Tres tortillas por favor

Today we waited, walked, waited, walked some more and waited for the big event that will buy us our freedom, Jamie’s first post op BM.

So today was quiet and restful with Leanne and Krystal from Tectonix coming for a visit and bringing us a feast from the Claim Jumper. Anyone who has been to this restaurant knows the magnitude of the portions, and can visualize how I was able to both gorge myself and still feed the rest of our wing.

Ken Sr. also paid us a visit today, delivering several short sleeve shirts. Although hopeful we will depart shortly, this summer weather has caught me a bit off guard. Ken also swapped cars with me, thinking that Jamie may have an easier time getting into Chris’ sedan as opposed to our 4x4 truck when our release finally comes. Thanks for helping coordinate this Jen, I was feeling self concious about my limited wardrobe.

Food is the ultimate ice breaker and I have learned from my Mom and Sharon to be an effective food pusher. Whenever I am in the Cancer Library, heating up a snack or organizing my inventory in the communal fridge, I offer up some sort of tid-bit to whoever is about.

In the elevator today I met our neighbor Debbie who has been here with her husband for over two weeks. Debbie was a willing recipient of some of our food and I was able to introduce her to Jamie while on our evening walk. Debbie and her husband are from Brewster (north of Wenatchee) and have been here for over two weeks as he fights advanced colon cancer. Tonight is their wedding anniversary. Before our cancer experience I would have thought, “oh what a terrible place to pass such an event” but now I see that under these conditions pomp and circumstance have little appeal, as you are just grateful for another day and the opportunity to be together.

Hopefully Debbie and I will cross paths again tomorrow and I can share one of Jennifer Nichols’ fabulous enchiladas with her. Very tasty lunch Jen, especially when combined with some left over black beans from the neighborhood Mexican restaurant.

This little restaurant is just west of the UWMC in an old house on the shore of Lake Union. Its name eludes me, but it is apparently well known as it has been recommended by several people both in and out of the hospital. It has served well as cantina for Joel and I as well as alternate dinner spot and now is the source of one of Jamie’s favorite snacks, tortillas and cheese.

We have been diligent about Jamie taking her medication on a full stomach and thus avoided nausea for over 24 hours. So after dinner tonight I walked down the back side of the hospital, along the lake to refill our supply of this super snack. It of course was Saturday night so the place was packed and I was discouraged by the line for “to go” orders which spilled out the front door and onto the street. Well, it turned out that about half these people were misguided diners trying to get a table, so before I knew it I was standing at the till. Behind the counter was a woman probably ten years my senior and obviously stressed out by the chaos of the Saturday night crowd. I ordered a side of (3) flour tortillas and then attempted to describe to her my requirement for three small sides of cheese, not unlike what a young man had given me in this very same circumstance the night before. She stared at me blankly and then fumbled with the till before turning to ask another for assistance. Grumbling away she hit a few keys and requested payment of $7.22. Feeling a tinge of sticker shock, but also acutely aware of the pressure of the line growing behind me, I tendered a $10.00 bill and eagerly collected my change.

After I received my change, the women briefly disappeared, returning with (3) ½ pint containers. It took me a while to find the words, but I eventually was able to convey to her that I was requesting three very small portions in the small salsa cups (much like you might get tartar sauce in), just as the man had given me the night before. Looking disgusted she asked me just exactly what kind of cheese I was looking for, and I replied jack or cheddar, emphasizing that only one of these large containers will do. She again disappeared to the back, but returned momentarily with my cheese. She then asked me to wait around the corner, placing me directly in the entrance to the kitchen. As the waitresses pushed around me I could see her in the kitchen where she was shouting and waving a fistful of tortillas in the air. A waitress recently impeded by my presence returned to the kitchen and immediately recognized the problem, promptly handing me the package of tortillas that the cook had already prepared for my order.

The cashier retuned to her post where I attempted to delicately ask her if I would be getting a refund now that we had settled on a much smaller quantity of cheese. She pounded the touch screen and as the till popped open, she tore three $1 bills from the drawer. Not to be outdone, I tipped her a dollar in similar style, purposely avoiding the obvious tip jar and throwing it on the counter.

My initial reaction as I stepped out onto the sidewalk was one of anger and disgust. I thought to myself, “what was the big deal, my wife has cancer and wants tortillas and cheese, why is this woman so uncaring?” However as I plodded along back towards the hospital, I reflected on my own situation and realized that there may be more going on than just tortillas and cheese for her as well. This past month has been a humbling experience, as I often wondered what made people cut you off in the grocery store or sit at a traffic light dazed for several seconds after it turns green. Maybe they are having some other issue. You can’t tell if some one’s spouse has a serious illness just by looking at them can you? Maybe they are sick (knowingly or unknowingly) or are experiencing some other sort of catastrophe or hardship themselves. You never know. So maybe we should err to the conservative side and cut them some slack, back off and just help them instead of letting our negative emotions take control.