Four Loves

Everyone who knew Wiley knew about the loves of his life: Me, Really good food, Good cigars, and Mediocre wine. He was least picky about the wine. When we first started dating, I didn’t drink much and had an untrained palette. He drank white Zinfandel. Later he switched to Merlot. Long before I met him he had given up hard liquor and always claimed that when he turned 70 he would start drinking scotch again. Upon reaching that lofty goal, he took one sip of scotch and spit it out…times do change things.

When we met he smoked cigarettes. That was almost a non-starter for me. But being so damn charming, he won me over. One year after our marriage he had a heart attack. A stent was placed in an artery and he was told to give up cigarettes. He did. That was wonderful! A smoke free environment. A year later we catered a large weekend party. It was very stressful but very successful. Once it was over he stopped at a local convenience store and bought a pack of cigarillos. Black and Mild. I was doomed. Overnight he was puffing on those big stogies. Don’t know how that happened. But it did, and his love affair with puffing and chewing those disgusting sticks began.

Wiley always loved food. Good food. Lots of good food. One of his ways of expressing love was to feed you. And feed me he did. Within a couple of years I gained twenty pounds. I told him to stop with all the good food…but he couldn’t. He would plan and shop days ahead of time. He would buy enough food for an army. It was in his DNA. As evidenced by our restaurant, he loved really good food.

So, after a week in the hospital, I suddenly realized that this man whom I adore….WAS NOT BEING FED. I asked what was in his IV, because I figured nutrition was being pumped in that way. Nope. Nothing. So who was overall looking after his care? Definitely not the hospitalist, nor the neurologist, nor the thoracic surgeon, nor any other of these professionals….. no one. No one. Just me…and I knew nothing. Pathetic.