Yesterday, as the Boy & I were grocery shopping, I started to make a list of my "rewards."
"When I lose 10 pounds I'm having a bag of sunflower seeds," I announced. He looked concerned. "Just one," I added.
"When I lose 20 pounds, I'm having dinner at KFC." He satrted to laugh.
"30 pounds - I'm putting my face into a cheescake. 40 pounds - bacon fat. No bacon; just fat." He smirked and veered off to look at the elephant garlic. I smiled. Finally this suffering has a purpose.
So my uncle is dying. About fifteen years ago, my mother was diagnosed with a condition that makes her more susceptible to skin cancer than the normal population. She adjusted to this news fairly well, and invested a lot of energy into finding effective sun block and purchasing large amusing sun hats. After a few years of check ups, the doctors decided that there was no real reason to keep dragging her in until she started showing more symptoms of cancer. At the time, the doctors recommended that her family come in for some screening, as it would be useful to establish a family history. 5 brothers and both parents were alive then; to a person they all refused testing.
So now a decade and a half have passed. My grandfather has died (cancer) and one of my uncles as well (heart attack). About a year ago, my uncle noticed a growth on his back. He was in the midst of preparations for a move to North Bay; after two decades of teaching English overseas, he was finally about to get his teacher's degree. He went to the doctor; the doctor cut out the growth. A few months later, as he and his (fourth) wife were settling into life in a northern university town, the growth was back. He dropped out of school and came back to Toronto. He and his wife moved into the basement of my grandparents' house aka the perpetual refuge of my uncles in times of stress and turmoil. He borrowed some money and started homeopathic treatments. By the time he started chemo, the cancer had spread to his liver.
He's on morphine right now, living with his brother in St. Catherine's. He moved out of my grandparents' house after one too many arguments, which was probably for the best anyway - my grandparents are chain smokers and the second hand smoke was really bothering him...not to mention the fact that he's on a restricted diet and my grandmother continually turned up her nose at the ingredients his (Korean) wife put in his lentil soup. On Saturday we go to visit. He may not be alive by the time my mother and I get home from Holland.
So now you know.
Is it bad to see a group of students standing in the hallway and tick them off mentally? "Failed you...failed you...should've failed you...gonna fail you...you I don't know."
We finally got our Geoff Berner CD ("We Shall Not Flag or Fail, We Shall Go On to the End") and the Boy is playing air accordion as we speak. It's a beautiful CD, full of spit and spite and wit and laughter. The guy plays the hell out of that poor squeezebox. I love it.
