EARLY MORNING GREETINGS

Every morning, seven days a week I walk into the Medford Multicare Center in Medford, NY. As I enter, I go to the main desk and sign in. At the desk is a wonderful gentleman who greets me and calls me “sir”. I don’t mind his calling me sir or anything else that is friendly because it is the start of my day. Tomorrow I will ask him to call me Joe instead of sir.

As I stroll down the hall and past the nurse’s station, sitting behind the station counter a gray hair lady greets me in her 60s who smiles at me as I say “Good Morning”, and she replies in kind. The lady is an administrator of some kind.

Plowing straight ahead I passed the aids working on the floor and then the nurse who is almost a sentinel as she works her computer outside my daughter Ellen’s room. All give me a smile and a ‘Hello’.

Then I pull in my breath and hold it as I pass the door and enter my daughter’s room and cast my eyes on her bed looking for signs of any kind. Usually, the signs of disarray are present and the look of agony crosses her face. Looking at me she punches her head and then grimaces and looking into my eyes seeks to know why I don’t do something. This is the usual hardest greeting of the morning. I look at her throat, her tree of life that holds an overnight feeding and medications. All this erases the joy of morning and morning greetings from others. 

I will try to make some sense of my day. I will try to do what I can for her first, second and thereafter. Everything else will be secondary for she comes first. I will try to avoid her face that screams silently in agony and penetrates my core knowing she is hurting and there is nothing I can do about it.