The Patient

Julia has been sick for the last two days. yesterday she was her father's ward. She loved every minute of it. He stopped her at Burger King after a visit to the doctor. And they ate inside, something boring old mom would never do. She is weak, happy to rest and not at all herself. Today was my day home with her. I have been at her beck and call all day. I made her scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast. Afterward she wanted to rest. I said, "Let's set you up in the family room." She liked this idea.  At school she read a book at school about a sick child who laid in bed all day reading comics, eating crackers and popsicles. After a quick trip to the  grocery (because who has popsicles in February), I had everything we needed. She immediately began gathering things for her recovery room. Here is a list, in no paticular order: a bed pillow; a fleece blanket; crackers; a stack of books (including comics which her doting cousins dropped off for her); a small holy family relic she received as a favor at a baptism we were at on Sunday (she can be such an old lady Arab); a box of Valentine chocolates and a Snoopy doll in a doctor getup. She reminded me of the scene in The Jerk where Steve Martin is gathering up random items and claiming them to be among his most treasured possessions. I went down to the basement wiped down and grabbed a small stacking/folding table for all of her hoot. With popsicle in hand, she happily laid in her nest reading "comic books" and nibbling on crackers.

I mentioned this with a friend who recalled her own experience. She told me, "I love the sick bed supplies!! Those are some of my favorite childhood memories! With a fever/vomiting, we were made a bed in the couch in the living room. Poached egg on toast that had been softened with some of the water that cooked the egg. Small sips of Vernor's and my mother's close attention. I enjoyed it so much, I recall a time trying to keep the fever going by holding the thermometer to a lamp bulb!!"

It's funny how one memory can trigger another. It made me think of sleepovers at my great aunts Eleanor and Julia's house. Those nights and the mornings that followed were pure magic for my sister and I. We adored them. Poached eggs were always a breakfast staple. Love, love, love them. My aunts had this neat little poacher with six perfect little cups that make six perfectly poached eggs. They are without a doubt one of my favorite eggs. Modern cooking has long since abandoned the poacher and most cooks simply drop the egg into water. As simple as it appears to be I have always been slightly intimidated by this. Saturday morning's breakfast will include poached eggs.

Hopefully my patient will be back to her old self by then and ready to try.