My mother has been in the hospital for four months with advanced stages of Cushing syndrome.
Over the weekend she was admitted to the ICU; she lost all vital signs. And then she came back.
She went from lying in the bed to sitting in a chair. She breathed on her own. And she returned to her favorite hospital activity.
“Take a look at the menu of this hotel,” she said. “You can get whatever you want.”
It was a triptych fold out, a menu deluxe. “What have you tried?” I asked her.
“I’ve had it all. The fried chicken is fantastic. The roast beef is very nice, very thin slices and they make it themselves.”
“Mom, I thought you were a vegetarian.” My mother has been a vegetarian for nearly 40 years.
“It doesn’t work out to be a vegetarian at this place. You can’t eat the vegetables.”
One day after Loitering at Death’s Door, her taste buds are fighting for their rights.
She ordered a piece of salmon–no veg–a macaroni salad, blueberry yogurt, two servings of watermelon and a glass of cranberry juice. “It takes 45 minutes from the time you order until it gets here. I can wait.”