Eat Up
Psychologically, my Mom has avoided using the feeding tube for Dad. She has fought it every step of the way. He's even got one and they haven't resorted to using it. But it's time to get over that mental block and use it. Dad is just not getting stronger. He's only got one more session of radiation today and the chemo is over - logic would mean that he will start to feel better pretty quickly. But logic doesn't play a part in cancer especially when the patient is 83.
He needs to keep his energy levels up, but that's pretty darn hard with no fuel. And he can't eat because it's uncomfortable and difficult. And the more he thinks about it the worse it gets. He can sit for hours forcing down the Ensure nutrient shake each morning. Psyching himself in and out of the task. Mom has to come in every 20 minutes or so and nag him - actually, yell is more like it. She's really tried to keep him from being an old invalid and feeling sorry for himself. She sees that as the way down - and when down there, it's hard to turn around and get back up. Sio calls it 'circling the drain'. A lot of our parents and siblings and friends have been dangerously close to 'the drain' lately.
Angel Daniel has been relieved by Angel Norio - my cousin on my mother's side - well, actually my cousin Dorothy's husband. He is a lifesaver too. I cannot think how I will be able to repay their kindness. Norio is retired and my cousin Dorothy offered his services for Dad care. He flew over from Sacramento and has been there a week. Aside from helping Dad get up from the sitting position and chauffeuring him to doctors appointments, he has been on pumping duty. There's been record rainfall in the DC Area and of course, the basement has flooded. Norio has had to keep vigil and go down every few hours and pump with the wet vac. Is there anything else that can go wrong ?
Mom has been so amazing this whole journey. But she is exhausted. She feels like she is tasked with keeping a concentration camp victim alive - except this one refuses to cooperate and whinges at all the food put in front of him. Mom and I were talking about Dad and his vanity the other day - which seems to have worsened through this whole ordeal. I decided if the situation were reversed and Mom was this ill, it would still be all about Dad. He would still talk about the effect it has on his life. And - I would have left work indefinitely because there's no way he could manage things the way she does.
I sent her a special package - just a nice Elizabeth David book - something she can sink her teeth in to. Well written food writing. And best of all, a brown paper package all for her - just because.
Monkeys in the House
Oh it's been busy in my life lately! Work and travel for meetings - so busy. I can hardly believe it's the middle of the year.
Last Thursday I invited a friend over for dinner. At the last minute, another friend called and said he was in the neighbourhood and would drop in if I had time - I remember my friend Holly once named 1998 the year of the 'drop in' - or was it 1999. Either way - it's kinda nice to have people stop by just to say 'hello'. Back to that connectivity thing - making sure you touch people and communicate, laugh, hug.
Luckily I had 4 of the meatiest brochettes ever from a great butcher shop near Parc Cinquantenaire. I love these because one is plenty for any dinner serving - and there's a tiny, tasty, fresh garlic and herb pork sausage popped on the end. I had two guys with hearty appetites - although the slighter one ate more than the large one - I had just enough food. Served with big salad of arrugula, sweet tomatoes, slices of buffalo mozzarella and my home-grown basil, balsamic and olive oil, sea salt and lots of cracked black pepper. Just right. Between the two men, they drank every beer in the house. I mean it. They just stayed and stayed and stayed at the table in my garden and talked into the night.
I guess they enjoyed themselves.
Saturday I was a bit more industrious. My Italian/Flemish friend came over to have a relaxed meal back in the garden. I made strips of courgette rolled with a ricotta, garlic, and chives stuffing as an appetiser. Coquilles St. Jacques (scallops in white sauce and cheese) for entree and for the maiin course, a beautiful monkfish with black olives, tomatoes, shallots, garlic, baked in white wine. Roquette dressed with lemon and extra virgin olive oil on the side. Strawberry and apricot tartlets for afters.
We finished the evening watching the Mexico v. Argentina World Cup match which went to overtime and then we walked Bunny Dog around the block and dropped my friend at his car. Was perfect.
It's been rather cool the last few days. Like Summer has decided to take a break - either that, or it's over - which is a possibility in Belgium. But I don't think so. :-)) Either way, cool weather keeps 'the babies' quieter and if it's raining - they are INSIDE!
'The Babies'. The neighbours on the first floor. (2nd floor in US) The ones with the baby farm - 3 babies under 3 years old - all live in a studio-style apartment with a terrace overlooking my garden. The apartment is huge with very high, beautiful ceilings and gorgeous period moulding and features, but still a studio!! The bedroom for the twins is below on the ground floor - that's weird - and a bit inconvenient for the tenant across the hall from them - he just leaves the building until after 'bedtime'.
