A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.
Oliver Wendell Holmes
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This burger isn’t made with hamburger, that is. The picture could fool you though, couldn’t it? I had been wanting to try a meat free burger for a while and finally made an attempt at it a few weeks ago. I hoped that I could make a completely vegan burger, to eat as low on the food chain as possible, but I just couldn’t get it to taste right or hold together to my liking without the addition of some Worcestershire and an egg. Greg and I both really liked them, and would certainly eat them again. The one caveat is that they smoosh out of the bun as you eat them, but you can just squish everything back into place as you go!
Yummy Homemade Bean Burgers (makes three “regular sized” burgers)
One 14 ounce can of beans, drained and rinsed (I used great northern, but I’ve seen plenty use black, kidney, or pinto)
1/4 pound mushrooms diced fine and sauteed until they begin to sweat
2 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon Worchestshire sauce
1/2 teaspoon liquid smoke
garlic, salt, and pepper to taste
1 egg
Mix everything but the egg in a food processor until smooth. Taste a little and correct seasoning, if necessary. Add egg. Make patties the size of your choice. Heat a pan over high and and a little oil, add burger, and cook for 3-4 minutes on each side, or until evenly browned. Now they’re ready for the bun. Use your imagination and enjoy!
Tags: Cooking and Baking
Have you ever been at a Chinese restaurant and played the game where you add the words “in bed” at the end of every fortune? For instance: Something good come your way…in bed. It is a silly way to get a laugh, made better by the often poor English translations. I ask this because I feel like my life has been turned into a bizarre version of this game. The photo shows just a few of the activities I’ve engaged in (in bed) since coming home: sleeping (lots and lots), painting, reading, and writing. I’ve also listened to music (Radiohead at the moment), given myself a manicure, eaten (oh the crumbs!), watched A LOT of television, movies, and lucky for me, entertained visitors.
Despite enjoying some of the Queen-like aspects of such an existence, I must admit that it’s been rather hard on me, and, sometimes, the dear hubster. I am a homemaker by trade. I think this is the first time I’ve admitted it so honestly. Though I love to write, this is my bread and butter. I receive great pleasure from keeping house: gardening, cooking, cleaning, sweeping. To say it has not been easy to hand over all of these duties is putting it mildly. At first it sounds good, and really is, because there’s no way anyone should engage in such activities after a surgery like mine, but then the reality of not being able to do it sets in, and it gets depressing. I have shed quite a few tears over not being able to make the bed, water the garden, or do the laundry entirely on my own. I have also been a little wicked and expressed my distaste at how the hubster doesn’t do things like me. Bless his GIGANTIC heart, he has taken it all in stride and forgiven me my cruelty. Oh, do I love him so.
However, I have a BUT for you, dear readers! This morning, I actually had enough strength to water the garden, sweep the main floor, tidy up the TV room (which is upstairs!), and clean the kitchen. Though it took twice as long as it normally would, and I did much of the cleaning while sitting down, I did it! Progress!
Here’s a bit more, too. This is a photo Gregory took of me on Friday (on his Blackberry – we haven’t graduated to taking the camera everywhere). I am wearing the Office Tiara (maybe I am a queen – tee hee!) while waiting for my specialist and my first post-operative check-up. She removed the remainder of my steri-strips (ouch!) from the incisions and was pleased as punch at the rate of healing (I still feel a bit like Frankenstein – more emotional work to do there). I was given the all-clear for another two weeks, as well as a new hormone prescription that we hope will, as Liz said, “Keep the endometriosis on the run.”
Speaking of being on the run, I still can’t drive (lack of mobility + narcotics consumption= bad idea), but haven’t really wanted to anyway – there’s no place like home. I’ve walked to the neighbor’s house with the help of my cane (watch out Kramer), and that seems plenty far to me. Same goes for this post. It’s been a busy day. I think it’s time for a nap!
Tags: Endometriosis
If you are anything like me, you probably seek familiar comforts in times of stress, the pleasures that feel most like home: certain foods, music, books or movies. As you might imagine, after having my body go through such upheaval and pain, combined with the emotional baggage of requiring so much help from others, this week has been a giant one for comfort seeking. I’m listening to lots of Iron and Wine, eating knox blox like I did when I was a kid (though now they are a healthier, fruit juice version), and moving through my favorite movies in our collection, Cold Comfort Farm being at the top of the list.
It is a wonderfully witty film about a young woman living in 1920’s Britain. Both of Flora Poste’s (Kate Beckinsale) parents have just died. Since she is the sort of woman who isn’t accustomed to regular work (with no desire to try, except to write a novel at age 53), and has a small income from her parents’ estate, she would rather find relatives with whom to live until she gets married. She sends out piteous letters, hoping to find just the right match, for she’s also seeking a family that’s a bit of a mess, one she can get back into shape. The letter of response that sounds (and smells) most promising is from her cousin Judith on Cold Comfort Farm. “We must atone for the wrong done to your father, Robert Poste’s child.”
What ensues is a hilarious romp in the countryside, filled with a wide variety of kooky characters and scenarios. First, there is cousin Judith, the writer of the letter. She is a gloomy sort, obsessed with her beautiful, libertine son, Seth. Then there’s cousin Amos and his rather peculiar brand of hellfire and brimstone preaching, shouting, “There’ll be no butter in HELL!” to his quivering brethren. The next of the lot is Aunt Ada Doom, who saw something nasty in the woodshed and refuses to come out from her room, save one very serious occasion each year. There’s also Adam Lambsbreath, who’d rather use a twig than sully a beautiful dishmop, as well as Rubin, the one who really ought to be running the farm. Flora uses her particular brand of practicality to make each of their dreams come true while also introducing the concepts of family planning and afternoon tea.
