Thursday, December 17, 2015

Marcy! Run for the border!

After Marcy delivered our grandson Maxwell 21 years ago, she craved something from Taco Bell. Her sister Jennifer delivered it promptly to the maternity ward.

Jennifer, at left, with her sister Marcy and her nephew Max
Last evening, a text message arrived in Jennifer’s hospital room, where she was recovering from that day’s major surgery. She was surrounded by two caring friends and a night nurse. The text came from Marcy, who was finishing a light meal at a small restaurant nearby.

As a little joke with a nostalgic twist intended to cheer her suffering sister, Marcy texted: “Would you like something from Taco Bell?”

Jennifer was medicated, in pain, recovering from a wrenching experience, but the surgeon had not removed her sense of humor. “Wait,” she instructed her helper. “Let’s order something.”

The conspirators went to work. Marcy well knows that her sister favors an organic menu, that Jennifer has rules about her vegan diet. Marcy was also ready to do absolutely anything for her dear sister, to bring her any form of comfort in her trying hour.

The conspirators, and now the nurse, knew all that. They pressed their advantage.

“Let’s order a chimichanga,” one laughed. “Yes, but wait, that’s not enough, she might not believe it,” Jennifer joined in, knowing her sister and now fully in the spirit of the evening.

So very soon, dear, sweet gullible Marcy received a brief text that directed: “Yes. J wants a chimichanga and order of cheesy potatoes. Thnx.” By now the hospital room was shaking with laughter and the nurse had joined in.

Horrified, Marcy studied the text. There she was in St. Paul, a strange land, and had no idea where a Taco Bell might be let alone how she could get there. What had she done? How could she fail her hurting little sister, in her time of need -- who up until now had no appetite?

When the phone eventually rang in the hospital, everyone there knew it would be poor, anxious Marcy, suffering with a problem that was of her own creation. As it rang, the room erupted again. Jennifer was in mortal danger of ripping her stitches.


This morning, Jennifer called her mother. It was early. Jennifer reported having a good night’s rest. We were so happy. But when Jennifer started telling her hilarious story, Kathleen could not contain herself. She was in tears again, only happy ones this time, literally hooting at the retelling of this tale of daughters pranking each other.

The days of pre-surgical tensions have been broken.  We have a long road ahead, but if laughter is the best medicine, we’re well on our way to recovery.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

That is such a sweet, quietly funny story. Still sending healing thoughts to Jennifer.