Ron and I have been eating a lot of cereal for breakfast. It is easy to make and he has been completely infatuated with Lucky Charms for several weeks now. Today, however, as I ran through a list of possible breakfast options in the house, he elected pancakes. He came into the kitchen while I mixed the batter, adding a healthy amount of cinnamon and nutmeg. He coached me while I tried out my griddle skills and I made a decent pancake. We realized if I kept making them at my speed, we would be there forever. We also realized I did not make enough batter for how hungry we were (well, really we did, because now we have leftovers, but at the time, it seemed we needed more). So, he took over flipping the pancakes at the stove while I went back to the counter to mix up some more. It was fun to cook together again.
When the pancakes were done, I suggested we eat at the kitchen table instead of the living room, where Ron has been taking most of his meals in his hospital bed. I set the table with all the pancake fixings and wedged Ron’s wheelchair in. As we started to eat, he became tearful.
This one simple act, making pancakes together and eating them at the table, was such a normal thing to do. It triggered a reaction in Ron, because there is so little he can do that is normal anymore. He said that it reminded him of when we were first going out and he would come spend weekends down here. We would stay up late, wake-up and make breakfast, and then decide what to do for the day. He feels sad because he can no longer do the things we used to do. He is so discouraged by the limitations of his body.
I had plans for this afternoon to go to my friend Kim’s and ride a horse. This is something I have been trying to do once a week and my supervisor from work has been willing to come be with Ron while I go ride. Ron pointed out that before he was sick, he used to come to Kim’s with me and would hang out with us while we groomed and then read a book while we went out riding. He said he just wished he could do that now. It is not about me leaving him behind or us being apart. It is just that he wants to still be involved and go out and do things with me, but feels like he can’t.
‘Well, why not?’ I wondered. Kim has a driveway down the hill and out to her barn, so I could drive my car right up. And Ron could visit with us from his chair while we groom. Her husband, Chris, had the day off and volunteered to hang with Ron while we rode. I shared this plan with Ron and he agreed to give it a try – an adventure. He seemed happy to be getting out of the house to do something different, especially on this gorgeous sunny spring day.
Ron has never been much of a horse guy. They frighten him with what he calls their “terrible maws and claws.” But, since I am a horse girl, he has met several and has gone as far as to do a little grooming and feed some treats. The first summer he lived in my house, while he was searching for a job, he even helped Kim while she was on vacation by going out to feed them. I was really hopeful that today he would be up for some horse contact, or maybe even a horse ride, given that Kim and I are both trained therapeutic riding instructors and there were enough people that we could have gotten Ron up and given him two side walkers. But, he was content to just visit with us and the horses from a safe distance and did not desire any close encounters of the horse kind.
Kim and I went on a brief trail ride, which has become our standard activity. When we got back to the barn, Ron was ready to head home, but not before we snagged some yummy food (tuna and veggies) that Chris prepared on the grill. Ron was a bit sore from being up and in his chair for a couple hours, but said he had fun. He ate a decent sized meal and has been napping since we settled back into the house.
I know it meant a lot to Ron to be able to do these things with me today that we used to do. It meant a lot to me, too, to create new memories. It may not be the same as it used to be. He doesn’t have as much energy and can’t stand to cook and can’t walk down the hill to Kim’s barn like he used to. But he can still be engaged and active in his life. He can, from time to time, leave the hospital bed and go out into the world. We can still do things together. I am going to try not to let him forget these facts. Whether it is mere distraction from the sad thoughts that plague him day and night or whether it is creating a life that is worth living, even in the midst of terminal illness, getting him out and about makes him smile. For me, that has value, and I suspect it does for Ron as well.
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