Day #3-1/2 - The Kindness of Friends and Neighbors

O.K. So I have to admit up front that I'm probably going to be a slacker blogger. Last night after getting home from the hospital -- and I was very tired -- it was "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" or blog, and Harry won--although I only made it half way through the movie.

So about that snow I was talking about. Well it just kept on through the night dumping multiple inches. When I took the dogs out they were up to their necks, which delighted Moe who just starting spring ing through the air instead of walking,

and was o.k. with Sophie too who now was able to walk in the trail he was blazing. Shoveling out the car, however was a little daunting, with about three feet of snow all around it.

For a moment I had a sense of panic that I wouldn't be able to get to the hospital, so I charged out there with broom and shovel and started going at it. About ten minutes in I was joined by my neighbor Kevin with his broom and shovel, and we worked at it together for about a half

hour until we were at least able to see the wheels. He said to me "You go in and have a cup of tea, and get ready to go, I'll finish this." So I did. And emerged an hour later to find my totally clean car moved to the other side of the road waiting for me. . .

Meanwhile, Zeke called. His lovely wife Karen, my friend and co-conspirator in acts of novelistic indulgence, had baked brownies for Andrew. Now I have to tell you that Karen brownies are not normal brownies. Karen's brownies are acts of love and caring in and of them selves. Made from scratch with REAL chocolate, each bite just puts you in a state of bliss and the minute they reach your line of vision they make you drool. Perfect for the man who has been starved for two days because of pre-op and post-op rules! Zeke tells me he will walk them through the snow to make sure that I have them and not get stuck on their street.

In my clean car with brownies in hand, I finally make it to the hospital. "He's sleepy today," the nurse whispered to me as I walked in the room. More than sleepy, he was out cold and didn't even hear me. So I just sat down and watched him sleep for a while. Now my friends with children have all mentioned to me the wonder of watching their kids sleep --- well, now i think I get it. Its a very peaceful experience to watch that rise and fall of a loved one's chest in a contented and oblivious-to-the-world sleep. It sure does make everything seem o.k. . . I was tempted to take photo for the blog but I knew he'd kill me.

When he woke up he was in good spirits but struggling a a queasy stomach because he hadn't eaten in more than 24 hours. The staff was totally doting on him (They have all obviously fallen for the accent) and checking on him all the time, adjusting medicines to try to make him feel better. In typical Andrew fashion, he could tell me that the night nurse has three children

ages 8, 10 and 14, and that she was his favorite because she didn't wake him up. 3 p.m. was the magic hour that he would be able to eat again, and he said his main man, Jeremy, the day nurse was scheduled to whip him up something as soon as the clock ticked over. I left him to sleep it off.

Later when I came back that evening he was much more perky and talkative. "Did you eat?" I asked. "Yes, some fish that's never seen the sea and some potatoes that have never seen the earth." I thought at first that this was a drug induced existentialist statement, but then realized he was just commenting on the quality of the food. "I'm eating everything they give me" he explained (whether he likes it or not -- a good thing). Left him at about nine contently watching the Olympics. I asked him if he wanted company tomorrow, i.e. other visitors.

He thought for awhile and said "No, I just want to sleep. They don't give you enough time to sleep around here." So there's the word on that.

When I came home to check on the dogs between visits, I could see that the snow shoveling

fairy had obviously been around. This time I recognized the work of my other neighbor Joseph, the ex-Marine. The military precision of the edges was amazing, and not a drop of snow on all my steps, sidewalks and paths, front and back of the house. A work of art! And I was so grateful! As I walked up the stairs my neighbor Matt across the street came out to yell over, "Just let us know if we can help you. We can take care of your dogs for you." Found soup on my doorstep from my other neighbor Barre. Like manna from heaven compared to the diet of cold cereal and hospital food of the past few days. . . All this kindness is almost overwhelming. . .Sam and Jenny taking care of my dogs; Ann exhausted still finding time to visit; Suzanne and Tracey protecting me and warding off the masses so they don't bug me; Denise's texts, Carla's calls, postcards, and massage gift certificates! The tons of emails, and phone calls from friends, students, ex-students, and colleagues all over the place! I thank you all!!!

I've been telling my students in my art history lectures for years that it is our ability to rationalize that historically distinguishes us as human beings, but I believe now that that is far surpassed by our ability to be kind. . . this is truly what makes us special. ..

So, I leave for now (since Moe is begging me for his walk) with the work of the soon-to-be famous artist Max Wysocki (age 5)and his marvelous double portrait "Andrew and Lucinda, holding hands about to go down a slide. in the sunshine." --- a most accurate portrayal of where we are.