I Ran Into Someone in a Restaurant

I'm not strong enough to be a hospice worker

Tatsukin in the evening, a bit before closing time December 6th, 2024.

I went to Tatsukin¹ yesterday, a cozy restaurant with simple, reasonably-priced fare² about a fifteen minute walk from where I live. As I was enjoying my dinner, I heard someone down at the end of the counter say to the owner of the restaurant, “Anohito, shitteirukamoshirenai,” which in Japanese means, “I probably know that person.”

I turned around and looked at the person speaking. She lowered her mask and asked if I remembered her. I said, “Of course, I remember you, Suzuki san.” She was one of the hospice workers who took care of my friend Sunao in the last few weeks of his life. She moved down the counter to sit next to me.

She told me she had stopped working at the hospice.

Then she told me something I hadn’t known before. Most of the staff at the hospice have quit since my friend stayed there. She explained why.

Relatives have to experience the death of a loved one, but hospice staff are caring people who become deeply attached to almost all the people they are caring for. Every one of them dies.

“One day, we lost three,” she said, looking at me with tears in her eyes.

She told me she couldn’t handle the sadness of watching people arrive, knowing they would not leave alive.

I hadn’t thought of what it would be like working at a hospice. Her story reminded me of the lyrics from the Eagles hit song Hotel California.

And she said, "We are all just prisoners here of our own device.” ...

Last thing I remember I was running for the door.

I had to find the passage back to the place I was before

"Relax," said the night man, "We are programmed to receive.

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”

What made this conversation a bit eerie was that Suzuki san regularly came to Tatsukin for dinner. I often go to Tatsukin too. But in almost a year, we had not seen each other in the restaurant until we met a few days before the anniversary of my friend’s death.

After we had finished our dinners, she offered me a ride home since it was on her way. When she dropped me off, I thanked her again, finally realizing how much she had done for my friend and having a new respect for hospice workers who endure such wrenching pain to serve the dying.

1. I have an inReach Mini2 which allows me to send my position to satellites. This is where I was having dinner. You need to keep scrolling down to Earth until you leave the map view.

2. Two mugs of beer, an appetizer and very nicely cooked chicken cutlets for around $15 at today’s exchange rate.