Java Jive

A couple years ago, we decided that paying a little extra for some really good coffee was something we deserved, as Hard-Working Individuals Who Don’t Drink or Smoke. The difference between Papa Nicholas, Dunkin’ Donuts, or Eight O’Clock, say, and Folger’s or Maxwell House is really noticeable when you love coffee, as we do. I started out 30 years ago using 2 sugars and cream in my coffee; now it’s “just black”, like Earl has always taken his coffee.
Saturday, June 26, started out with Earl waking me about 5:50 am, saying “time for breakfast!” I had been deep asleep, but vaguely remember a very dumb dream. Again, for that split-second, I thought, “How sweet! He made breakfast & has the coffee going!” Then, again, I realized this was not the same world we lived in 7 weeks ago, since now he is unable to EAT breakfast or even DRINK any coffee. I stumbled downstairs to start setting up his “breakfast”, when I saw that he had put everything out on the table, and just needed that extra set of hands to do the actual feeding. After “ingesting” his pain med with his “breakfast”, I started to make some coffee. He came over & sniffed deeply of the freshly-ground coffee beans. Although he has always told me I was a great cook, I think he misses his coffee more than my stuffed cabbage or kolacki. We could put it into his stomach, via “Godzilla”, but somehow, it’s just not the same.

The rest of Saturday seemed somehow routine, although it was nothing like Saturdays “before”. Debra, the VNA nurse who has been assigned to Earl, (not the same Deb as Friday) came over and introduced herself, took BP & temp, answered questions, etc. She reminded me of someone I had known in the past, so as I was walking her to her car, I told her that I thought I knew her, but her last name was unfamiliar to me. She said she married (again) several years ago, but gave me her previous last name. It turns out that our sons, both 19, were buddies in the same pre-school class at the Hebron Methodist church, and she & I had arranged a carpool with one other mom for the three-day a week class. She & I lost touch after the pre-school class, as we moved to Valpo during the summer of 1991, but she is a genuinely nice person--easy to talk to. She loves being a nurse for the VNA and would not want to work anywhere else.
All total, Earl took in around 1,200 calories on Saturday; I tried to get him to have another “course”, but he said he simply could not do it.

Sunday morning was hot and humid, even as we went to church for the 8:00 service. The church was almost too cool, although Earl said he almost fell asleep during the Message (no offense, Rev. Dave!) and was pretty tired when we got back home. With the addition of apple juice and about a cup of a Culver’s vanilla milkshake (almost melted), I figured out his calories for Sunday at around 1,440, which is still less than he needs. I will talk to Debra tomorrow & see what the VNA dietician is recommending.

I miss our Sunday digest of the morning paper with endless cups of coffee; I miss going to Menards or Home Depot and dreams of remodeling and home improvements. I miss Earl dipping up the huge bowl of ice cream that I nagged would leave him with another kidney stone; I miss making him tapioca pudding (his favorite). I miss the way he took such good care of the cars and the “man” stuff around the house. I miss all of that, but I’m sure not half as much as he misses the basic instinct of eating, and now, drinking, his beloved coffee.