You: “Those look like noodles up there.”
Me: “You’d be right.”
You: “Isn’t this a genealogy blog?”
Me: “Right again.”
You: “Why, then, are we looking at noodles?!”
Me: “I’ve been absent from the blogosphere for several months.”
Me: “We’ve had a cancer diagnosis.”
Sometimes life knocks us flat and we don’t know quite how to get up. There is nothing to grab onto for support. You are lying there alone; no one seems close enough to lend a hand. It feels as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Every corner of your body aches, and then it aches some more. It hurts to lie down, it hurts to sit up. The headache is pounding, the stomach threatens to purge, the fever burns.
I wish. I wish with all my heart this was nothing more than the flu.
But, it isn’t.
One thing is certain: we only get one body. One. We must treat it with respect if we want it to last. That means paying attention to what we read on health sites and hear in the news. That means listening to our bodies when they tell us something may be off.
When I saw the meme below it gave me pause. It makes so much sense! The old saying “We are what we eat” could not be more true. If we are honest, how many of us truly think of this each time we eat?
Strictly from a dental point of view, if we eat lots of sugar (and don’t rinse after, and don’t brush twice a day, and don’t floss, and don’t strengthen our enamel as recommended), we will have dental disease. It seems that, while each body is different, if we follow healthy guidelines, our bodies will respond and be healthier. I feel better when I eat better. It makes so much sense.
Sadly, even when following the guidelines for a healthy body, the big C can strike. Anyone. Any time. Any place. And, it did.
It hit my husband.
And, I can’t go there yet. I can only tell you what I’ve told you. I am getting closer, though. At least now I want to be here. It took months before I could open my WordPress account.
My gut health has not been good for the past two years. Stress from the C kicked my condition into high gear. I’m now on the FODMAP diet AND a low acid/low fat diet to treat this until more tests come back. That doesn’t leave much more than lettuce and water. Or so it seems….
In the meantime, flour is a flyin’ in the kitchen. I can either sit back and wallow–oh, is that ever tempting!–or I can get busy. I’m having a ball making gluten free foods. Today, I tried my hand at gluten free noodles.
I used the KitchenAid food grinder attachment I’ve had for years. There are several disks used for various types of pasta. This (above) is how the first batch looked.
When it slowed down I figured it was stuck. Yep; I had to dig out the bulk of the dough.
It also made me realize that sometimes what you know, what you’d learned from someone in the past, may be the very best choice. I remembered my mother-in-law. She taught me in my early married years how to make noodles.
I dug out the dough, added a bit more water and mixed it again. I rolled it into a large, flat circle. Then I rolled it up tightly. I cut it thinly, into pinwheels. When unrolled, the noodles were cut to dry.
These mother-in-law inspired noodles are by far the heartiest, healthiest, best looking noodles in the bunch. Thank you, Dorothy.
Which brings me to my daily goal: I will fight this disease, not feed it.
Now, anyone have a dairy free Alfredo sauce recipe?
I’ve learned a few things since C came to visit.
–I’ve learned that I am stronger than I thought I was. I’ve made it through each and every day. Each. Glorious. Day. Nights are harder. But, I’m still here.
–My children are adults and have been right by our sides through it all. While I don’t really want to, I can lean on them, a bit.
–Staying busy is the absolute BEST thing I can do. One day this week I made yogurt. I cleaned the bathroom and vacuumed the main floor. I did some laundry. I walked for 30 minutes. I put chicken in the crock pot. I made home made tortillas (gluten free!) and we ate chicken tacos for dinner. I slept better that night.
–I’ve also learned I cannot do this alone. I must reach out. I contacted a friend I’d not talked with in a while. I joined a support group for cancer survivors (YES, SURVIVORS). I joined a Facebook group and then left the group. I’m entitled to be picky and picky I am. The support group for survivors is far better.
–I’ve learned I am not afraid to take on the surgeon, who lacks both tact and a personality, or his staff. If we ask a question and receive a less-than-informative (or even a snarky) answer, Mama Bear roars and demands better.
–I’ve realized that above all else, that no matter what happens, I will be OK. I know that for sure. I don’t know how I know it. I just know it.