11.14 a.m. Still in the throes of the five-day slump. Such a hard day. So tired of trying to accept and process everything that is happening.
4.00 p.m. Grateful for Lara McDowell’s McBeautiful hedgehog slice.
Fattening-up food for Cliff. Fabulous for freezing. So they will last and I can pull them out the night before, when I fill up his daily Tupperware snack box of the three healthy and fattening foods he eats with full-cream milk and fruit.
People who think they know about diet and cancer will have an opinion about what Cliff should eat. You can judge his eating habits. No one will stop you. Just remember I’m only giving you part of the story. You are not informed. This isn’t a medical blog about what kind of cancer he has and the genome sequencing involved in the hunt for triggers that are activated in the rouge cells. I’m not going into the medical details. Nor is this a blog about fighting cancer with food. There are blogs like that. This isn’t it. I will only say one thing about his diet: telling Cliff (who has always had an excellent diet but is now super scary skinny and desperately needs to gain weight to survive) that eating a no-sugar diet is going to help fight his cancer is like telling a soldier in war, who’s just had the lower half of his body blown off by a grenade and is lying, dying in your arms, that if he stops eating sugar he’ll be fine. It’s about that effective.
Aaaaand, you deserve an explanation. That last paragraph happened because we went to a place today called the The Boudine Centre. It offers meditation and counselling services, as well as a wellness library. It has a program that involves healthy eating and it’s a little, well, single-minded. That last paragraph is a direct reaction from the meeting with the counsellor, who was at pains to say, ‘O.K., you didn’t exactly cause you own cancer but … probably your lifestyle made you susceptible to it and you can cure it if you stop eating sugar and meditate the way we tell you to.’ It did not sit well with me. It’s as if they’re saying, if he doesn’t cure himself, he isn’t trying hard enough.
6.06 p.m. Teetah and PJ brought their minister to dinner at our house tonight. Leo and Cliff answered the door. Leo said, ‘What’s your name?’ She told him it was Beth. Leo said, ‘Why are you here?’ She replied she was a friend of his grandparents. And Leo said, ‘How old are you?’ Oops. She said, ‘Too old.’ And Leo went on to say, ‘My dad is 24.’
So nice to have a laugh. Thanks, Leo.