I've been reading some of my past posts and have concluded this blog is not going in the direction I'd hoped. It's really depressing! I didn't realize I had so much unresolved/unsaid/unfelt stuff left inside related to the loss of my parents. Maybe the long dark winter and the "window" of time (Ash Wednesday to Pentecost Sunday) bring a lot of memories and emotions to the surface that I had put off dealing with. At the time you bob along like a cork in a current and when you finally stop moving, you notice just how banged up you are. Time for me to step back and let those memories and reminders settle back down to background white noise. They are a part of me like my grey hair, I can't get rid of them, but I sure can hide them!
My original plan for this blog was to be a happy foodie kind of place with observations of life and the world around me. I need to get organized and figure out how to do tags so that my archives aren't all jumbled up (where did I post that recipe again??)
What's new in our world? HB and I have been working with a landscape architect to come up with a new backyard plan. We had the entire back wooded area cleared of invasive buck thorn last fall which gave us more yard to landscape. We also want to incorporate a nicer hardscape in place of the poured concrete patio. A fireplace/pit, pergola and water feature are on the wish list. The first plan was lovely and incorporated every detail, but came with a really hefty and alarming price tag. We are now in the whittle-down phase of determining the best math that balances form, function and financial frugality. I am really excited to get the project underway, but I think the nursery that is going to do the work is really backed up with orders as our spring was so wet and cold projects were delayed. Every discussion about plantings includes the two biggest questions: Will this survive in the rain shadow of the black walnuts and do deer like this? No to the first and yes to the second scratch those plants off the list!
I've been doing a lot of cooking outside and I love it. It's so nice to grill out and not have to futz with cleaning up the stove. I marinated chicken thighs in chardonnay, olive oil, shallots, garlic, Dijon and a huge handful of chopped fresh herbs (rosemary, thyme, basil and oregano) and grilled those out last night and topped them with butter sauteed fresh spinach, red bell peppers and mushrooms. I included a wild and brown rice Parmesan risotto and a salad. It was delicious!
Little and Big Toby (HB's sons) were over for Father's Day and HB had fun hanging with them. Little Toby is home for the summer after finishing his freshman year up at the U and Big Toby came down for the day to hang out. He's graduating from the U this winter with his degree in mechanical engineering. I made coffee-crusted ribeye steaks with bacon porter sauce. I'll have to post that recipe--they were fantastic. I made some ginger mashed sweet potatoes and cole slaw to go with. It got several big thumbs up from the menfolk.
I'm still following a no-wheat, no-sugar, no-HFCS, no-processed food diet and feel so much better. My IBS symptoms are gone, my arthritis pain is gone and most markedly, my anxiety is gone. 6 months ago I was considering seeing my doctor about getting anti-anxiety meds I was feeling so overwhelmed and afraid. But that's gone-vanished. A google search did find some links to mental health issues and wheat consumption. HMMMMMM. I'm also not going to complain about my weight loss--I'm down 15 pounds and going strong. I'm frustrated by some of my restrictions; I can't have nuts and I get hungry mid-afternoon and don't have a good snack (other than cheese or sausage) to fall back on. I'm trying to limit my fruit servings to breakfast and lunch. If anyone has a suggestion, I'd appreciate it. I can have small quantities of sunflower seeds but no peanuts, cashews, almonds or nut butters of any kind. I don't limit quantities of food, so I don't feel deprived as I'm not counting calories. I didn't start this eating plan to eliminate my IBS symptoms, I just took a hard look at my diet and realized I was eating a disproportionate amount of flour and sugar. So it seemed like an easy way to revamp my diet. A week or two in and my IBS symptoms disappeared. I googled flour and IBS and FODMAPS and voila! There's the connection. I think it makes it easier to stay on a 'weight loss' diet when you know the food you're eating is going to make you feel like crap.
This weekend I'm heading up north to help my friend CK butcher chickens. I am not sure how much help I'll be...I might be helping drink alcohol and cheering them on from a safe, non-splatter, non-feather-flying zone. I can run the vacuum sealer like no bodies business! CK brought me one of her chickens from last summer and it was fabulous and gigantic. I have a few on order for this year. I hope they don't have names. HB? Tonight we're having BBQ Bob. Or maybe it's Charlie.
