Merci, buckets

Today's monumental gastronomic overindulgence actually began with a hamburger last Saturday and escalated into increasingly rich foods, culminating in the food coma I'm about to fall into.  I just can't eat meat like I used to, and just when I get close to the vegetarian end of things, I backslide into something that sounds great at first but then proves to be disgusting afterwards (burritos, BBQ, corned beef, dry fried ribs, buffalo wings, etc.)  Yukk.  At this moment, the champagne is bubbling its way back up my esophagus.  TMI!!

I am incredibly thankful for this, the 3rd Thanksgiving holiday since my diagnosis.  (Incidentally, November is Lung Cancer Awareness Month, even though I've heard not one speck of publicity pushing for awareness of any kind.  But I digress.)  I couldn't be with my aging parents or my brother this holiday, which makes me sad.  I miss my mom's cooking tremendously.  I'm serious when I say she makes the best turkey/stuffing/gravy I've ever had.  Yes, even better than the dinner with the Hungarians (the stuffing was foie gras).  Obviously that's not the only reason I hate not spending the holidays with them—we're both racing against time.
I'm grateful for my quality of life, made possible by the love and provision of a tremendous husband.  He's got an impossibly difficult job…and there are many possible endings this sentence could take.  I try to take care of him in return, and hope I do a reasonably good job.
I'm surprised and amazed at my friends, who are basically my extended family, as well as my extended family.  I don't know how I could be so lucky to receive the love, support, generosity, kindness, constantness and the hundred other blessings showered upon me by those who have seen me through this journey.  The gift of their time and thoughtfulness touches my heart so deeply that I recoil from showing emotion.  I apologize for my stoicism and casual expressions of greetings and gratitude, for not returning calls or emails right away, for not corresponding regularly.  I just fall into various vortexes of activity…I have no idea how I did everything when I was working.  (I probably didn't…)  It would behoove me to stop and really think of meaningful ways to say thank you.  I will work on this.
This is starting to sound like an awards show speech.  I'll just add that I'm thankful I had decent insurance when all this happened, and that my oncologist, while not prominent or even aggressive or on the cutting edge, seems to be ok.  I'm still here, so he must be doing something right, or I'm just ornery as an old turkey.
In my secret heart of hearts, I hold all of you and think of you each night with a wish and a prayer for your health, happiness, safety, and an ongoing life of beauty.

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8 thoughts on “Merci, buckets

  1. You survived! Hurray! Seriously, I think maid service is called for the day after. I got right up and cleaned my destroyed kitchen without blinking an eye. And I didn't even host. Bummer is, one more meal and I'm out of leftovers :(.

  2. We had dinner at Kara's grandma's house. I made stuffed acorn squash. Then we both had to go to work. I hope your dinner was yummy.
    Nichole
    PS: I am exactly 6 thousand words away from finishing my National Novel Writing Month novel. I hope to finish it tomorrow. It's crap, but at least I wrote a novel, (sigh) someday I'll write something good and get published.

  3. Mmm, I love squash. I don't eat it enough. Sorry you had to work. I hope you get some sleeping-in-snuggling-and-drinking-hot-toddies-watching-movies time in somewhere.

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