Thursday, January 26, 2012

Still wondering about my saucy marriage...

An oldie but a goodie, so much I thought it deserved a second peek. 'Cause it's funny and I think I'm still in love with that nice piece of meat...

I'm quite enjoying the single life - being responsible for only my own well-being, coming and going freely save spending more time with Kao so he's not so lonely - so you can imagine my surprise when I considered entering into a union so delicious that I was aflush with excitement, drooling at the possibility of a rendez-vous with a piece of fresh meat.

It started this past Wednesday evening at a dinner held by an old co-worker. Her and her husband had invited me to break bread with them, perhaps taking pity on me cooking for one again. As I sat down to a barbecue dinner, I looked across the table and felt a pang, a flitter of my mending heart.

He was rich, full-bodied, red-blooded, and I couldn't wait to ravish him. I raised my glass and gave a slow wink and an even slower smile to show my interest. A flirt by nature, I had forgotten how fun it was to flutter my eyelashes and use my feminine wiles.

He was the perfect companion, the strong silent type but with an aroma that spoke volumes. He wore a suit of reddish-brown, with a spicy disposition that bordered on saucy.

Our initial rendez-vous was brief but I knew I had fallen in love and announced at the table our intention to marry. My fellow Cell Block C inmate was surprised but laughed, knowing I was serious but also realizing that the union would never hold up.

I tried to savour it, hold on and lovingly caress his flank. It had been a while since I had seen such a specimen, choosing others with a more refined, blander palette. It was sometimes easier that way - less temptation and a bit less guilt. But in this case I was done for. I had succumbed.

"I love this so much I think I want to marry it," I had announced as I slipped my knife in time and time again, stretching the culinary experience out for an hour or more. Sauteed mushrooms, summer salad with feta cheese and olive oil, corn on the cob, roasted potatoes... it was all good but nothing held my attention the way Mr. Sirloin did.

Now, three days later, I find myself yearning for him, calling him in the middle of the night as I remember how tender and loving he was - the way he fit perfectly on my fork and let me take from him time and time again with no questions, no requests and no strings.

Okay, so yes, I didn't have an encounter with a potential new partner - certainly not this soon after I'd managed to oust the Ex Man and take my house back - but it was intense nonetheless. And, it was a great break to the week, to visit with friends, talk over dinner and enjoy a piece of meat that I don't otherwise ingest. I'm sure we'll meet again, but I may have to wait. After all, I am in mourning for the last rendez-vous I had around the barbecue.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Too close for comfort

I owe you an update. I know. It's been a long three months full of hope, optimism and more than a few "tears caught in the throat" situations.

I'm not one to cry. Just ask any of my friends. If the tears well, I take a deep breath and say "Suck it up.  There are people who are worse off." And, there always are. There are weary cancer soldiers (and I include their families in that group). There are those with no support system. There are even those who do not know that some situations deserve laughter instead of worry. But, these past few months, I've cried. Not as openly as some friends and family would wish for me, but tears nonetheless. And, while I owe you an update, a "hey I'm still here" post, I owe you the truth as well.

Christmas has come and gone. It was harder than most because of the roller coaster of weeks prior. My dad - my fighter of monsters under the bed - was more victim than soldier. He was weak, pale and mortal. October and November brought a constant blur, of visits to the St. Catharines Hospital, of late night texts and a slew of ambulance rides - so many that my parents' neighbours were used to the swirling lights and the sirens. "Oh, there goes Joe" they said.

There he went time and time to the hospital, each time with worrying symptoms. Crohns, C. difficile, pneumonia, an irregular heartbeat, congestive heart failure and finally a mini-stroke. The doctors were baffled (or at least they never seemed to have an answer). It was daily and it was difficult. While I could focus on the day-to-day, the future was not yet determined. To see him shuffle from the gurney to the xray table and back to the bed was horrible. Rubbing his feet was the only solace and he put up with it. He also put up with the worried looks  my mum and I would exchange when his memory failed and his feet, legs and hands swelled from the lack of circulation. The strong and vibrant character was failing. His larger-than-life stature seemed stunted, changed, and closer to the end of his journey rather than a hiatus.

But, there is a light - a glimpse of the soldier he has always been. It's been over a month since his mini-stroke, and thanks to a revamping of his medications - additions of one and decrease of another (10 in all, if you can believe it) - he has had no other symptoms, no other ambulance rides, and he's now gathering his strength at the local gym by walking the track (and taking lots of naps).

Christmas was low-key - gathering at my brother and sister-in-law's house to relieve some of the Christmas dinner stress from Mum. There were lots of hugs and I love you's. And there was lots of laughter and tears. I never miss a chance now to tell someone I love them because you never know when it will be your last chance.