Wish me luck and strong stomach. :-)
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
Another Anniversary
The 2nd anniversary of losing my Dad is on Wednesday. It's there, humming in the background like the drone of a distant neighbor's lawnmower.
I never finished my story about my Dad and his health crisis. My Mom was so sick, and so sick so fast that my Dad's illness crept up on delicate little cat-feet and surprised us all.
He ended up in the hospital following Thanksgiving 2010 with congestive heart failure. He'd been (relatively) fine that fall. My Dad had fought a long battle against prostate cancer, going 18 rounds of chemo, several early rounds of radiation, experimental hormone therapies and finally in the summer of 2010, he was approved for the newly released gene therapy Provenge. Coming off that, he felt a renewed sense of hope and optimism about his health. He did have some persistent kidney issues, both a result of childhood kidney cysts and some scarring from his radiation therapy. My Dad was active and vital, working 30+ hours a week, volunteering with their Church, his model airplane club and had recently retired from 30 years of volunteering at my college alma mater. He was not one to sit and let moss grow.
The diagnosis of CHF was a surprise. I'd been home in early October to help do fall yard clean up and he was busy raking, picking up cut brush, hauling stuff to the car, making multiple trips to the dump. He'd sit and rest in between but he never gave any indication of being ill. To come home 7 weeks later for Thanksgiving, to see him curled up in his chair, unable to get up, coughing heavily and seeming really restless and uneasy was alarming. My Mom, halfway through her chemo treatments, seemed healthier than my Dad. By Saturday morning, I was calling 911 and getting him admitted into the Cardiac unit at the big hospital. He eventually spent 3 days in the cardiac intensive care unit (which he loved, bless his heart) and came home with home health assistance. I took my Mom to her chemo appointment and extended my holiday vacation by an additional week to make sure he was home and settled.
We were home again at Christmas and my Mom's health had continued to decline and my Dad wasn't looking any better. He'd been in to see the cardiologist who basically said to stick with a low sodium fluid restricted diet. He was on massive diuretics. He couldn't have some of the standard diagnostic tests or standard CHF treatments due to his kidney functions. He insisted he just needed to rest and he'd be fine. We returned to our home and I called daily to check on them. He ended up needing fluid removed from a lung and he insisted he felt better.
When the call came that my Mom's cancer was no longer responding to treatment, I headed home. I didn't know how long I'd be there, but I packed for a week or so. It was February 19. She began home hospice on Feb. 23 and she was gone on March 9. During this time, she had weekly visits from the hospice nurse who was often more concerned about my Dad. He insisted he felt fine, just tired.
The week following my Mom's death was incredibly stressful. I was hauling my Dad around town making arrangements and trying to keep him afloat. He fell outside the Church before our meeting with the Pastor to plan her funeral. He fell in the garage a few days later after getting out of the car. He fell in the house trying to get to the bathroom. Every single time my heart went to my feet and my stomach wanted to come up through my chest. His legs were swollen and wrapped in TEDS which meant he had no flexibility and lifting him back up by myself was like try to dead-lift a 170 pound frozen tuna.
My Aunt Pat from Indiana offered to stay with my Dad for a week after the funeral so I could go back to work. I needed to get in the office and get caught up. I was trying to get him to be open to coming to Minnesota to visit the clinic and get a second opinion about his care and treatment. I was beside myself trying to get him to understand that being 5 hours away from me wasn't an option given his condition and he had no relatives in the area to help him. My Aunt worked tirelessly to convince him that a week or two at the clinic would do him a world of good and by the time I got back to his house, 8 days later, he was ready to go. We needed to spend a few days in Milwaukee before coming to MN. He had a pulmonologist visit, a cardiology visit and last, a visit to his nephrologist. After that, we were going to head home together.
The week went by very quickly and my Dad was optimistic and in spite of himself, looking forward to coming to our place to stay. I secretly hoped the move would be permanent, but knew his stubborn nature would lead him back to Milwaukee. Our last visit of the week was the nephrologist, which was the doctor managing his kidney condition. My Dad has his blood work done and got the all clear from the doctor to travel. I'd made arrangements to have his medical records released to our medical center. On the way home, we stopped at Target and I ran in to pick up a few things. My Dad stayed in the car.
