"White Trash Hotdish" BIG Hit!! On to the Next Fatty Dish!

First and foremost, a few words from our sponsor:

Bob would like everyone to know that he, personally, was going to contribute yet another post, but wasn't able, due to a couple obstacles. First was his leg, as it decided to interfere as he was getting ready to spew forth all kinds of wit and wisdom from his keyboard. As such, he couldn't stand at his computer very long to compose said contributions. We're hoping this issue will soon be rectified with the arrival of his new HP NetBook, a mini-version of a laptop, which should make it easy for him to to e-mail and surf the web whenever, wherever, however he is—on his back, on his stomach, on the toilet . . . The Crackberry works in a pinch but is not easy to write anything of any substance. He was also having issues with his computer (Should have gotten a Mac, sez Jen). . . again we hope this will be a non-issue once that cute li'l mini 'puter arrives, which should be Wednesday. Actually . . . now that I think about it, we're hoping all these issue will be rectified by rockin' this cancer right out of Bob's body!!! Until then, the NetBook will have to do.

Bob's chomping at the bit, just itching to share some of the insights and observations he's gleaned over the past several weeks of this ordeal. It's absolutely mind-boggling what one can pick up in a couple months' solitary confinement in one's own home, and then to not be able to share them as they come—that's just sheer and utter torture! He thought it would be fun toat least tease you all with the titles of some blog ideas that are swimming 'round his head. Here goes: Feminine Wipes: Not Just for Women Anymore! Or, how 'bout: Vicodin vs. Percocet—Which has the Higher Street Value? Or, this gem: Why the Hell Would Someone Rob a Pharmacy for Oxycontin When There's TEQUILLA?!? Works Better, is Cheaper and Doesn't Taste Like PVC! And right now, his personal favorite: When I Find the Person Who Said: "Pain is Your Friend Because it Lets You Know You're Not Dead Yet," I Will Kill Him. Several Times Over.

He also wants people to know that he is not in constant, unrelenting pain. He does get a reprieve from it, usually when he's lying down, or when the timing of the meds is "just right" (which is a never-ending game of many variables: the timing, which meds are taken when, if he's been on his feet at all, what time of day it is . . . so many things that change the scenario hour by hour . . .) Mornings are his favorite time of day (mine, too). He gets really good sleep and relief from the pain then. Don't know if it's because after a long, exhausting, fitful night of sleep that he simply succumbs to exhaustion, or if the pain actually kind of goes dormant at that time (it is curious to note that the pain seems to worsen at night, as he's getting ready for bed. . . ). The difficulty of it all is when he's on his feet for even a short period of time, and sitting is not an option at all.

So, Bob got a call from the U of M this morning, and we go from "Waiting Game" to "Let's Roll!" basically overnight. They've set him up, bright and early tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. (seriously, doctors start this early?!), to meet with the third oncologist of the journey. This one, also a soft tumor (sarcoma) specialist, is the expert in chemotherapy, which is what Bob's treatment will begin with. Chemo first, then surgery, sometime down the road. This is the guy who will be getting the drill, the third degree. Bob has a list of questions that we're hoping and praying this guy'll finally be able to answer. Certainly hope these specialists are given more than the average 18 minute office visit, 'cause they got lotsa 'splainin' to do . . .

He'll then have another scan done, called a MUGA (Multi Gated Acquisition Scan), which provides a movie-like image of the heart and allows doctors to gauge the health of the heart's major pumping chambers. It's most often done on cardiac patients, as it's more accurate than an echocardiogram, but is also done on patients receiving cardiotoxic drugs such as in chemo (thanks, Wikipedia). Guess they need to make sure his heart is good and strong for all this. He also might have a chemo port inserted, not totally sure about that. The person he talked to today mentioned it, but don't know if that's a definite. Right now, we have no road map to follow, but hope tomorrow's day at the U gives us more answers and gives us a clearer picture of treatment, prognosis, and anything else we can pump them for. I've been practicing my Crazy Wife act in the mirror ("Get a #(%@U% STRETCHER OUT HERE, NOW, DAMMIT!!!"), and have taken the day off work to be with Bob. Heavy-duty stuff heading our way.

So, on a kind of unrelated note, I got the "grocery list" from Bob yesterday, as it's our idea to load up on some goodies that he's craving, foods that have lots of calories, that hopefully will help line his body with at least a little bit of fat, to make stronger, have more "fight" in him. Wow. What a journey to the "other side" that was . . .