They are nice people for the most part, but - a family of 5 just doesn't belong in that apartment. They spend every waking hour on the balcony terrace to feel like they are really outdoors. It always feels like there's people in my living room when I get home from a hard days work. He 'works' at home - although not sure what he does or when. So they are always there - always. Sometimes when I am in a bad mood, I call them the Monkey family - to myself of course. Mean ain't I??
The twin boys throw their cars in my garden every night. Usually, I come pretty close to getting plonked on the head with a Matchbox racer - last night I counted 16 scattered throughout the grass. Good thing I was out - would have been hard to avoid that car shower.
The babies scream and yell and cry which reverberates through the yards bouncing off the brick walls behind all the buildings. You can hear people closing their windows when one of the babies throws a fit.
The Mom usually lies in the sun all morning on Saturdays and Sundays (and I am sure all other days) and ignores the kids who are basically bored to death. They need to get fresh air and exercise. I have known whole weekends where they haven't taken the kids out of the apartment and off the deck the entire time. I guess it's too much bother with twin boys and a very small baby girl -especially if you're lazy.
The parents used to fill little dishpans with water and put them on the porch and let the twin boys frolic in the water. The boys' arms and legs hanging out and their bums submerged. They would throw cupfuls of water all over the place with plastic measuring cups. I got them a small inflatable pool. They love it. The Mom loves it. It fits right on the deck and both boys can sit together and feel like they are - well, a little more submerged - it's brightly coloured and fun. And Mom can sit in her tanning chair right next to them and do the minimum.
I can deal with kid stuff, but the adults are the kind of people that accumulate, dump and spread. Know the kind I mean? Their stuff starts to pile up everywhere - in the hallway, on the stairs, out front, in the cave, in the storage room (but not stored in boxes).
They take advantage of you too - the kind of people that march in and ask for garbage bags or tape or ladders or to use your ice cooler, or leave the kids in the garden without asking - and then never think to say 'thanks'. The kind of people who happily return an extra outdoor table they 'borrowed' in fine condition - and now it's got two wobbly legs and doesn't stand up straight anymore.
They claim they won't re-sign the lease because the trees have been cut down and it's not pleasant anymore. But I can't see them motivating to go anywhere anytime soon - that would take effort - monkeys.. :-)
OK - enough of me being cheeky
Have a nice day
My World Cup Runneth over
I am in a fog concerning the World Cup. Football is swirling all around me and yet I don't see anything, can't quite make out what's coming next.
Every apartment is alight with the reflected flickering of their TV screens. Groans and moans and cheers and jeers can be heard rippling through the alleyways and streets - as if a rumble is just around the corner, everywhere. Parks and squares with big screen TVs set up are jammed with double-fisted beer drinkers and colourful jerseys, flags, scarves, and face paint. And for the first time ever, I really don't feel like I am missing anything.
Since Germany is only a couple hours away, there are a lot of World Cup fans staying in Belgium. Cheaper. Huge groups of middle-aged Swedish men roam in packs going from bar to bar. England supporters gird themselves with St. George crosses on their jerseys, faces - everything - someone asks me if they can paint the St. George cross on Bunny Dog for the match Tuesday - gee, I'll have to think about it. Um, NO!
I met some friends out on Saturday night and everyone was wishing me luck. What on earth for? (the other shoe drops) Oh, USA v Italy. Well, really, there's no contest is there? Italy and all Italians assume that they will wipe USA off the planet. Naturally. Football is not a sport in USA - not really - they think.
I don't care, I really don't care. I am not 'in' to footie. When I moved to Europe, I thought I would give it a chance. Then I realised that there was too much to learn. So many clubs, so many teams, so many countries, so many leagues, so many tournaments so many matches, so many - too much! Even Belgium has like 3 football leagues and this is a tiny country! Too complicated.
I know some of the biggies - Ronaldinho, Beckham, Rooney..well OK - I know 3 biggies. But I don't know any USA players - sorry.
So we (USA) tied with Italy that night - much to the Italians' collective chagrin. They felt that a proper bashing of a team like USA would make them feel more secure when they had to face a 'real' football team. Grown men - almost in tears over a draw - I am not exaggerating.
With zero effort on my part, I was on the 'Not-winning-but-not-losing-team'. I was on the team that ALMOST won against Italy - (we had a second goal that was rejected because it was offside)- But we got in the zone time and time again. A threat. Now - remember, I don't care about this stuff at all....
The fog is lifting a bit - a group of handsome Italian men have just come over to flirt with me and communicate to Bunny Dog. (this dog is one great party trick). One of the Italian supporters asks where I am originally from.....dare I?
