notes from Hope Lodge . . .

Yesterday, I drove over to join the 9TS in Tampa. After dumping my stuff in the room and stashing the pre-makings of pasta fagioli in the fridge downstairs, I grabbed a soda and we headed to the porch to sit in the rocking chairs and catch up.

We had company. A 37 year old leukemia patient. After 14 years in the service his friends convinced him that his computer skills were wasted on the military and he should retire and make mega bucks for some communications company. He retired, sold his house and two things happened: the economy tanked and leukemia hit. He was down and out. Trapped between the VA and social security, he was amazed at the difference. While the VA was slow and rude, social security let him go to his own doctors and within days he was here at Moffitt.

Not really having found my comfort zone when talking about illness with the other guests, I let them ramble and then get back on safe ground. So since we were talking about rude, I mentioned Kanye West and we were off and running with a lively discussion. Finally he slows down, takes a good look at me, gulps and says, “Do you mind if I ask how a person of your . . . er . . . era . . . I mean vintage . . . a . . er . . . knows about Kanye West?” I laughed and told him we had a 21 year old. “Oh, he said, that explains it.”

Shortly after, he departed and once again I was forced to remember that I was indeed, 61 in body . . . 18 in mind. Sigh.

Oh and speaking of feeling 18, my sense of humor seems to be stuck there as well. Each of the 40 suites at Hope Lodge are named after the donor of the funds that created them. We are in the Hooker Suite. Don and Britta Hooker, thank you . . . for the safe haven and the chuckle.