See, I'm kind of the li'l "health nut" in the house. I'm not a complete and utter whack-job about it, but I do buy the whole wheat, omega-3 pastas, I have loaded the freezer with veggies from our CSA to get us through the winter; I buy Stonyfield Farms organic yogurt and organic peanut butter and eggs. Lots of fruits and veggies—I usually get more than the recommended servings of produce. Nuts, beans, various rices . . . I make spinach smoothies with flax seed . . . I try to buy as much real food—stuff that isn't process—as I can, stuff that is damn near picked fresh out of the garden, plucked out of the free-range hen house, milked from the grass-fed cows wandering the fields of Washington county that very morning! Okay, not quite that fresh and natural, but I try. I do believe we are what we eat. Disregarding the months of November and December (and during the monthly PMS flare-up where no chocolate within the tri-state area is safe), I eat quite healthfully.

So there I was, on Sunday afternoon, wandering down territories in Cub Food in which I've never before been. I stood in the frozen foods aisle, staring at the rows of TV dinners (Bob's request). I briefly thought about Amy's Kitchen organic dinners, but came to my senses. I cannot see Bob happily digging into anything called, "Veggie Loaf Meal" or "Veggie Steak and Gravy." I moved on to the Banquet dinners. So many dinners, so little time. I texted him, "Which one? Chicken Fried Chicken Patty dinner or BBQ Boneless Pork Rib (in small letters below: shaped patty meal)?" He responded, "Both." Then I found myself in front of the ice cream section. 1/2 gallons of ice cream on sale for one dollar each! Once again, I fired off a text (okay, didn't exactly "fire" it off, more like chicken-pecked it off): "Your lucky day! 1/2 gallon ice cream for a buck! Wonder what's wrong with 'em . . ." His response: "My luck is a changin' . . ." I grabbed a chocolate chip and a maple nut. I wander past complete family meals, desserts, side dishes and realize there must be some people who truly eat this shit on a regular basis. Hell, I see them every time I go grocery shopping and stare in horror and distain at all the packaged and processed foods loaded up in cart after cart. Now, I've become one of them.

As I wandered the aisles, I kept an eye out for quick, convenient foods that Bob could make or just eat and go, to eat between meals, to supplement. I grabbed parmesan garlic kettle chips, a bag of cheddar jalapeno Cheetos, tapioca pudding (instant and stove top variety), cheese, beef jerky, a hefty combo pack of Reeses p.b. cups and Kit Kats. Canister of cashews. Two Jack's pizzas. Bag of Jolly Ranchers (something to suck on as his mouth gets really dry). This is mortifying. I felt the need to explain to everyone I passed, "This really isn't for me. I'm shopping for my husband," followed with a lame smile. I was getting sick to my stomach just looking at the stuff in my cart. I needed produce and needed it bad. I bee-lined back to the fruits and veggies, and threw a case of clementines, a bunch of bananas, a few colored peppers, a carton of eggs, a bunch of spinach, couple of pears and some Ezekiel bread. Ahhh . . . balance.

It took me an hour and a half to walk out with $102 of groceries. Can I even call them groceries? When I got home, I made this casserole—'scuse me, we're in Minnesota. Hotdish. I made this hotdish from a recipe Bob got from his mom, Penny, with some of the bounty I had just purchased. Ground beef crumbled on the bottom of a casserole dish, topped with a box of Stove Top, topped with a can of cream of 'shroom soup. Bake 50 minutes, then top with Durkee or Frenches fried onions and shredded cheddar and bake another 10 min. or so till cheese is melted and slightly golden. I asked Bob if he wanted me to put green beans, or onions and mushrooms—something to give it some semblance of nutrition. No, was his emphatic response. Make it just like my mom said. You can do veggies for sides if you have to have a vegetable. We dubbed it White Trash Hotdish for its complete and utter exclusion of even so much as onion. I had to make vegetables on the side, so I paired it with some green beans and beets.

OH. MY. GOD. This was manna from heaven. I have not seen Bob eat like this in weeks. He devoured his portion and would have gone back for seconds, except that he didn't want to make himself sick. I have to admit, this is the definition of comfort food. Once again, at that point in time, all was right in our world.

We've received many fabulous recipes from so many people, GREAT stuff that I can't wait to try: a super carb/fatty pork casserole, Drunken Cheesy Bread, pastas, chicken & gnocchi soup and something Nancy mentioned, called knubly soup (no one knows how to spell it, but the Andrzejeks call it Polish Penicillin . . .). Keep 'em coming! I'm excited to try them all! It's all good!

Peace, love and hotdishes to all . . .