So it wasn’t exactly the Ritz Carlton, but the room did have a private bath, unlimited fresh linens, cable TV, friendly staff and colorful laminated room service menus. Such frills made living in my father-in-law’s hospital room a bit kinder to both our nervous systems.
On Day Three, the nurse performed Dad’s pre-dinner blood sugar check — my cue to get the menu off the bulletin board, hand it to Dad, have him pick out his gourmet fare du jour, then phone in his order.
“Thank you for calling St. Luke’s room service. My name is Michelle. How may I help you?
“I’d like to order dinner for Mr. Rinehart in room 412.”
“He’s on an 1,800 calorie Diabetic Diet. Go ahead.”
“Okay, we’ll take the chicken pot pie, Diet Coke, Waldorf Salad, and apple crisp.”
“He can’t have the apple crisp. He only has one carb left.”
“Dad, you can’t have the apple crisp.”
“But I want the apple crisp.”
“He wants the apple crisp, Michelle. What do we have to do to get it?”
“You can drop the Waldorf Salad. That would you give you the pot pie, Diet Coke and apple crisp.”
“Dad, you can have the apple crisp if you drop the Waldorf Salad.”
“Oh no, I want the Waldorf Salad.”
“Michelle says we have to choose. Which do you want more? The Waldorf Salad or the apple crisp?”
“Both.”
“You can’t have both. You have to choose one or the other.”
“Karen, are you sure you didn’t dial Weight Watchers? Get me the Waldorf Salad.”
“Michelle, he’ll drop the crisp and keep the Waldorf.”
“Fine, you still have one carb left.”
“Dad, you have one carb left.”
“What can I get for one carb?”
“Say Michelle, what can we buy with one carb?”
“You can have grapes, angel food cake, fruit cup or gelatin.”
“Dad, you can have grapes, angel food cake, fruit cup or Jell-O.”
“What color Jell-O?”
“What color Jell-O, Michelle?”
“Orange or red.”
“Orange or red.”
“Red and fruit cup.”
“He wants red and fruit cup.”
“He can’t have both. They’re one carb each and he only has one carb left. Red Jell-O plus fruit cup equals two.”
“Dad, you can’t have both.”
“Fine, I’ll have the apple crisp.”
“Hang on a second Michelle. Dad, You can’t have the apple crisp, remember?”
“Angel food cake.”
“Okay Michelle, I think we’ve got it. Can he have the pot pie, Diet Coke, angel food cake AND Waldorf Salad?”
“Yes. Can I help you with anything else?.”
“Just send the Waldorf Salad, Michelle, and thank y–.”
45 minutes after Michelle’s abrupt disconnect, Dad lifted the mustard gold plastic lids to reveal chicken pot pie, Diet Coke and angel food cake.
You’ll never guess what was missing.
Karen Rinehart is a syndicated newspaper columnist, public speaker, and creator of The Bus Stop Mommies™. Her book, Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life, is a popular read in book clubs, school pick up lines, and soccer fields. She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan, and England. You can read more at BusStopMommies.com. Karen lives in North Carolina with her two kids, two dogs, and one husband, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dogs at home.)
