Moy Moy has had a G-tube for years now. It allows her to eat without the worry of choking or aspirating and we are all so grateful for this sweet little piece of technology.
But as sweet as it is, it doesn’t last forever. Like any other machine – a battery, a fan belt, a light bulb – it wears out and needs to be replaced.
“Jo Ma’am!” she said this time. “24 French?”
That’s the size of the tube we need. How does she remember it? I don’t know, but she does.
“You know, Ma’am, you can order it in bulk. Why not get two or three at the same time? It would save you the trouble of calling so often.”
“Would it lower the cost?” I ask.
“No,” she admits. “I’m just thinking of your convenience.”
“But Rekha,” I point out. “Then I wouldn’t get to talk to you so often.”
Silence on the other end. Then she says: “How is Moy Moy?”
How is Moy Moy? She knows her name!
“Ma’am,” she says, a little hesitantly. “We think of you so often. We wish you didn’t have to call us. We pray that Moy Moy gets better soon and doesn’t need the tube any more.”
Moy Moy has enlarged my world in so many ways. Her limitations have allowed me to reach out to people like Rekha who – God alone knows why – respond to her needs with love and compassion, who remember her name and the size of her tube and who pray for her well-being and who want her to be whole and well.
24 French. 24-7. Life on this earth. Whole and well.