my adopted grandfather / poem 103

I took Mr G. for same day surgery this afternoon, a cystoscopy — again. He was going to have ‘burned out’ more of the tumor in his bladder if it had grown back. Sadly, it had. His doctor said it was an aggressive kind of cancer. Mr. G. was taken to a hospital to spend a night since he lives alone and was not permitted to return home alone after anesthesia. I will bring him home from the hospital tomorrow.

I only know this man from delivering meals to him for two years. Since I’ve known him, his wife has died. I’ve met his Pennsylvania son and his wife. We’ve talked music, politics (we disagree), and health. He is 87 and in good health otherwise. He is kind. He is also a good conversationalist and listener, a rare blend. I can learn a lot from him. I seem to have adopted him as a grandfather.

elder

You had told the nurse I was your social worker.
Yes, I am but it wouldn’t fly in court. The nurse laughed.
I proclaimed I am your neighbor and friend.

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