NOVEMBER 23rd.

November 23rd has so much meaning in my life it is hard to fathom the depth and broadness of it all. Back in 1971, on the day after Thanksgiving, after I took my girlfriend at the time home to meet my mamma and poppa, I asked her to marry me. I really don’t know where her head was as she said yes to my proposal. I didn’t have to offer her money or special tributes, she just said yes. Shame on me, for taking advantage of her kindness and fortunately she never took it back.

We have spent all these past years together, seeking out more happiness, giving to each other and never looking back. I guess life has been amazing in that respect. In spite of all the things that have happened to us, we have held together, she has me under my right arm and I have her under her left arm.

But this date has not been good to us either, for it was on this date that our second son Joseph, at the about 1½ years of age was put in North Shore University Hospital after suffering seizures the night before. It would be mostly his home until he died the following January after a heroic fight.

All this came to me today as I sat in my daughter’s room waiting to speak to a nurse about her mysterious malady, battered and bruised by the past 5 months we as a family have had, and wondering if the nightmares will end. I guess it all came back to me because it feels eerily familiar as I stood in the threshold of her hospital room. Her sweet little face is no longer bloated from the medications they are feeding her from the IV, her head resting soundly on her pillow, her mind far away from the realities of her suffering. Her body is but a shell of herself as she lays almost in a contorted yet serene way, her sheets over her face and unaware that her brother and father are standing over her, fretting.

As we left the hospital, we surmised quietly and reflectively about what is happening, and what will happen. Thinking about how much she has been through since August when she fell and caused a brain bleed, then her hip, she was one tired and unhappy person who can’t express or demonstrate her discomforts.

Later today the doctor called me, and as I saw who it was on phone window my heart skipped all the way back to my childhood. The news I got was good, her numbers are getting better and they were able to get her to have a bowel movement for more tests, but they are concerned about her not eating.  I called TLW (The Little Woman) to tell her and she asked me to find out what time breakfast is so we could go up there and see if we could get her to eat.

Dealing with people on the phone lately has become a frustrating chore, communication can be tricky as the party of the other end is usually ready to say no to anything and anyone to exert power, just ask their mothers.

Me: “Hello? Hi, my name is Joe Del and I need to speak to the nurse’s station on the second floor.”

Her: Where’s that?”

Me: “Well, the building has three floors, the second floor is between the first floor and the third floor!”

Her: I KNOW THE BUILDING HAS THREE FLOORS, WHERE IT IS… WHAT UNIT?

I am having too many crises about now.

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