Dr. Ed Iannuccilli: In This Confinement, What Do I Miss Most?

Dr. Ed Iannuccilli: In This Confinement, What Do I Miss Most?

When our Governor and The Rhode Island Medical Society put out a call for doctors to help during this health care crisis, I paused a moment, just for the blink of an eye. Might I be able to do this? Might I be able to return to the hospital, the site of many an emergency/critical care encounter of my past, and help?  In the next blink of an eye, I remembered my age; halt!  The fleeting moment was over.  Though at times I feel thirty-five, and I miss those days, no, I could never return.

That stirred me to think of what I miss during this time of confinement. I miss seeing my children and grandchildren  . . .  their beaming faces, the lunches and dinners, and the many games they play. Texts, phone calls, face time, and Zoom (yep, I’m in) are hardly a substitute for family.  A drive by blown kiss and a wave just doesn’t do it either.

I miss the coffees and lunches with friends; one of the highlights being the meetings with a group of twelve called The ROMEOs . . . Retired Old Men Eating Out. We start every Tuesday at eight with an elixir or two of coffee. Tuesday, not Monday, begins our week. Save for politics, we discuss anything and everything, with a heavy accent on information and learning.  The varied and fascinating backgrounds of my colleagues encourage a wide range of topics . . . so interesting and stimulating that it seems as if you have to get into the queue to speak, even to ask a question. But, after all, that’s what makes it so appealing. It’s vibrant, vital, comfortable and never boring.

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I miss a round of golf, the excitement of snapping the clubs out of the trunk, walking to the first tee to the tapping of irons, setting the terms of the match, teeing up the ball, taking a few practice swings and BAM! Off we go. A walk in the park. Birds cheering us on, clouds moving us along and the fuzzy, tired, slightly achy feeling at the finish.

I miss going to the movies, a night out to dine, concerts, the barber . . . oh yes, the barber.

I miss leafing through the pages at bookstores and libraries with their lingering aromas of familiarity.

I’ve learned spatial intelligence and sweeping detours, so I miss the friendly hug. I miss shaking hands. I know. Things change, of necessity these days. Wallace Stegner writes, “How simple and memorable a good day can be when expectation is low.” The days are good because, with lower expectations, I see daylight. I hear the start of the car’s engine, the clanging of restaurant dishes, the snap, snap of the clippers, the circumlocutions of a ROMEO, the tap of the conductor’s baton, the smell of movie popcorn.

Now, the gloomy gravity comes with what I miss most.  I miss having the choice to do these things.

Ed Iannuccilli is the author of "Growing up Italian" and "What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner?" and "My Story Continues" can be found here.