Due to a truly unfortunate situation, I have been able to drive Dave to and from the hospital this week. Last week, I was worrying about how to talk Dave out of taking the bus to his chemo treatments. But now, with a lovely comfortable car sitting in the driveway, and with me awake, dressed, and ready to drive him there, it's been an easy sell.
I feel grateful, guilty, happy and sad in equal measures.
Here's what happened: our friend, Joyce, who has been a real support in this whole adventure, drove over to visit last Thursday. She mentioned that she was thinking of buying a bicycle. I have one I'm not using, so I said, "Just take mine." She got on it to try it out, fell off a few minutes later, and broke both wrists. Seriously. Surgery and a cast on the left, a splint on the right. She lives alone. Think about that for a few minutes. What would you do if you suddenly couldn't use either of your hands? So her car is still in my driveway and she said I may as well use it. But every time I start thinking, "Gee this is a nice car, it's so convenient, I can see why people get addicted to these things," I get an immediate pang of, "Oh my gawd, Joyce is suffering, why did I ever open my mouth about that bike," and I get an image of her crashing into the street, and I get a sick feeling in my stomach.
(Image is "Cadillac," a watercolor painting by Robert Townsend, currently at the Hespe Gallery in SF.)
2 comments:
Wow, when it rains it pours. You guys would look cool in a big ol' Caddy, just bop your heads to the tunes as you drive along.
Wish Joyce the best for me when next you speak to her.
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