The second day I was in Michael Garron, my kids visited in the afternoon. That night about midnight, I got a call from my 14-year-old grandson, Caelan.
“Jana, I’m at the hospital, where are you?”
“Caelan, it’s midnight, they won’t let you in.”
“Oh, I’m in,” he replied, “I just can’t remember the floor number.”
I quickly cleared it with the night nurse and the next thing, there he was.On his electric scooter, ripped jeans, fluffy hair sticking out from either side of his backwards Raptors cap, and a bag slung over his shoulder.
“I bought you something, Jana,” he said. And he pulled out of the bag his favourite stuffy toys from when he was a baby, his favourite baby blanket, several packages of herbal tea (he knows it’s my favourite), some oil of lavender and a lavender sachet.
He then lay down on the bed beside me and neither of us said much for almost an hour. He cried, I cried, we hugged. Finally, I said, “Buddy it’s almost one o’clock, Mum will be worried”.
“Okay,” he replied and he got back on his scooter and scooted home.
It seems like yesterday,I had this conversation with Caelan.
***
Health matters from my side of the bed is a collection of humorous (mostly) nonfiction, short stories about the people I’ve met, the food I’ve eaten, the memories that have been triggered, etc. since learning of my cancer diagnosis.
For more information:
email: gwd@ginettewhittenday.com
phone: 416-435-2258.
