Item 5. MEALS ON WHEELS REVISED

There’s a custom in our domain of workmates and friends. It involves having people make meals and deliver them to a sick or injured member of the group. Thus, when someone learns that a member of the network is in need, they offer to either cook or purchase food and then deliver some meals to help not only the victim but the spouse/caregiver too. Marilyn has organized this process through an on-line tool that allows others to sign up, telling if they wish to bring dinner over on a given day. This computerized approach helps prevent doubling up of deliveries. (Though, interestingly, we have a neighbor who knows nothing about the electronic list, so she just shows up on any random night and knocks on the door with a pot of soup or a dish of just-made lasagna. We graciously thank her and then put it in the freezer for another night. It’s just as needed.) Some people bring the food, chat a little, and then leave. Others sit down and join us for the dinner. Either way is fine. We have already enjoyed such dinners from people we know, and more are planned in the coming months. In our situation, chemo is given about the first 3 days of every 28-day period. It’s during that critical first week that we are under the most pressure—full days spent sitting in a hospital and waiting, walking to the next venue, driving from work to clinic and back. When the day’s over you’re tired and in no shape to cook. That’s when these services really pay off. I don’t know why, but I often have a funny feeling in receiving this service. I’m used to eating food that we cook, is cooked by a restaurant, or by someone we know who regularly has parties and dinners. But this is different. First, it’s from someone who seldom cooks for me. Secondly I’m receiving this not in the usual atmosphere of celebration, but rather from an atmosphere of sympathy. I appreciate the food and the time it saved me, but for some reason the food is hard to enjoy. What’s that all about? I’m open to any comments on this.