The Big Dipper
Last night I had dinner with my dear friend Laura who is Catalan. We don't see one another often enough - That has to change - We are friends for life and I have to work on that as we all must.
She and I went to the new Portuguese restaurant in my neighbourhood. Her father is extremely ill and I could tell by her face that it wasn't good news. Her father had polio as a child and has severe problems with diabetes. A few weeks ago, Doctors had to remove his 'good' foot - ie. the one that wasn't stricken weak from childhood diabetes. There's nothing to be said about the pain of that situation - there's a long uphill struggle for the whole family.
The Portuguese restaurant was an elixir for unhappiness last night. The restaurant is so new! Last night was it's 4th operating night - and it showed! Aside from the fact that dinner took an hour and a half to arrive in front of us, the bashful waiter stayed hidden behind the bar for the bulk of our waiting time as he was not only new, but ashamed of the time it took to get food in front of all of his hungry customers out on the terrace. It would have helped to have water and bread to tie us over until the meal came. We were, for the most part, patient and would have appreciated it greatly if he had come over and commiserated with us. The effect a whole bottle of Vino Verde without sustenance made us giddy beyond belief!
At one point, we looked at a table next to us with three diners holding their knives and forks in their fists ready to bang on the table like orphans in a Dickens novel. (after an hour of waiting!) We saw this and just lost it. Pressures from work, life and a shared sorrow for our Dads health took over. We were giggle monsters. It was so lovely. Like the kind of uncontrollable laughter I get when together with my longest-known, best, growing-up, growing adult - growing everything! friends Sio, Hols, Mary - and from this side of the ocean - Lara. Magnificent. The food was pretty good after all that waiting tho! Not sure if it was hunger ot taste, but good anyway.
When I got home, I sat in my garden and just stared at the night sky. It seemed as if everyone was asleep in the neighbourhood as no lghts were on. The Stars were so bright. I decided that the 'Big dipper' was sitting exactly over my garden in the middle of Brussels. So amazing and all my own for the night.
Dad came home from the hospital yesterday. Not necessarily because he's better, but because he couldn't stand getting worse. (A special 'thank you'goes out to a slightly questionable nurse who tried to find a vein for an IV a few days ago and butchered Dad's arm). He's extremely weak and frail. Mom came down with the flu like a ton of bricks last night. The Angel - Family Friend Daniel is there making life worth living. Thank God.
I had a 45-minute conversation phone call with Dad this morning including details of Daniel's dinner last night -when a few friends popped by. Dad loved it and he is regenerated by being home. He's at his best when the acting as the MC for life, news and culture. Dad is still weak, but so happy to be home with Mom, his dog and good friends. He sounded like himself. That's pretty good. Still, keep fingers crossed and thoughts floating their way ...please.
A very special Happy Birthday Today (Saturday June 10) to Aussie Girl who celebrates today - in her own words - 'The First Anniversary of her 30th Birthday'. I love you Aussie girl! Oh, but stop asking me for advice on men - you know me better than that! I have no clue!
Looking for the big dipper....
eleny keep going - miss you
Strawberries and Sunshine
On the way to work, I usually pick up my melon salad at the Metroshop just off the De Broukere metro. Then I zig zag over to my office making a special zag over to the croissant shop. This morning, as I turned the corner of the Anglican church on Rue Neuve, I smelled a wave of sweetness in the air. The kind of sweetness that tells you summer is here. Ah. Fresh, juicy sweet Strawberries from Wepion.
Wepion is a small village in a valley about 1 hour south of Brussels. It is surrounded by fertile farmland between the historic Ardennes towns of Namur and Dinant. The Meuse and Lesse rivers flow from the Ardennes mountains through the valley here. All along the rural highway, there are small white shacks with hand-painted strawberry signs propped along the safety lanes. There's even a strawberry museum - I think it's in Anhee just before Dinant.
These strawberries are not the bland, dry, artificial mini-boulders that are flown in from Spain. These are medium-sized, gems of sweetness just bursting with juice. The juice tastes like nectar laced with honey - followed by a sweet puckery berry punch. The actual flesh of the fruit smells as if it's been toasted in the sun - and is a deep, dark cherry colour. These are strawberries that you slurp. Phenomenal.
How lucky am I to be sitting with a box of Wepion strawberries on my desk? Sitting with the sun shining on me as I work - a light breeze. Very lucky indeed.
Update on Dad:
Touch and go - he's eating marginally more. In very small small bites. If he can get his hiccups under control, he can eat more and go home - possibly Friday. A male nurse from Cuba who wheels Dad down for his radiation treatment told Dad his Mom's cure for the hiccups: Tear off a piece of newspaper, wet it in water, and stick it to your forehead. Righto...this is where we are with this whole hiccups thing. Scary.
