Who said that romance is dead? A couple of weeks ago I took Diana for a uniquely amatory experience - a 'rawmantic dinner' at a private house just around the corner from where we live. You think you know what is going on in your neighbourhood but here was a new world of raw vegan food - on our doorstep.
Now, I know what you're thinking; 'the cheapskate - taking Di out for a lettuce and raw carrot salad followed by an artfully-sliced apple'.
Think again.
This was a delicious, four course meal of exquisitely intense flavours. We sat down with two other couples, the hosts and a visiting female trainer (in tantric yoga - seemed appropriate) living in France. We started with a fresh fruit and beetroot-coloured juice in a flute, the rim of which was frosted with psyllium husks. This was followed by a spicy, cold soup again of a blood-red colour derived from beetroot, with an accompanying 'pumpkin cracker' made in a dehydrator. Then we enjoyed a couple of sushi-like delicacies consisting of avocado and sprouting seeds wrapped in some kind of seaweed. The 'main course' was a raw vegan lasagna with 'courgette pasta' and a filling of, among other things, cashew nut paste. This was served with a sprouting seed salad (probably alfalfa or broccoli). The 'pudding' was a slice of a carob-topped 'torte' with a fruit filling and whole grapes on a dried nut base. To conclude, we enjoyed two exquisite after-dinner, heart-shaped, carob and nut-paste, 'petit fours'.
In terms of volume (my family's usual measure of a 'good meal') we hadn't eaten a great deal but in our post-prandial discussion we all commented on how satisfyingly-full we felt. I'm sure that this had something to do with the intensity of the flavours in this uncooked dinner so skilfully concocted from unadulterated ingredients.
If I could eat food like this all the time, I too could live on a raw vegan diet but I can't get away from the idea that our hosts must spend most of their time in the kitchen.
Meanwhile we continue with our more-modest, plant-based diet in the hope that it makes a contribution to slowing the growth of the tumours in my lungs. By the way, I have to take the medics word for the existence of these tumours. I don't currently suffer from any direct physical effects. I do suffer from the 'chemo' medication I trustingly swallow and from the sciatica resulting from the scoliosis in my lower spine but not from the cancer itself.
Apparently, scoliosis is more widespread in the general population than you might think. We sufferers should form a support group, perhaps with Richard III as our patron?
Meanwhile, we should learn about the all-important latest CT scan results this Thursday (28th) at my regular oncology appointment. The proof of this particular pudding could well be in the eating.
And if things have not gone well and if I do become less mobile as has my old friend Geoff, who suffers from a similar condition, I can now, at least, look forward to enjoying the greater variety of wildlife visiting the garden. Why? Because my generously-motivated brother has dug a pond for me. It is still at the stage where it needs the softening effects of plants and the covering of the unattractive black liner at the margins but its an exciting addition.
I have wanted a pond since Shakespeare shredded the reputation of the last of the Plantagenets - now, at last, thanks to recent excavations, I have one.
Monday 25 February 2013
Tuesday 5 February 2013
Credit Tebbitt
It has arrived - and there is an air of anticipation in the house. I am referring to our latest item of conspicuous consumption, a Technogym Excite 700i upright exercise bike. The idea is to build on recent progress made with my exercise regime. I need regular cardiovascular work to counteract the toxic effects of the powerful 'chemo' drugs. The problem has always been; 'How to do this without creating further problems for my scoliotic back?' Recent, graduated and regular workouts on the equipment at my former school's Health and Fitness Centre, have indicated that an upright bike would be best. £450 later and the second-hand bike is here. Diana says I need 30 minutes a day of cv exercise to add to my 45 minute Pilates routine. Together with a regular walk to the shops, managing emails, a 'cup-of-tea' visit (home or away), catching up on the BBC news website, meals and the usual bouts of procrastination and that's it, the day is over.
It has arrived - and I'll admit to being more anxious this time around. The letter informing me that my next thoracic/abdominal/pelvic CT scan is scheduled for the coming Thursday evening came with the enclosed small bottle of 'omnipaque' contrast that I have to swallow 24 hours before the appointment. It is strange how I briefly experienced a butterfly wing of excitement when the padded envelope complete with bulge arrived through the door. Amazon parcel? A forgotten order? An unexpected gift from an unknown admirer? I'll confess to a feeling of disappointment on opening the seal.
