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| May 6th, 2005 | The way to a woman’s heart | ||
Men are fixers. When there is a problem, they try to use their tools to mend or resolve it. Michael’s tools of choice are pots and pans and cooking utensils (he used to work as a chef and ran a couple of Italian restaurants). The problem is that my cancer is something that is way beyond his ability to fix. So, his way of ‘fixing’ me is to feed me. And feed me. The past couple of days, he’s been waking me up every couple of hours proudly displaying plates of food. Everything from homemade soups and stews, to my favorite Italian dishes, you name it. He’s been cooking up a storm. I eat, even though I’m not hungry, but I figure that it’s good to have something in my stomach to throw-up. Plus, it makes he and my mother so happy to see me have an appetite. I’ll admit, I’ve always had an appetite. I’m not a picky eater at all, especially when it comes to Michael’s cooking. In fact, I think that’s what initially attracted him to me (Michael: “Have you seen that girl eat? She sure is hot!”. –ok this never actually happened, but he could never date, much less marry, a girl who lived on salads.) So, like an animal at the zoo, Michael has me on a regular feeding schedule. At this rate, I’ll gain that 30 pounds that Dr. N talked about by next month.
Posted in Karen's Fight |
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