Eating out

During the lockdown sessions in radiation, one of the (many) things I told myself as I waited to get through each session was that when I healed enough, I would return to some of my favorite places to eat, and continue my quest of trying a new place each week.

One of those favorites was Yoshi’s, a sushi restaurant. A dear friend of mine took me out to dinner a couple weeks ago for my first dinner out in public in a year, and my first choice was Yoshi’s. Alas, they have closed, so we went to a backup sushi place instead, which was good enough, but not quite the same.

However, the public dining experience was not altogether bad. This past week, since I have been without a proper refrigerator while awaiting delivery of my nice, shiny, new one, I’ve eaten out several times at Biscotti’s, a bistro-type place near where I used to live. Tonight, once again, I ate there and finally had the tuna tataki I had promised myself during those long months of treatment and recovery. I’m happy to say I finished all of it, plus a cup of soup, and a few tiny bites of a small mocha chocolate-mousse torte with chocolate ganache. I’ve found that really sweet items like the torte kill the fillings on the right lower side of my mouth. I’m not sure why this is, and why non-sweet things do not (although I do experience some pain if I’ve been eating quite a bit and chew on that side), but I’m betting there is some valid physiological reason for it. I suppose I’ll have to ask my dentist about that during the next trip when they see if I can open my mouth widely enough for a real cleaning.

In any case, we (the royal we) are making progress, I think. I am not the patient sort with myself, though, and progress is not fast enough, in my opinion. Since it can’t be changed, though, I suppose I’ll have to keep hammering away at it.

The new fridge arrived this morning. It’s very pretty, and now needs to be filled. That’s my plan for Friday, along with making brownies and a test run at that chocolate-hazelnut tart. Any taste testers available?


In our last episode of visiting the medical staffs at various doctors’ office, yours truly promised to keep using the tube and pour a couple cups a day down it until the scales stabilized. I have to confess that’s one promise I’ve not kept. I’m not entirely sure why this is the case except for the fact I can’t stand using it, the formula makes me queasy (or worse), and now that I’m eating more real food, it smells worse than it used to when it was only formula going down. Smell, you ask? Why yes. Because the tube basically goes into a hole in your gut that’s continually trying to heal itself, you not only get gunk around the tube itself – this is why it always has to be dressed and can’t just lay against the skin – you also get a small but continuous amount of gas escaping from around it. Now, this is not noticeable, really, to anyone but the person carting the tube around with them all day long. Namely, me. And I’m getting pretty sick of all of that plus having to constantly readjust it around my neck to avoid having it get tangled up with itself. It’s painful, even after all this time, and it’s a little odd to be talking to someone and trying to adjust the tube at the same time. They always wonder just what it is you’re doing with yourself there – not quite the faux pas of a baseball player adjusting himself on national television, but annoying and sometimes embarrassing anyway.

So I’m considering going forward with scheduling a date to have it removed. Unfortunately, that date will have to be after the big bash on Memorial Day weekend, and I know I will be out of commission for the day after it’s removed and possibly for part of the next day since the procedure is almost the same as when they put it in. Nothing like being pumped up with air like a ballon and then having to let the air dissipate naturally. It hurts and I hate it, but there’s no way around it in order to get the tube removed.

I know this is going to be a bone of contention with those around me, and it was a lifesaver during and after treatment, but at this point I simply think it’s time for the tube to go.