The day began with a reminder call that my portable oxygen tanks would be delivered between ten and twelve o’clock. “O.K.” is my standard answer. I have learned that the delivery may happen at any time. Sometimes the delivery time may be a different day. These tanks are not an emergency. They will be available for times when I leave the house. I have a large concentrator that is to be used around the clock at home. I also have a large portable tank that will be available in case of a power outage.
I have needed these tanks for the past 1 1/2 years. I smile as I remember the beginning of all this. I cleaned the house to the best of my ability. I wore clothes that would have been reserved for dress up. Now days, the oxygen delivery finds me and the house “as is”. What was once a big deal is now a casual occurrence.
The need for this delivery has not yet become a casual occurrence. A huge part of me wants to say that this delivery person must have the wrong house. This part of me finds it hard to believe that I am considered this ill.
For many years, when I worked for a family service agency, a large part of my job was to serve people via home visits. I was the one who rang people’s bell and entered their homes. I was the healthy one who climbed over drifting snow to get to the door. They put the Christmas tree out for me. Sometimes I would be the only visitor that season.
I still feel like that provider of services. As I open the door and accept the oxygen, I tell the provider how I am doing. The other part of me is also present. That part says that the person must have the wrong house. They better leave now because I have to go to work.