Making Lemonade….

Slumped in her exam chair, her eyes partially blocked by droopy brows and her face furrowed with wrinkles too many to count, Vivian locked her familiar gaze on mine.  This was her twentieth exam with me and she was closing in on her ninetieth birthday.  The weight of her chart was impressive; thick from decades of documentation for her growing list of medical problems, it told her story. 

She had been a dancer in her youth.  Eventually marrying and raising her children, she had lived to enjoy her grandchildren and even great grandchildren.  Recently she had buried her beloved husband.  Life had been fast and furious and full of miracles then, but now Vivian, her bones weak and her eyesight failing, did everything slowly.  With much effort she raised a crooked hand toward me and slowly wagging her aging index finger, she lifted her head a bit and gave me some advice.

“Do it while you’re young.” she warned with a rasp in her voice but a twinkle in her eyes.

This wasn’t the first time I had been given advice from my old folks. 

“Don’t work too hard,” one sage advised me. 

“Are you taking some time off?” other elders had quizzed.

“Getting old is not for sissies,” many, many had warned. 

This wise choir’s sad chorus was common - and relentless- so after years of hearing their refrain, I had listened. You hear that enough times, you just about have to. Heeding their stories of health failing, kids grown, family moved away, friends no longer living, and not feeling well enough to do much of anything, I felt a panic set in. 

“What are you doing in your spare time?” I began to ask my generation of patients searchingly.

“What spare time?” was their glum and almost universal response.

Blocking off time to make some memories became my mantra. Getting home early when I could, stretching a weekend into three days here or there, and planning some great experiences became a priority and helped our family create balance.

So today, I was ready for Vivian’s challenge.

On this perfect summer day, I had arranged for our two kids, ages 9 and 6, to set up a lemonade stand outside the door to my office.  Like two squirrels in a field of acorns, their excitement was palpable as we spent the evening before making gallons of the sweet thirst quencher that everyone loves as well as signs directing customers to a table full of cups and napkins.  We worked out with them how 50 cents a cup would be a fair and profitable charge. My wife and I filled a cooler with ice for them and instructed them in how to serve their customers without contaminating their drinks.  And we delivered the entire family project to my office entrance that morning for them to set up.

My office is busy.  Lots of patients and their families pass through those doors on any given day, so I knew business would be good for them.  But I felt guilty at the thought of my patients feeling trapped into buying something from my children.  So I secretly planted a large bowl of quarters at the checkout window with instructions to my staff to offer each of our patients the quarters as tokens to purchase lemonade as they left.

Thankful for the advice of Vivian and her comrades, and for their wisdom and courage inspiring me to play a bit harder, to hug a little longer, and to create as many magic moments as we can while we can, I directed her down the hallway.

“Vivian, when you leave today grab a couple of quarters at the checkout and 

buy some lemonade from my kids”,  I offered.  “My treat.”

With a quick and knowing grin, Vivian nodded her approval and disappeared unhurriedly down the hallway.

At the end of the day, I had two unsuspecting kids, as happy as tourists finding a deserted beach, gleefully splitting $37.50 for their day’s work.  And another memory to keep me warm when I get old.