Cheese Danish Day

It’s been nearly a year since we said goodbye to my husband.  I think about him every day and continue to enjoy the memories of our time together even as I miss him terribly.

The past weeks have kept him even closer to my mind as I find myself reliving those final 19 days that started when he left our home by ambulance on January 23, 2020.  I mentally review conversations, setbacks and progresses.  I remember when he was finally able to breathe without the ventilator and we celebrated small victory!  The day they moved him from ICU and told us to start preparing for his recovery process out of the hospital.  The day they said dialysis was no longer necessary, his kidneys were once again working on their own!  I think about these things analytically, still trying to make sense of the sudden loss.  I’m a planner and don’t particularly like surprises so have wondered over the past 12 months if I was deluding myself about his progress and improvement….but I don’t think so.  We met with social workers who wanted him in a nursing home.  Our family was adamant that he would come home and the hospital gave me lists of what that would entail.  Nurses to help with his care.  Hospital bed.  Wheelchair.  Ramps.  Zero-clearance shower. We were all planning for him to come home. Except him. And God. They had the last word on February 10.

But there are also funny, silly “Michael Gene” memories along the way.  Today is one.

February 8, 2020 was a Saturday.  It is also the birthday of one of our grandsons.  I always went home at night to sleep – I learned early on that it was important for me to be rested because when he came home I would have much to do.  I am an early riser, so was at the hospital by 6:30.  Mike was sleeping and started stirring around 8.  He asked me for a Cheese Danish.  I went down to the cafeteria but there were none.  I brought him the protein drink he’d been drinking for several days.  He refused it.  He wanted a Cheese Danish.  I went to the lobby to the coffee shop – none there.  I checked vending machines and struck out again.  I left around 10:30 to run some errands and said I’d look while I was out.  I stopped at QT and they didn’t have any nor did HyVee bakery.  I did my errands – checked the clock and at 11:30 decided he’d be ready for lunch when I returned so I took him a Subway sandwich instead.  He wasn’t eating much so the medical staff encouraged me to bring anything that I thought he might eat.

The minute I walked in his room, he said “Where’s my Cheese Danish?”

“I couldn’t find one but it’s lunch time so I brought you a sandwich from Subway.”

He shot me a look and growled “Did you hear what I said?”  (This had gotten to be a daily comment from him – usually when he was telling me he was going home, or that he didn’t want to do PT and I was insisting that he was going to follow the rules.)

I started laughing and said “I did hear what you said.  But I couldn’t find a Cheese Danish so I brought you lunch instead.” 

He didn’t find it funny.  He refused to eat it.  He was adamant that he wanted a Cheese Danish.

I called daughter Rachael who was bringing the birthday boy for a visit and said “Can you please find him a Cheese Danish?”  Her response “Since when does he like Cheese Danish?”  “Since today!”  An hour and a half and 5 stops later, she arrived with the coveted Cheese Danish. 

Mike was happy.  He ate it (well, the middle of it – the outer edges he tore off and discarded.)  He drank his protein shake but never did eat that sandwich.  Instead, it was my dinner that evening. 

Cheese Danish was on his menu Sunday and again on Monday (along with cheese pizza and root beer!)  Rachael and I have laughed about it often since.  He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it and we were only too happy to oblige.  Even for something as difficult to find as a Cheese Danish!  (For the record, Starbucks…..)

So today I have declared Cheese Danish Day.  In spite of snow-packed roads and 5 lonely degrees this morning, I stopped at Starbucks on my way to work and got a Cheese Danish to share with my memories.  Mike, it was warm and delicious.  You’d have thrown away the edges and eaten the middle just like you did in the hospital.  I’d have shaken my head at you, laughed and cleaned up your mess.  It’s been a crazy 12 months – I miss you every day.  But you sure left me much to smile about.