{"id":1228,"date":"2006-10-26T10:32:30","date_gmt":"2006-10-26T10:32:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/coreyshead.com\/blog\/?p=1228"},"modified":"2013-06-12T10:55:29","modified_gmt":"2013-06-12T17:55:29","slug":"cancer-old-friends-in-a-suitcase","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/coreyshead.com\/blog\/2006\/10\/26\/cancer-old-friends-in-a-suitcase\/","title":{"rendered":"Cancer, Gluttony, &#038; Old Friends in a Suitcase"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><i>this blog began as a section on my site called &#8220;Infinite Diarrhea&#8221; which I took down very shortly after starting it because \u2026 people were reading it.  This, in turn, was causing problems in my already failing marriage \u2026<\/i><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>A couple of days ago, we visited my father and stepmother, the latter whom is recovering from a 6 week session of radiation and chemotherapy for tonsil cancer, which had spread to her lymph node &#8211; a cure that left her swollen, excessively burnt about the face and chest, and damn-near dead. She is still hooked up to a feeding tube and looks like a shadow of her former self but the sparkle is back in her eyes and she no longer smells like a corpse.<\/p>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>While visiting them, we had dinner &#8211; my Dad&#8217;s to-die-for burritos &#8211; and for dessert they served up a luscious chocolate and carmel cheesecake, all the while my Step-Mom sat there smiling, watching us eat with a tube hanging out of her gut that ran up to a bag of what amounts to baby formula for adults.<\/p>\n<p>Now, due to her <a href=\"https:\/\/coreyshead.com\/blog\/?p=1172\">thumb injury<\/a>, Sharon is not supposed to eat anything that gets her heart rate up; no caffeine, nicotine, etc. This includes chocolate, which, like so many women, is practically Sharon&#8217;s lifeblood.<\/p>\n<p>She accepted a piece of the cheesecake, eating dutifully and delicately around the chocolate layer, savoring every bite.<\/p>\n<p>When it was time to go home, Dad insisted we take home the remaining two-thirds of the cheesecake, which we did after some cursory demurement.<\/p>\n<p>The next night, after dinner, I went to work on my homework while Sharon and Mel watched a DVD. I heard them get dessert at one point and imagined myself sinking into a piece after completing my studies.<\/p>\n<p>I finished around a half-an-hour after the girls had finished their movie and was dismayed to see that my daughter and wife had gone to bed without even saying good night to me. Certainly I was engrossed in my work but I had traded a few asides with them both during the movie and afterwards as they went upstairs -yet no one thought of saying good night to ol&#8217; Dad.<\/p>\n<p>Passing through the kitchen, I noted the gutted remnants of the cheesecake container with nary a sticky crumb in sight. Not only had they gone to bed without telling me, they&#8217;d not left me even a thin sliver of the dessert!<\/p>\n<p>Of course, saying &#8220;they&#8221; in the case of the dessert is a bit unfair. I already knew this before I asked but, the next morning, Mel told me that she&#8217;d only had one medium-sized piece of cheesecake for dessert the night before; her mom had eaten the rest. &#8220;Did she eat the whole rest of the cheesecake while you guys finished the movie?!?&#8221; I asked, incredulous. &#8220;No, Dad. All that was left by the time I saw it was two pieces worth.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Sharon had eaten the rest of it &#8211; almost half a cheesecake, including the chocolate &#8211; during the preceding day!<\/p>\n<p>The very next evening, when I arrived home from work, Sharon was in the bathroom, complaining of diarrhea.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sick!&#8221; she called through the door, &#8220;I don&#8217;t know why? I hope it&#8217;s not a bug!&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>In the trashcan there was a large, empty package of strawberry wafer cookies, cookies that had not even been in our larder that morning . .<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; &#8212; &#8212;<\/p>\n<p>I finally got into the garage today, where the bulk of our belongings are stacked or piled haphazardly in boxes and bags, and organized it a bit, pulling many items into the appropriate rooms of the house for unloading.<\/p>\n<p>One box contained a suitcase I&#8217;ve not opened in . . . 10 years?<\/p>\n<p>I opened it tonight and it was full of old friends &#8211; letters from people dated 1989 that I&#8217;ve not read since that date. Names like Liz Jones and Bill Spaulding. I read a few then closed up the suitcase for future perusal.<\/p>\n<p>Part of me was filled with the urge to track down some of these folks but for most of the names, this would prove quite difficult, I am sure.<\/p>\n<p>For one thing, women have a tendency to get married and lose the last names they had in their youth, for another, none of the names likely remaining extant are particularly uncommon.<\/p>\n<p>Besides, 6 years ago I did make the effort to track some old friends and coworkers down and, with few exceptions (Hi, Kevin!) it proved not only fruitless but depressing.<\/p>\n<p>The people we all once were are no more &#8211; we grow, we change. That person I knew is gone &#8211; dead for all intents and purposes. Certainly some shred of them remains, some vestigial bit of pulp but, for the most part: pfffffft.<\/p>\n<p>That being said, I sure as hell would like to track down Liz Jones.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; this blog began as a section on my site called &#8220;Infinite Diarrhea&#8221; which I took down very shortly after starting it because \u2026 people were reading it. This, in turn, was causing problems in my already failing marriage \u2026 &nbsp; A couple of days ago, we visited my father and stepmother, the latter whom [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[122,123],"class_list":["post-1228","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-autobiography","tag-divorce","tag-parenting"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v27.4 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>Cancer, Gluttony, &amp; Old Friends in a Suitcase<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/coreyshead.com\/blog\/2006\/10\/26\/cancer-old-friends-in-a-suitcase\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Cancer, Gluttony, &amp; Old Friends in a Suitcase\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"&nbsp; this blog began as a section on my site called &#8220;Infinite Diarrhea&#8221; which I took down very shortly after starting it because \u2026 people were reading it. 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