Thanksgiving

My Thanksgiving was really good. The best ever food –wise, for sure, since it’s so much easier to cook for 10 than 20.

There was bit of apprehension, though. I had thought Great Aunt Gloria and Great Uncle Warren would not be coming, because he had just had a pacemaker installed the day before. And the week before that, they thought he had TB and we visited him and had to wear masks, but they then decided it was “just” pneumonia and a kidney problem. So, I was pretty sure, we were setting the table for 8. The night before I called my Great Aunt, just to be sure. She said Uncle Warren had just been moved to rehab that day, but that she was going to “break him out” out of rehab (her words), against all of his doctor’s strong recommendations and warnings, because she thought it would be better for his spirits to be with family for that day. She would then return him back to his recovery room afterwards.

I played it off like I wasn’t disturbed, although inwardly it seemed to me that the place for him is somewhere where someone else is responsible for his well-being. I told Rob that they would be attending in a very offhanded way, as if it was no big deal. Rob started over-analyzing, as Rob does and wondered if he died in our house, if we’d have to move and pondered about whether my mother (who has saved 2 people’s lives who stopped breathing using CPR) would be able to do it a third time.

They came – he shuffled around and I tried not to watch him eat, because he is diabetic and Thanksgiving is a carb-hardy dinner. Apparently after the cranberry sauce he tested himself and his sugar was so high, he was shooting himself up in the stomach at the table (Rob saw this, I didn’t – I have to tell you, I was trying not to look, in general). After dinner, he needed to lay down in the guestroom, which is when I started to get very nervous. My great aunt pulled the shades and he curled up in the fetal position, with her coat over him (I would have given him a blanket, but when I checked on him he was out cold). I head a whispery sound coming out of his mouth and ascertained that he was alive. I did not feel well myself until he re-emerged in time for dessert. I’m happy to report that eventually they departed to drop him back off at rehab.

I made sure everyone left with a little bit of a Thanksgiving in disposable Gladware. And, I remain grateful that the only mammal dead in my house that day was the turkey.