Yet, I should be pleased. This scan, already delayed, is important because it promises to provide information on the critical question as to whether the reduction in my 'chemo' dosage has reduced the efficacy of the drug. If it has then my recent tangible, physical improvement and the accompanying, reassuring sense of control, will have been dealt a serious blow.
The 'sense of control' referred to above derives from the two areas of lifestyle that offer a measure of self-help when confronted by a barely-understood condition like cancer and the barely-understood interventions of medical science. These areas are diet and exercise. When things are being done to you, you need to feel that there are things you can do for yourself.
As far as the dietary element is concerned, if 'you are what you eat', then my flesh should, by now, be composed of organic vegetable fibre, my hair of wholemeal vermicelli pasta and my heart powered by soya protein. My pulse should be regulated by pulses and the blood that courses through my locally-grown veins must be a blend of organic carrot and beetroot juice. Tumours should have no purchase within such a body; they should wither on the vine-leaf dolmades. Our weekly supermarket shopping trolley is now so stuffed with vegetables that we serve as role models for those still fortunate to be eating high sugar-salt, dairy-drenched, processed, hydrogenated, saturated fat-fuelled ready-made meals. A fellow shopper, following me alongside the checkout conveyor belt, asked whether she could come home with me. She was, she said, 'so impressed' with the contents of my trolley.
She could, quite plausibly of course, have been employing a euphemism.
My mood swings according to whether I am focused on that which I can (up) or cannot (down) do. When I exercise, I sense the possibility of restoring something of my physical self. Intellectually, I know that I cannot undo what has been done but there is, at least, a possibility of improvement.
Ok, that's enough procrastination for one morning.
The time has come for me to follow Norman Tebbitt's famous dictum, 'get on your bike and look for [a] work[out]................'
It has arrived - and I'll admit to being more anxious this time around. The letter informing me that my next thoracic/abdominal/pelvic CT scan is scheduled for the coming Thursday evening came with the enclosed small bottle of 'omnipaque' contrast that I have to swallow 24 hours before the appointment. It is strange how I briefly experienced a butterfly wing of excitement when the padded envelope complete with bulge arrived through the door. Amazon parcel? A forgotten order? An unexpected gift from an unknown admirer? I'll confess to a feeling of disappointment on opening the seal.
Yet, I should be pleased. This scan, already delayed, is important because it promises to provide information on the critical question as to whether the reduction in my 'chemo' dosage has reduced the efficacy of the drug. If it has then my recent tangible, physical improvement and the accompanying, reassuring sense of control, will have been dealt a serious blow.
The 'sense of control' referred to above derives from the two areas of lifestyle that offer a measure of self-help when confronted by a barely-understood condition like cancer and the barely-understood interventions of medical science. These areas are diet and exercise. When things are being done to you, you need to feel that there are things you can do for yourself.
As far as the dietary element is concerned, if 'you are what you eat', then my flesh should, by now, be composed of organic vegetable fibre, my hair of wholemeal vermicelli pasta and my heart powered by soya protein. My pulse should be regulated by pulses and the blood that courses through my locally-grown veins must be a blend of organic carrot and beetroot juice. Tumours should have no purchase within such a body; they should wither on the vine-leaf dolmades. Our weekly supermarket shopping trolley is now so stuffed with vegetables that we serve as role models for those still fortunate to be eating high sugar-salt, dairy-drenched, processed, hydrogenated, saturated fat-fuelled ready-made meals. A fellow shopper, following me alongside the checkout conveyor belt, asked whether she could come home with me. She was, she said, 'so impressed' with the contents of my trolley.
She could, quite plausibly of course, have been employing a euphemism.
My mood swings according to whether I am focused on that which I can (up) or cannot (down) do. When I exercise, I sense the possibility of restoring something of my physical self. Intellectually, I know that I cannot undo what has been done but there is, at least, a possibility of improvement.
Ok, that's enough procrastination for one morning.
The time has come for me to follow Norman Tebbitt's famous dictum, 'get on your bike and look for [a] work[out]................'
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)