My Hospice Blog – His concern was he couldn’t find his Sudoku game
I often find that a hospice patient can offer me more than I feel I’ve given them. Henry is a perfect example of this.
When I knocked at the door to Henry’s apartment he yelled, “come in.” Before I opened the door, I could smell something cooking. He called me to come into the kitchen where he was cooking stew. He was browning some beef in a pot and had all of the vegetables cleaned, cut and lined up on the counter. Potatoes, carrots, peppers and onions all ready to be added in turn. He stirred the meat with a long wooden spoon and told me how much he enjoyed cooking. He had some secret spices in a bowl. He described how he would add peas at the end when everything else was ready.
I’m not a natural cook, but Henry made it look easy. He had the recipe in his mind and the ingredients on his counter. It reminded me of those cooking shows on TV where the famous chef has everything in glass bowls and speaks with an Italian accent.
Henry motioned for me to sit at one of his kitchen chairs. His apartment has a kitchen, living room and one bedroom. From the hallway you enter into the living room. The kitchen is on the right and the bedroom to the left. On the opposite side of the living room there’s a window. Henry’s apartment is in the basement, so the view is at eye-level to the grass. Henry and I sat in the kitchen and had a long talk. He told me about his interest in cooking, ballroom dancing and painting.
We talked until we smelled something burning. That’s when he went back to cooking. Once all of the ingredients were in the pot, he added the lid and came back to our conversation.
I learned that he worked as an engineer without a college degree. I wasn’t surprised.
One side of his kitchen table was cluttered with paints and brushes. When I asked he proudly presented some of his work. The paintings were small on 8 x 10 inch pieces of stretched canvas like you see in the art section of some stores. He told me the supplies came from his children. He mentioned a daughter, a son with no children and a granddaughter. It was clear that the granddaughter was a favorite.
The small canvases were scenes made from geometric shapes. Think landscapes made from circles, squares and triangles. He was proud of one with a white foreground with yellow triangles. The white became the beach with yellow sailboats in the harbor. I thought the paintings had no emotion, but he described what he saw with warmth and heartfelt affection. Who am I to be a critic?
At one point he told me he was having trouble with his computer. I was surprised and said to myself, “…he’s 90 and uses a computer.” He said he was having a problem and asked me to take a look.
He was using a spreadsheet to list his financial records and accounts. He told me that he wanted everything to be clear when he wasn’t around anymore. He saved the document to his desktop each time he made a change. His desktop was covered with files. He hadn’t mastered a filing system.
His concern was that he couldn’t find his Sudoku game anymore online anymore. I had no idea where he found it and neither did he. I introduced him to Google and told him he could find a zillion Sudoku games.
He sent me an email saying he enjoyed seeing me.
As I said, a hospice patient can offer more than I’ve given. Henry is a perfect example.