I was walking down the aisle when my cell phone rang. It was the nephrology physician's assistant calling to tell my Dad's blood work was back and it was really low in potassium and he needed an RX for potassium. She was going to fax it to Target where I could pick it up while I was there. I headed over the the pharmacy. The Target pharmacist is a lovely woman who was close to my parents through their Church. She saw me and came around and gave me a hug. We chatted and she said she'd go check her fax for the prescription. As I stood there, my phone rang again. It was the nephrologist.
In his Indian-accented English, he told me my Dad was in end-stage kidney failure and that he didn't have long to live. I said, how long? He said, days to weeks.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't feel my feet. 14 days before, I'd lost my Mom and now I'm being told my Dad is dying. He said to call tomorrow and he would talk to my Dad about his options, which were very few. Dialysis. Hospice.
The pharmacist saw the expression on my face and came over and I told her what I'd just learned. She gave me a huge hug, which at that moment, kept me from falling on the floor. I had no legs. She said to go home and talk it over with my Dad. She said dialysis wasn't bad, but what she knew of his heart condition, it probably wouldn't be very comfortable for him.
I walked to the car, not having any idea about how I was going to tell my Dad what the doctor just told me. I got in. He looked at me and immediately knew something was wrong. He asked. I said, let's go home first. He said, no. Tell me.
So I told him. He let out a breath. I think he said a prayer and probably a swear word or two. We went home in quiet and I got him into the house, got his coat off and he headed to the bathroom. I headed to the garage and spent the next 5 minutes creating sounds I didn't even know could come from my body. It was as if all the grief and sadness and stress and anger and frustration and rage all flowed up out of this deep pool somewhere and volcanoed out of me in a hysterical fury.
When my Mom was told her treatments were no longer working and she was facing her death, she was resigned, quiet, calm, ready to be done. I don't think she was afraid of death and dying. I think my Mom was such a pessimistic person, who worried about every little detail and possible outcome, that she'd worried herself into her own grave. She knew when she was diagnosed, that she was going to die. My Mom was more afraid of the unknown than the known. My Dad loved life and was not ready for his life to be complete. He hadn't written his final chapter. He was an eternal optimist and hopeful about everything. To see him so incredibly disappointed broke my heart more than anything.
There's another nearly 3 months to this story. He found out on March 23 that his kidneys were shutting down. He lived until June 12 and there's a lot of story in the middle. I remember the many good days in those 3 months. My Dad told me stories of his childhood, of my birth, of my childhood, of our family story. We enjoyed our waning time together, our morning coffee, our afternoon book readings, our evening baseball games.
One of the hospice nurses told me she couldn't believe how strong I was...having gone through the loss of my Mom and caring full time for my Dad. Obligation and love makes one strong, I suppose. Parents do extraordinary heroic things for their children. It's what people do when they love each other. Emotions get put on hold, days blur into nights, daily personal care activities, once unthought-of are done with care and tenderness and no embarrassment. And then the moment comes when they transition from the here and now to that place beyond and the blessing that comes with being there in that moment.
Two days. I'm looking towards the other side of Wednesday.
I never finished my story about my Dad and his health crisis. My Mom was so sick, and so sick so fast that my Dad's illness crept up on delicate little cat-feet and surprised us all.
He ended up in the hospital following Thanksgiving 2010 with congestive heart failure. He'd been (relatively) fine that fall. My Dad had fought a long battle against prostate cancer, going 18 rounds of chemo, several early rounds of radiation, experimental hormone therapies and finally in the summer of 2010, he was approved for the newly released gene therapy Provenge. Coming off that, he felt a renewed sense of hope and optimism about his health. He did have some persistent kidney issues, both a result of childhood kidney cysts and some scarring from his radiation therapy. My Dad was active and vital, working 30+ hours a week, volunteering with their Church, his model airplane club and had recently retired from 30 years of volunteering at my college alma mater. He was not one to sit and let moss grow.
