The Bucket List or Grumpy Old Men?

I haven't seen "The Bucket List," the Jack Nicholson, Morgan Freeman movie about two terminally ill cancer patients pursuing their must-do lists before they "kick the bucket."

But I feel like I was living the movie while I was at the VA Hospital in SF.

Bob, an elegant African-American man, was a natural in Morgan Freeman's role. Like Freeman's character, Bob would often dispense nuggets of wisdom in his trademark honey-coated voice.

And, just like in the movie, the rooms at the VA are "semi-private." Now there's the ultimate oxymoron, like jumbo shrimp or military intelligence. When two people share a hospital room, privacy doesn't exist.

Bob's roommate was an over-the-top Jack Nicholson character, at best a curmudgeon, at worst abusive. When doctors came in to perform a procedure several times a day, we could hear every curse and scream that spewed out of his mouth. And we heard him turn nasty with staff when his needs weren't met immediately.

Of couse, he could hear everything happening on our side of the curtain as well. When Bob and I met with his doctor, the roomie couldn't help blurting out his opinions. "You don't have to leave if you're not ready. They can't make you." When I asked the doctor if Bob would have a private room at the convalescent home, she admitted that she didn't think so, but didn't know for sure. He shouted out, "That means NO. Don't accept that as an answer."

Unlike the movie, the relationship between the two men didn't develop beyond repressed giggles and eye rolling on our side of the curtain. When we left, Bob and I wished the roomie well. I couldn't resist adding, "Don't let anyone get away with anything." I don't think I have anything to worry about.