Cobb Salad

Either way, I’m pretty danged blessed.

My grandsons and their parental units have been on vacation in Phoenix for the past week and I have really missed them.  I have missed them so much that tonight at work I almost hugged one of my patient’s four year old grandsons.  I stopped myself just in the nick of time.  But he was looking up at me with those inquisitive four year old eyes and was asking me questions about my work and reached out and started fiddling with the hem of my uniform top while we talked and there was something about him that felt so familiar, like he was one of my grandsons.  It’s actually quite common for the four year olds to be interested in the things that they see me do at work.  I have gotten some really great questions from some of them; one little boy even noticed when an IV had stopped dripping and called it to my attention.

My patients often ask me if it is okay if their grandchildren visit and I always give them an enthusiastic ‘YES’!  It is amazing the effect that grandchildren can have on their grandparents.  One day one of my patients was in a great deal of pain after just having both knees replaced.  She was grinding her teeth and moaning, until two of her grandchildren walked into the room.  “Oh my goodness,” she beamed.  “Come here and let me see you!  How many kisses do you want?”  “Ten!” replied one of her smiling grandsons.  My patient then threw her arms around her grandson, hugged him tightly and gave him ten loud, smacking kisses on his cheek.  He laughed and told his grandmother about his day at school.  For a few minutes her pain was forgotten because it was replaced with the joy of seeing her grandchildren.

As I think about it, I remember how my grandmother would look at me.  Pure love and joy every time, even when she didn’t feel well.  I always felt safe and comfortable when I was around her.

All of this has absolutely nothing to do with Cobb Salad.  Not a thing.  I was just sharing a part of my life with you; a very good part.  But, as I look back at the beginning of this post, I realize that I had started out talking about my kitchen help, my sous chefs.  So, maybe all of the above really is about Cobb Salad because every time I cut tomatoes or olives, I think of my sweet Gavin.  He has been helping me cut tomatoes and olives for about a year now, since he was three.  He’s pretty good at it, too.  Cobb Salad has nicely diced tomatoes, no olives, though.  I guess that cutting up tomatoes will always remind me of him.  And eating those tomatoes will always remind of Kade and how much deep satisfaction he gets out of gobbling up tomatoes and watermelon and olives and bread and candy and macaroni with cheese and Teddy Grahams and…you get the picture.