THE ORCHARD

A new Social Worker was shadowing me today to learn how to do a hospice admission.  The patient and family lived on a 50-acre ranch about four miles out of town.  The patient’s daughter gave us instructions on how to locate their ranch as GPS’s often direct drivers wrong. 

We found the County Roads 24 and 25 as they directed.  The ranch is on County Road 95.  We realized later that my GPS brought us to County Road 95A.  It instructed us to turn right by a gravel road.  We then turned right onto that road immediately into an orchard.  There was a dirt pathway that had impressions of vehicle wheels, so we followed the path. 

We drove about five minutes as it was a huge orchard.  At one point it looked like we could not go much further, but the road allowed us to turn right.  We were then parallel with a paved county road.    Fortunately, we were able to follow the route to an exit.  We then turned left onto the correct route of County Road 95.  There was another gravel road which our GPS then again told us to turn onto.  It was correct this time.  We drove this gravel and then dirt road a few minutes and did find their ranch.  My first thought was; while laughing; “If I ever think I have seen or done it all, I will likely be wrong every time.

THE ORCHARD 

 

We were scheduled to admit her today.

She is eighty-one and confused from dementia.

She and her family live out in the country

about four miles or so out of town.

 

They gave us step-by step instructions

on how to easily locate their ranch.

They didn’t want us to get lost

as a GPS does guide folks incorrectly at times.

 

“Drive halfway between

County Road 24 and 25.

Turn onto the gravel road by the orchard.

Our home is not visible from the road.”

 

We found the County Roads

while also finding a gravel pathway.

We turned into the orchard

driving onto soft, fertile soil.

 

The road was yielding with many potholes;

many dips and frequent downturns.

We realized, we were in an orchard

and not a route for automobiles.

 

I sometimes think I have heard it all.

I occasionally think I have seen it all,

but after driving into someone’s orchard,

I strongly know that I have not done it all.

                   And likely never will.