he’ll have to pay the full private fee. His doctor’s nurse couldn’t catch you before you left home, but he’s decided to send K to the hospital on the mainland for three days of tests and treatment; then they’ll discharge him to our place.”
That meant another 1.5-hour ferry ride to the mainland as our islands don’t have a hospital. I called Jack. “Honey, I may not make it to the Crab Feast tonight,” I told him.
“No big deal. K is more important,” Jack reassured me.
The next mainland ferry didn’t leave for two hours, so we had plenty of time for a visit with K’s wife, who is frail and emaciated, dozes off every minute or two, but retains her beautiful smile and personality of a movie star, as befits a girl who grew up in Hollywood.
“K, you’re looking good; your eyes especially,” she told him as he wheeled himself up to her bedside.
K took off his glasses and wiped away a tear or two. “I’m feeling good because I’m in the presence of two beautiful women,” he told her. We all beamed at each other. I was so overcome by emotion for these two lovers that I couldn’t think of a snappy retort.
At lunch before boarding the ferry, I had both starch and dairy, in the form of Asiago cheese in an excellent tomato soup, and half a grilled-cheese sandwich on dark rye. Aside from that, my day-long fare has been completely alkaline as usual.
On the subsequent ride to the mainland, K wanted to use the ferry’s elevator to go upstairs to the bathroom. It was so hard for him to get out of my low car that I enlisted help from a strong-looking male passerby. In the main salon I read to him from Cruising World, one story about catamaran sailing in Baja California, and another one by a middle-aged sailor chatting in a hospital room with his mother, herself a lifelong sailor. I know he enjoyed the story because he listened so intently.
After leaving him at the hospital, before the long ferry ride home, I stopped by the supermarket and bought a lot of organic vegetables plus, as a special treat, a jar of cream to diminish wrinkles. I know it’s probably too late, but I never can say never!
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