I have put a small step stool in the Jeep. I have an old no frills Jeep Wrangler. It is a soft top and has absolutely no frills. I have brought some rubber floor mats from CostCo to cover up some of the small holes that are where you would put your feet.
It is a warm summer day and I have cleaned the Jeep out. I did not think this all the way through. When I called John a couple of days ago to ask him if I could pick him up for coffee, he sounded tired and a little hard of hearing. The write up on John, said that he wanted to go out for coffee and donuts. He just wanted to get out. I told John, I would pick him up in my Jeep and that we would go for coffee.
Thank you google maps, I did a quick search of coffee / breakfast places that were near his address. John lives within a couple blocks of the University. IHOP is 2 miles away and has plenty of handicapped parking. I have googled the IHOP coffee and breakfast menu and there is no way I can go wrong here.
In our last call, I agreed that we can meet in the lobby of the managed care facility and that I would take him for coffee in the Jeep. I am wearing the purple Hospice shirt that looks like complete hell on me. I have my name tag on and arrive 20 minutes early (we agreed to meet at 10:00) At 09:50 I walk into the reception desk, tell them I am a hospice volunteer and tell them that I am here to pick up John. They ask if they can ring him to tell me that I am here. I said no and say I will wait outside. I ask what John looks like so I can identify him when he comes down. I get a generic description of what John looks like.
I began to scare the residents from 09:50 - 09:58, when John actually walks down the steps and walks over to me to introduce himself. He has a head full of gray hair and a
yellow down vest with ski area patches on his jacket. He has a strong
steady gaze and a firm handshake. John does not look like he should be in Hospice care. He looks strong and vibrant. John waves away the step stool and climbs into the Jeep.
“Where are we going” John asks in an upbeat voice
“I was thinking we could drive over the IHOP and get coffee there”
John turns in his seat to face me. “Did they tell you I was dying?”
“Yes
they did” I can feel my face start to flush. I am trying to decipher
what I have done wrong or what in my demeanor he doesn’t like
“Why would you take a dying guy out for a crappy cup of IHOP coffee” he said and smiled broadly at me.
John has an engaging way about him and I can’t help but smile back at him. Taking a dying man to IHOP is not the worst idea I have ever had but it is close. IHOP coffee is like getting coffee at an Interstate rest stop, vending machine. It is hot, and has a taste vaguely resembling coffee. It is a place to get hot liquid that will tide you over until you can stop and get a real cup of coffee.
Stripped of any purpose and dignity I had before I arrived, I ask him simply "Where do you want to go?"
John smiles a huge smile and says "Lets go over to the new coffee on Pearl Street"
"Done" I tell him, I am relieved and happy that he is going to give me a second chance to know him.
20 minutes later I am in front of a Frappe Mocha with sour cream coffee cake. I do not know what to say, I want to tell him (but can't) that if I was dying, a Frappe Mocha and sour cream coffee cake would be a step in the right direction to making the world seem right.
As is often the case, John asks me why I volunteer for Hospice. Hospice patients have amazing bullshit detectors. I know to answer him in the most straight forward way possible. I tell him simply that I meet people and get to know people who are outside my comfort zone. I have met authors, painters, artists, and people who have lived the life that I am trying to live now.
John begins to tell me about his very successful
white collar career back east and his very happy long marriage. He has
two successful sons who have settled close to where he is now. When his wife died, he lived in their family home and maintained appearances that he thought people expected of him. He maintained this lifestyle for two years and felt like his purpose in life had died with his beloved spouse.
He decided to sell everything and move to Colorado to learn to ski. He decided that his bucket list was still in front of him and worked to chip away at it. The patches on his jacket are the things he checked off his bucket list very late in life.
John begins to tell me about his love of trains and riding throughout the West on trains. I am enthralled, I have always imagined doing this very thing.
“I have never ridden a train, but it is on my bucket list” I tell him
“How old are you Mike?” he asks smiling. Before I can answer he tells me
“The
only real regrets I have had in my life was finding out how easy the
things on my bucket list were to do” he said and winked at me.
I am six months into Cappuccino's Mocha's, Macchiato, and Latte's and I am in awe of the things John has crossed off his bucket list. I am also painfully aware of how large my bucket list is at this point in time.
John is patiently trying to tell me I may be a little lazy in the pursuit of my bucket list. I am not successful in convincing John that I am doing the right thing in applying my resources to the broken dishwasher, the landscaping, and the home projects that are beginning to pile up.
His biggest regret is that a lot of the things on his bucket list were checked off when his wife was gone and his children were grown. John, is teaching me what he wanted to show his wife and children, that the bucket list and the long list of responsibilities that he had could have been more balanced. His wish was that they could have seen him accomplish more of these bucket list items and still be the husband and father that they all needed.
As is often the case with Hospice patients, I feel like John has volunteered to help me get my own life in order. I want to ride a train, hike a week long trail, get a Jeep that is not 20 years old. I want to volunteer at events and see people check off items on their own bucket list. I want to grab someone who is lost navigating in life and tell them how fucking wonderful and magical this immediate moment is.
A new dishwasher is a wonderful comfort item but as I load the dishes into it, my heart does not soar. A manicured garden is not what you will remember me for. Home projects are part of everyday life.
So to the weeds in the garden, the old dishwasher and the list of home projects I want to tell you in all sincerity, that I see you clearly. You are on the list, along with train rides, week long train hikes, and volunteering at those events that are important to me. The length of time you get to reside in my head and heart is limited.
To John, the length of time you get to reside in my heart and head is not limited. You are still there today. You never did die, you stayed in my head to show me how to live my current life. The weeds are going to get taller when I am away riding the the Royal Gorge Route Railroad.
Weeds, I will get you when I get back.
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