My news of the day

 

Friends, I have something to share. If you look inside my fridge tonight, you will not find the usual leftovers from a family dinner nor the half-full bottle of chardonnay. Instead you will find yogurt, applesauce, chocolate protein drinks, and some non-alcoholic wine. A lifetime of drinking wine has come home to roost, and I am facing a fight against a small throat cancer. Not to worry: we caught it early, and the cure rate is high. The next couple of months will be difficult—a soft diet, lots of specialists to see, six weeks of radiation, but after that I am confident of taking up my life again. At this point, beyond a definitive biopsy, I will not need chemo or surgery. I will always be at my computer, and I plan soon to be back in the kitchen.

In fact, I’ve been making a list of foods that go down easily. My list can get pretty imaginative—smoked salmon with cream cheese, chopped liver from Carshon’s Deli, polenta, tuna salad, egg salad, a loaded baked potato without the bacon. Tonight Jean brought pasta with a marinara sauce—she very considerately asked what I thought about meat and mushrooms, and I opted for the marinara—it was rich and tomato-y and absolutely delicious. She had simmered it for over two hours until it was thick and wonderful. Another friend has offered to host me the next time her retirement community has a creamy soup entrée. I have lost a few pounds because I was not swallowing solids, but now I see my way forward to some quite good meals. And I’m hungry.

I can not ever again have an alcoholic drink. Oh, wait! The doctor said maybe on my birthday. But my days of enjoying a couple of glasses of chardonnay in the evening are over. This has been controversial, with several friends saying they never heard of alcohol causing such tumors. But the new doctor, an ENT specialist that I like and respect, was quite firm, and I will follow his orders. Statistics on survival really support his position, and I want to be around yet for years to come. Yes, I know hundreds of people who drink more heavily than I ever did and never develop tumors. Good for them—but it happened to me.

Benji is a great comfort. I think he senses something is wrong, because last night he was all over me—in my lap (for which he is too long and leggy), head resting on my leg, lying on the floor watching me. When I went to bed, he ostentatiously lay on the floor next to the bed. Tonight he has not been quite so attentive—he got into his fascination with the motion-activated garbage can and then he paced the cottage. He is confined to quarters because he barked so much, but he is quietly lying in his crate on the other side of my desk. I find his presence a comfort.

Jordan and Christian have been tremendous support, and doctors’ visits have become family affairs. Jordan makes lists of doctors I have to see and things that must be done, and she supervises what I eat—why won’t that child let me have chopped barbecue? Christian has run so many many errands—returning this that I ordered, picking up prescriptions, scouting out a new pharmacy since ours is closing. This weekend my other three children will be here for an event marking Jacob’s high school graduation—but also to rally around their mom. I couldn’t be more blessed and more grateful.

So, my friends, if I’m here again and gone again, more irregular than usual in posting blogs, I ask you to bear with me. Minor and temporary lifestyle adjustments coming up, but all will be well. Prayers are of course appreciated.

PS Please note that I still have a new Irene in Chicago Culinary Mystery, Irene in a Ghost Kitchen, coming out in late June. It's not on Amazon yet but will be soon. Watch for it--it's got family secrets, French food (and lots of recipes), one bad dude, and enough mayhem to make you turn the pages (I hope). Given the direction my writing has taken of late, it's fitting that I frame my current situation in the context of foods I can eat, don't you think?