The Revised Bucket List, Part 1…

A few years back I wrote about my bucket list, as of earlier this week unfulfilled.

As you might know from my last post, my dearest friend spent the better part of this week with me. Before she arrived, we spent time discussing how she might be able to help see items on my bucket list come to fruition while she was here.

When I was first diagnosed, I would repeatedly tell my family how grateful I was that my appetite wasn’t affected by ECD – this girl loved her food! I had hoped to keep cooking meals, at the very least eat pretty much whatever I had a penchant for.

Little by little, this wish crept away. First it was the inability to drive, I could no longer fetch groceries. In the beginning, my ex would happily fetch whatever ingredients I needed and I kept cooking for my family. Like many family cooks, I prepared what my family wanted and rarely made anything that suited my tastes if it didn’t match theirs.

Then bone pain, fatigue and weakness became more of a hindrance. My ex had never cooked a meal during our marriage so prepared food was the only choice. For a short time, I had more of a selection in what I ate. With individual portions available in the prepared food section of the market I could ask him to get me items that I particularly enjoyed without worry about what didn’t appeal to him.

I had to make major adjustments last year when my ex moved out and I was left on my own. I couldn’t fetch my own groceries, nor could I have cooked for myself anyway. I found myself eating a lot of Babybel cheese that a friend would buy in bulk at Costco for me (calcium for my brittle bones!) The medications were really starting to take a toll on my insides. A combination of intense stress and stomach troubles had led to a weight loss of over twenty five pounds in a few short months. My clothes took over me, even size 00 jeans required a belt to stay up.

As grateful as my daughter and I were to have friends give us a roof over our heads for over three months last summer, I was in no shape to cook despite our friends’ offer to use the kitchen whenever I wished. We were made to feel part of the family and were invited to join in with all meals, but I  just couldn’t eat much despite how wonderful the food always was.

Expectations had to be radically adjusted when I moved into this apartment in September. Lack of appetite, loss of strength to make meals, and a shortfall in financial resources to allow the purchase of prepared food led to a general disinterest in eating at all. Revised expectations, I went from “living to eat” to “eating to live” as a philosophy.

From previous posts, you might already know that a wonderful group of volunteers stepped in a few months ago to deliver delicious hot meals several times a week. And friends often bring treats that they know I enjoy. One can only stand so many of the meal replacement drinks each day before finding them abhorrent, the gifts of food were/are welcomed and appreciated.

This group of friends and volunteers has urged me to let them know if I have any cravings, that they would do their best to fulfill any special requests. But you know how it is, when you crave something – the sooner the better! So I try to not let myself think of cravings, instead enjoy whatever has found its way into my fridge and cupboards.

One craving however has stuck with me for months. It shouted out to me as something I wanted to have just once more, a nod to my bucket list wish to eat foods I really enjoy. It wasn’t something that the volunteers could prepare – and until I sold some jewellery a few weeks back it wasn’t in the budget.

A part of that small windfall was going towards my bucket list, no question. Just a few hundred dollars, but it was going to be spent on something that put a smile on my face. And my friend was going to be my accomplice and partner in crime.

Wednesday night, with help from one of the Food Train volunteers taking care of the transport (each and every one of them has offered to help in some way beyond making meals), I had in front of me the object of my desire.

One damned fine Keg steak (for non-Canadian readers, The Keg is a restaurant chain that has built their reputation as a carnivore’s heaven), with a side of crab legs. Garlic mashed potatoes and melted butter on the side. Although I tried to apply some grace in how I ate that meal on the tray while propped up in bed, anyone watching might have believed that it was the first meal I’d had in days.

I wasn’t being a complete piggy, the small windfall also allowed my friend to enjoy her own steak dinner beside me (and after all her considerable generosity over the last year, it was such a small gesture in return). She however, went about things far more elegantly than I. And there was more than enough to enjoy leftovers the next night.

If that’s the last Keg steak I ever have, I’m okay with that. It was even better than I’d remembered, and I’d shared the experience with my dearest friend – and very importantly, my stomach didn’t rebel against it (a small miracle).

And for my Canadian readers, The Keg doesn’t do take-out. I have my friend’s perseverance to thank for getting that fantastic meal in front of me.

We weren’t yet done for the week…