Nodding my head I stand in his Living Room wearing only black running shorts holding a Styrofoam cup.
Sarah is standing behind me holding the leashes of Goddess and Winton, The Little Gay Dog.
We'd strolled over to check on our friend and it hasn't been a good day.
Sitting at the kitchen table is another neighbor who's a Nurse as his frantic wife says, "I just can't handle this anymore," before rushing back to the bedroom to check on him.
"He needs pain management and she's completely overwhelmed," she whispers again.
I understand, have nothing to add so I continue nodding.
A fourth neighbor appears at the door carrying plastic bags full of Tupperware containers of hot food.
Rushing from the back his wife grabs a paper listing the Medications crying that nothing is working.
Calmly the Nurse suggests what she should give him and how often.
It's all of the heavy duty prescriptions Doctors lob at illnesses like soldiers on sterile battlefields lobbing grenades at unseen enemies.
He's scheduled to returned to the sterile battlefield of the Hospital tomorrow and his wife frets she'll be unable to get him in the car.
The Nurse answers her husband and yet another neighbor have already committed to be there when it's time to go.
"What happens if something goes wrong in the middle of the night?" she exclaims, shaking, afraid, a bodily collection of emotions.
"Call us," Sarah and I say at the same time. "We're right here."
Nodding, for the forth time in three days, his wife checks to see if she has our number.
The Nurse, Sarah and I take our leave so the neighbor can deliver the food to his wife.
As Goddess and Winston, TLGD, drag us back home, I'm feel as through we're leaving Church.
Stained glass, Steeples, majestic music, powerful sermons, handclapping praise and wonderful prayers don't come close to the tenderness of the real service we'd just left.
