Wednesday, January 16, 2013

i fear i have lost my taste for wine and coffee...two staples of life

But thank God I still have a taste for lefse. I think I'll write this up for JAMA: Woman makes it through cancer treatments by living on lefse, cheeseburgers, and chili!

I woke up with the blues yesterday. I did everything I knew to make it better...tea, soft music, yoga (well, I meant to do yoga), a warm bath, conversation with Deb on the phone, lunch with Jill, turkey soup, To no avail. I had to come home quickly after lunch (Jill saw that I was fading fast) and crawl into bed. I was sooo tired.

I woke up feeling groggy and funny. We went downtown to pay a bill but I wasn't recovering. I came home and took some Tylenol and got into my pajamas. We watched a movie called The Giant Mechanical Man, which I loved. Finally, I started to feel better.

I'm only telling this long tale of woe to illustrate how my mind runs during an episode like this. I have turned into a hypochondriac and not only that but a hypochondriac of the future. These were my thoughts over the course of the afternoon:

  • I can't drink wine anymore. Wine caused me to feel like this.
  • Or maybe it was the coffee in the morning that made me sick.
  • I have the flu.
  • I will have to go to the ER and will be admitted to the hospital. All this in the absence of a temperature.
  • I won't be able to go to my class tomorrow.
  • I looked at my calendar and determined that I won't be able to go anywhere for the next two months.
  • I'll have to miss the next two birthday parties in February.
  • I only want to eat lefse, shortbread cookies, and cheeseburgers.
  • I am a whack-a-doo.
By 7 o'clock I was feeling better. Who knows what this was about except for extreme weirdness.

I had the most wonderful surprise about 5 o'clock. The Spee-Dee delivery van pulled into the driveway. I asked Regis to go to the door since I was not wearing my head covering and I was in pajamas. No need to frighten the guy. He opened the door as the dude was sprinting down the sidewalk hollering, "I've got lefse for Teresa!" A lefse angel!



This lefse is by far the best next to homemade. My cousin Deb has sent two shipments of homemade lefse that have been wonderful and so I suspected her of this surprise but she claims no knowledge. I had a piece last night before bed. Nothing like making sweet dreams with good lefse.

My mom also claims she was not the perpetrator of the lefse drop. Whoever did it...thank you! It was a wonderful surprise.

Jill and I had a nice lunch...I had a cheeseburger and chili, of course. We talked and talked until I started to list to the left and she took me home. A guy can never see enough of good friends.

I slept well last night and today already feels like a winner. I'll work on that.

4 comments:

Caroline said...

Wine tasted like battery acid to me during chemo. I also completely lost my taste for shrimp and still do not like them. During treatment I could not be in the same room as scallions.

I lived on the BRAT diet for the bulk of chemo. As long as you are eating, don't worry about it.

Teresa Saum said...

Caroline, at first I thought you meant brat like the Wisconsin wieners. Then I realized you meant brat like bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast. Right? That would be a tough one.

grandma Saum said...

Maybe it is the weather; grey and gloomy. I feel better today after I had a friend come share some wonderful stew and a salad. But I think I will go back to bed for a short time. I envy you your lefse angel.

Jill said...

Yup, you made it through the burger and chili and suddenly it was over! I'm glad you are into a better day today. What a hoot--getting a delivery from Rushford's lefse company! Who knew lefse had such curative powers??! Remember the lefse recipe Sandy Cordie got from a Norwegian lady from ND who was selling lefse at St. John's years ago? Sandy only had tiny post-it's for her to write on. Part of the recipe said to make the lefse in the morning "when the current is strong". So sweet. I still love my lefse with cream cheese spread on it rather than butter and sugar. True Norwegians cringe at the thought!