The silly and sometimes outrageous story is only enhanced by the often wickedly clever dialogue. Here’s just a few of my favorite lines:
“In fact, when poetry is combined with ill groomed hair and eccentric dress, it is generally fatal.”
“It is bad to be dewy eyed among smart people, but you can always secretly despise them.”
“I saw something nasty in the woodshed!” “Sure you did, but did it see you, baby?”
“Oh Charles, you do have heavenly teeth!”
Oh, such comfort on Cold Comfort Farm! Thanks for never letting me down.
Hello my friends!
Gosh, it feels so good to be back in blogland! Now if I could just be in the land of the fully mobile and conscious, that would be grand. I am not complaining, however. I feel better with each passing day, requiring smaller doses of narcotics to keep the pain down, while gaining more strength and mobility. When I first got home, I was popping pills like crazy and had to use my walker (remember that?) every time I wanted to go anywhere, though my trips were mostly limited between our bed and the bathroom. Going all the way to the kitchen was considered a big feat!
Now, I only need the walker about half of the time, moving quite freely on the first floor of the house. I don’t know when I will muster up the strength to go upstairs, but, thanks to my superstar hubster and guest blogger, I have practically everything I need in our bedroom: a borrowed air conditioner for this hellish weather (107 today, ugh), a boom box, television, lap top, watercolors, books, and snacks! It’s pretty darn cool, pun intended.
Endometriosis
Since a lot of people have asked questions about the endometriosis that led me to my surgery and this cozy bedroom lair, I thought I’d give a little information about it, and why it was causing so much trouble for me. In a nutshell, endometriosis is when tissue from inside the uterus migrates elsewhere in the pelvic cavity (no one knows why, when, or how). It is problematic because it has hormones and a monthly period just like the uterus, only it can’t exit the body like a normal period does, so it stays inside a woman’s abdomen, where it creates adhesions, like scar tissue. Think about it like this – you spill something on the counter without cleaning it up right away. When you return in a few hours, you touch the spot and your hand sticks to it, and sometimes even creates a kind of gooey, taffy-like bond. Only with endometriosis, you can’t wash it off. The taffy just spreads, connecting tissue and organs that have no business being such close neighbors, and, at least in my case, causing some pretty intense pain.
This is why my surgery could not be completed laparoscopically, and I had to be opened up. My insides were so thoroughly bound and twisted with taffy-like adhesions that my doctor needed to get inside and carefully cut everything apart. Thankfully, she was able to do so. In the process, she removed my uterus (complete with a large adenomyoma), my fist-sized right ovary, both fallopian tubes, as many adhesions as she could, and then zapped the remaining visible endometriosis with a really good laser. It’s no wonder it took over six hours!
Waves
Being in the hospital was a very emotional experience for me, like I was out at sea and riding a series of waves to shore, to home, and with each wave came a different emotion: gratitude, release, sadness, disbelief, joy, and wonder. Gratitude – I survived my surgery. I was alive, and the healing process was underway. Release – I am a pretty independent person, but in this situation, I had to, quite literally, hand my body over to strangers. They fed me, clothed me, bathed me, all with great kindness, compassion, and respect. Sadness – Even though I had never wanted children, I felt sad that this definitively left that choice out of my hands, though I guess it never really was. I am not driving this bus! Disbelief – For my recovery, I was placed in the Family Birthing Center, as the staff there would best know how to treat someone in my condition. Perhaps this seems a logical choice for someone who has already had children, but for me, it seemed a bit, well, odd. The lady who can never have children, infertile Myrtle, chockablock with mothers and babies? This same feeling of disbelief, however, was replaced by Joy – To be in the most precious place in a hospital, to witness those first days of life, the first tiny cries, each beautiful babe swaddled, hatted, and loved by all. Finally Wonder – There is so much kindness in the world, so many talented people doing their best work, so much love, and I am a living, breathing part of it all.
Thank You
Now it is time for some shout-outs. First and foremost, to my amazing husband. Through our eighteen years of my increasing pain and suffering, he has always been a source of great love and support. I could not imagine a better partner or friend, no siree Bob. During my hospital stay, it was the hours he was there that I felt most safe. Listening to him type away on his laptop or hearing his whispers in the dark, it was almost as if I were home and not hooked to a catheter, pulse oximeter, and an IV. I was free.
My fantastic doctors. First, to Petra Caruso, Naturopathic MD. One of the most kind and compassionate health care professionals I have ever had the privilege to meet, she has been on this journey with me for nearly two years, constantly striving to find new, healthy solutions to make my life more comfortable. When she realized our options had been exhausted, she recommended my awesome specialist, Dr. Liz Newhall. Oh goodness, I am ever so pleased to have found her way while on my own. She is an amazingly talented woman, highly educated in her craft of women’s health, with a heart and humor to match. After my surgery, when I asked her how bad it was, and she told me that it was one of the worst cases she’d seen in her thirty years of practice, she said, “You would have won a blue ribbon at the fair, no doubt about it.”
YOU, the people of cyberspace, across the street, across town, across the world. Thank you so much for your prayers, kind thoughts, cards, meals, visits, everything. I felt and continue to feel so bouyed by all the love being sent my way, so incredibly grateful to be alive!
Tags: Endometriosis
