Regularity
Everyone has a routine. Everyone creates their own daily schedule, whether consciously or not. Get up at this hour, eat this for breakfast, leave the house at this hour, on Thursdays get a doughnut, Saturdays watch this program, etc. A routine helps cement our lives and anticipate what comes next. It gives us a sense of safety and control.
Sometimes, we feel stifled and want to break with our daily routine. So we go on vacation, or do things slightly differently, like go out to eat on Friday instead of Saturday. Even then, we create a new routine. It's extremely difficult to give in to total serendipity and do things on impulse for any period of time longer than one day. The first day of vacation can be serendipitous, but it sets the precedent for the second day, with a few variations inherent to the vacation itself.
Those are the pleasant changes in routine. Then there are the changes imposed by illness, hospitalization, and unemployment. It becomes demoralizing to have one's routine suddenly revolve around spending hours in a hospital when a family member is admitted. In the United States, there are visiting hours. One can only sit by a hospital bed at those hours. In Spain, we still have the atavistic memory of being obliged to take care of a family member admitted to a hospital. We no longer take the patient his meals from home, but we are not discouraged from spending the day and night with him, either. In fact, we are expected to do so, or be thought callous and uncaring.
When my father was in the hospital in Boston back in 1990, my mother and I went to work during the day, and then spent a couple of hours with him in the evening, before being kicked out to go home. My father is now in the hospital again, though feeling much better. They have to run some more tests, though he's over the pneumonia that put him in there. With a little help from a nurse at mealtimes, (pulling out the table and little else) he could eat without anyone hovering over him. Which is really the only reason my husband or I are there from breakfast at nine in the morning, until supper at eight in the evening. He doesn't physically need us during the rest of the day. He would have been fine with our visit for a couple of hours, and then there are plenty of people to chat with. But no, our culture demands we re-work our routine completely, and have one of us give up our days when we are not really needed by someone's bedside. (Actually, sofa-side, because my father refuses to be in bed since he no longer feels ill.)
And so, we are forced to change our daily routine, adapt to a different schedule and different rules. Uncertainty reigns; we no longer feel safe in our new routine, since we don't know when it is going to end, or how quickly we can return to our old daily grooves. I'm looking forward to the next change, though. I have it marked on the calendar, and hope our regular life will resume before then. One of my regular day-trips should be coming up during Holy Week next month. Serendipity should reign, even if only for one day.
Sometimes, we feel stifled and want to break with our daily routine. So we go on vacation, or do things slightly differently, like go out to eat on Friday instead of Saturday. Even then, we create a new routine. It's extremely difficult to give in to total serendipity and do things on impulse for any period of time longer than one day. The first day of vacation can be serendipitous, but it sets the precedent for the second day, with a few variations inherent to the vacation itself.
Those are the pleasant changes in routine. Then there are the changes imposed by illness, hospitalization, and unemployment. It becomes demoralizing to have one's routine suddenly revolve around spending hours in a hospital when a family member is admitted. In the United States, there are visiting hours. One can only sit by a hospital bed at those hours. In Spain, we still have the atavistic memory of being obliged to take care of a family member admitted to a hospital. We no longer take the patient his meals from home, but we are not discouraged from spending the day and night with him, either. In fact, we are expected to do so, or be thought callous and uncaring.
When my father was in the hospital in Boston back in 1990, my mother and I went to work during the day, and then spent a couple of hours with him in the evening, before being kicked out to go home. My father is now in the hospital again, though feeling much better. They have to run some more tests, though he's over the pneumonia that put him in there. With a little help from a nurse at mealtimes, (pulling out the table and little else) he could eat without anyone hovering over him. Which is really the only reason my husband or I are there from breakfast at nine in the morning, until supper at eight in the evening. He doesn't physically need us during the rest of the day. He would have been fine with our visit for a couple of hours, and then there are plenty of people to chat with. But no, our culture demands we re-work our routine completely, and have one of us give up our days when we are not really needed by someone's bedside. (Actually, sofa-side, because my father refuses to be in bed since he no longer feels ill.)
And so, we are forced to change our daily routine, adapt to a different schedule and different rules. Uncertainty reigns; we no longer feel safe in our new routine, since we don't know when it is going to end, or how quickly we can return to our old daily grooves. I'm looking forward to the next change, though. I have it marked on the calendar, and hope our regular life will resume before then. One of my regular day-trips should be coming up during Holy Week next month. Serendipity should reign, even if only for one day.
I wish your father well.
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