Tom and I went to our support groups today. I was disappointed at first because the younger members (and single moms) weren't in attendance today. When you are navigating fear and death with people, you become family. The group is the only family a few of the participants have, and due to the holidays, we've missed the last 2 meetings. I wanted to check in with everyone especially the moms.
We got off to a slow start. Several members talked mortgage rates. The moderators don't normally tolerate that kind of banal, non life-threatening topic for long, but this went on and on and on. I debated when I would get up and get tea. I thought about what tea to get. Would I look in the fridge for milk? Would I get caffeinated? It's probably better, considering my dehydration, to take the herbal, and I think I'll hedge my bets and get what I usually get, orange spice.
Now we were talking chanterelle and morel mushroom gathering. I thought I'd wait until we transitioned to the next person to get up. It would be less rude if we were transitioning and although the next guy was a sweetie, he spent a lot of time talking about his annoying upstairs neighbor. As I was about to make my move, he blurted out that he had moved into hospice. He had moments, days, if he was lucky, weeks to live. The hospice nurse told him he needed to find someone to help him administer medication and tend to him. He hoped he hadn't scared us all too much. He looked in my direction as he said it. I was the newest member of the group and the only one who had not yet seen a member die.
I obviously never got the tea. Instead we helped a man to find a way to prepare for a peaceful death. He said he hoped he could make it to the meeting next week. I hope so too.