An angel has arrived in Washington, a dear family friend who is between jobs. His wife is with the State Department stationed in Mexico City - she sent her husband to DC to support Mom and Dad. Besides being a very close - loyal and wonderful friend to my parents, Daniel is a classically trained French Chef (was sous chef at the Jockey Club when they lived there) and a dog lover. My parents are in great hands. I am so thankful. Right now, Dad is probably talking to Anne-Marie, the staff nurse from Vietnam - sitting there with a bit of newspaper stuck to his forehead - it works for him you know....
Easy does it
I have already mentioned that it's hard getting back in to the work mode - in fact, you're tired of hearing it now. But I have to say, having a 3-day weekend the first weekend after returning from holiday is either really smart or really stupid. Hey, it's Tuesday after the Monday holiday - too early to tell yet, but definitely nicer to ease in to things - hope I get in the zone soon - some customers are getting whingey.
So, my 3-day weekend:
Mom sent me the Julia Child book
My Life in France. It was the perfect distraction for me - as I wasn't in the mood to go out. I had plans to catch-up on things at home and have a friend over for a nice summery supper one night over the weekend. I managed to get it all done while still devouring Julia's book.
Julia's first experience with France was in Normandy and it remained one of her most-loved places in the world. I can so relate to what she experienced there. I can relate to setting up her kitchen as a first priority each time she moved. The joy when the best fish monger recognises you and accepts you as a cook who knows what she is doing.
I had a good friend over for pretty mediocre pesto Sunday evening (if I do say so myself - it was the most garlicky pesto I have ever made)and a nice summery salad of lambs lettuce (salad de ble), fresh roquette, baby yellow plum tomatoes and a white balsamic vinaigrette. A very nice Camembert from Calvados which was just about to ripen to the point where it could walk out the door on it's own - but absolutely delicious. My friend seemed to enjoy dinner. As our dinner progressed he told me that his father had died of esophageal cancer and my heart sank in to deep despair. However, the details of his father's illness make it sound like a completely different disease than my father's. His father was 56, smoked and drank heavily, and did not see a doctor until is cancer had metastasized and was well beyond stage 5 and a cure.
My dad is 84 and cancer grows extremely slowly in older people. He also caught this in stage 2. He never, ever smoked - or drank in excess - and didn't drink at all for the last 5 years. So forgive me if I dismiss that conversation - It's not the same thing and it's not hopeless.
Dad had a rough start to the weekend, still suffering severe runny tummy and unable to get anything down his esophagus. Losing weight at 2-3 lbs a day. But the hospital and staff are taking great care of him.
By yesterday (Monday) he had eaten half a slice of bacon and 1/4 of his pancakes for breakfast. A major coup when he's eaten nothing solid for a week!! He has devoured as much soft ice cream as he could bribe someone to get him - he's not allowed to have it - it makes his runny tummy worse but he loves it.
Mom and I agreed to get worried if he didn't have a daily list of 20 things to bring from home to his hospital room. Yesterday he wanted all of the papers and magazines(because he is a news junkie) , he wanted all sorts of radios, ear plugs, gadgets and of course, Sakajaweah silver dollars to give to Nurses, orderlies, and candy stripers who are nice to him. Dad had struck up a conversation with a nurse from St. Sebastian in The Basque area and wanted Mom to bring in brochures of where they had visited and dined when there a couple of years ago.
Mom had brought him a beautiful rose stem from the rose bush in front of their house. It had 5 or 6 beautiful peachy, tea rose blossoms on it and he gave blossoms away to his favourite nurses. He made sure his Hungarian doctor knew I was part Hungarian and that famous Hungarian Artist Paul Tacazs was my god father. (The Doctor was impressed).
He's eating bit by bit. He's asking everyone where they are originally from, he's talking about what makes for major headlines in the news and complaining about the number and repetitiveness of commercials on network TV. All in all - still Dad. His stomach is better but he has the worst hiccoughs he's ever had. Going on a few days of them and he's getting pretty fed up with those.
In between hiccough stutters, We chatted about Bush, Iraq, Afghanistan, East Timor and Somalia. I told him I was reading the Julia Child book that they had sent me in the mail. He said he knew her husband Paul Child quite well in USIA. I never knew that.
All in all, I think the prayers are working :-))
Now - he and I need to just ease back in to things. He needs to ease in to getting stronger and getting some exercise and getting home. I need to ease in to helping these customers who freak over every tiny issue and lend a sense of calm cool collected-ness to the situation. Yeah right.
Thanks to the wonderful, thoughtful, caring friends who have sent me text messages or e-mails to lend support and to make contact. I appreciate it.
