When my sister Kris was sick and going through chemo, I was amazed and impressed at how the families on her street rallied and brought them meals several nights a week for over a year.
Because of that, I signed up to be on my church's meal committee. When someone's got a condition where getting meals dropped off would help, the word goes out and we sign up through a website called Take Them A Meal. Easy peasy.
I admit it is awkward for me to deliver the food. I would much rather do a drop and dash than engage people in conversation, for some reason. I guess I feel like I'm not really coming over for a visit, I don't want to impose, I'm aware that they aren't feeling well and I don't want to force them to make small talk. It's been my experience that if they are home and up, the recipient invites me in and does make small talk. I guess if I felt too ill to chat, I wouldn't answer the door...
Anyway, I've been delivering a meal a week for a family for the last three weeks. The first two times, no one was home, but yesterday as I was putting the meal in the cooler on the front stoop, the mom/patient opened the door. I offered to bring the stuff in because it was heavy, and she thanked me. I had my prescription sunglasses on, which make me look like a biker chick, but that's another story, and she said, "I'm sorry, do I know you?" Yikes, strangers delivering food. I flipped my glasses up and said, "I'm Mr W's mom". Oh yes, I didn't recognize you.
When she answered the door, I noticed that she had cut her hair and dyed it shocking pink. I didn't ask, but I presume she'll lose it over the course of the chemo. I thought the pink was such a great idea. It lets her thumb her nose at the disease and the process, and acknowledges the hair falling out with a "bring it on" mentality. Her prognosis is good, and that's always good news. She's got a son Mr W's age.
On my drive back into town, I was grateful for the dose of perspective.