About Me

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Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Oh barium me not on the lone prairie...

I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist. We have some answers on Beloved’s recent symptoms: all of them side effects of the chemo. The fatigue, the shortness of breath, and as we learned from his eye exam yesterday, cataracts which are forming and will need to be dealt with. The retina scan shows healthy tissue, huzzah!

The swelling in his right leg has yet to go down. He has a new outbreak of slits on the soles of his feet from last week’s chemo. He made an interesting assortment of noises in his sleep last night, none of them of the ooh, baby, baby variety.

And in half an hour we hop in Lorelai and I take him for this week’s chemo.

In happier news, we tried a new restaurant last night. I spotted it when I was running errands on Saturday. O’live; they feature Lebanese fusion, whatever that is. It was better than average food, and we spent about twice what I would have liked. The felafels were small discs about the size of a BabyBel cheese, and browned to the point of almost being burnt. But their innards were delicious. The dolmas were meh; I like a lot more rice in mine, and these were skinny little things, about the size of my forefinger. I like the ones from Central Market a lot better, and you get more bite for your buck. I tried something new: manakish, a small flatbread pizza that is basically thyme and olive oil on a pita, with sesame seeds. It was really interesting, in a more-good-than-bad way. Beloved had the lamb shish kebab. I ate a bite of his lamb. It was not as gross as the lamb-burger we ate when the children’s father was at BYU and we couldn’t afford hamburger at $1.00 a pound, so we bought ground lamb at $.50 a pound, and I was pregnant with Firstborn. Beloved thought that some of his lamb tasted suspiciously like beef. There was some gristle. I got some in my bite, and he got more in his.

The service was excellent. We were the only ones there. The decor is lovely, and the background music is restful, and we will go back, but next time we’ll go for appetizers. Or dessert. Or a meal with no appetizers. Meanwhile, I have two slices of manakish that will go to work with me as part of lunch.

In other health news, Beloved has an appointment next Wednesday at UT Southwestern with the doctor for that clinical trial. I looked the doctor up on my HMO. He’s not a part of it. So I will be making phone calls this morning, assuming my workload permits.

My sweater is perking right along. Pure joy. Six more rounds until I do the last decrease for the waist shaping, and then after a pause there will be corresponding increases so that I return to the original number of stitches.

Beloved is almost ready for me to slather aloe on the booboo’s on his feet, so I had better proof and go. My bags are packed, all except for my lunch, and I have no idea what I want to wear today.

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