The diagnosis of CHF was a surprise. I'd been home in early October to help do fall yard clean up and he was busy raking, picking up cut brush, hauling stuff to the car, making multiple trips to the dump. He'd sit and rest in between but he never gave any indication of being ill. To come home 7 weeks later for Thanksgiving, to see him curled up in his chair, unable to get up, coughing heavily and seeming really restless and uneasy was alarming. My Mom, halfway through her chemo treatments, seemed healthier than my Dad. By Saturday morning, I was calling 911 and getting him admitted into the Cardiac unit at the big hospital. He eventually spent 3 days in the cardiac intensive care unit (which he loved, bless his heart) and came home with home health assistance. I took my Mom to her chemo appointment and extended my holiday vacation by an additional week to make sure he was home and settled.
We were home again at Christmas and my Mom's health had continued to decline and my Dad wasn't looking any better. He'd been in to see the cardiologist who basically said to stick with a low sodium fluid restricted diet. He was on massive diuretics. He couldn't have some of the standard diagnostic tests or standard CHF treatments due to his kidney functions. He insisted he just needed to rest and he'd be fine. We returned to our home and I called daily to check on them. He ended up needing fluid removed from a lung and he insisted he felt better.
When the call came that my Mom's cancer was no longer responding to treatment, I headed home. I didn't know how long I'd be there, but I packed for a week or so. It was February 19. She began home hospice on Feb. 23 and she was gone on March 9. During this time, she had weekly visits from the hospice nurse who was often more concerned about my Dad. He insisted he felt fine, just tired.
The week following my Mom's death was incredibly stressful. I was hauling my Dad around town making arrangements and trying to keep him afloat. He fell outside the Church before our meeting with the Pastor to plan her funeral. He fell in the garage a few days later after getting out of the car. He fell in the house trying to get to the bathroom. Every single time my heart went to my feet and my stomach wanted to come up through my chest. His legs were swollen and wrapped in TEDS which meant he had no flexibility and lifting him back up by myself was like try to dead-lift a 170 pound frozen tuna.
My Aunt Pat from Indiana offered to stay with my Dad for a week after the funeral so I could go back to work. I needed to get in the office and get caught up. I was trying to get him to be open to coming to Minnesota to visit the clinic and get a second opinion about his care and treatment. I was beside myself trying to get him to understand that being 5 hours away from me wasn't an option given his condition and he had no relatives in the area to help him. My Aunt worked tirelessly to convince him that a week or two at the clinic would do him a world of good and by the time I got back to his house, 8 days later, he was ready to go. We needed to spend a few days in Milwaukee before coming to MN. He had a pulmonologist visit, a cardiology visit and last, a visit to his nephrologist. After that, we were going to head home together.
The week went by very quickly and my Dad was optimistic and in spite of himself, looking forward to coming to our place to stay. I secretly hoped the move would be permanent, but knew his stubborn nature would lead him back to Milwaukee. Our last visit of the week was the nephrologist, which was the doctor managing his kidney condition. My Dad has his blood work done and got the all clear from the doctor to travel. I'd made arrangements to have his medical records released to our medical center. On the way home, we stopped at Target and I ran in to pick up a few things. My Dad stayed in the car.
I was walking down the aisle when my cell phone rang. It was the nephrology physician's assistant calling to tell my Dad's blood work was back and it was really low in potassium and he needed an RX for potassium. She was going to fax it to Target where I could pick it up while I was there. I headed over the the pharmacy. The Target pharmacist is a lovely woman who was close to my parents through their Church. She saw me and came around and gave me a hug. We chatted and she said she'd go check her fax for the prescription. As I stood there, my phone rang again. It was the nephrologist.
In his Indian-accented English, he told me my Dad was in end-stage kidney failure and that he didn't have long to live. I said, how long? He said, days to weeks.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't feel my feet. 14 days before, I'd lost my Mom and now I'm being told my Dad is dying. He said to call tomorrow and he would talk to my Dad about his options, which were very few. Dialysis. Hospice.
The pharmacist saw the expression on my face and came over and I told her what I'd just learned. She gave me a huge hug, which at that moment, kept me from falling on the floor. I had no legs. She said to go home and talk it over with my Dad. She said dialysis wasn't bad, but what she knew of his heart condition, it probably wouldn't be very comfortable for him.
I walked to the car, not having any idea about how I was going to tell my Dad what the doctor just told me. I got in. He looked at me and immediately knew something was wrong. He asked. I said, let's go home first. He said, no. Tell me.
So I told him. He let out a breath. I think he said a prayer and probably a swear word or two. We went home in quiet and I got him into the house, got his coat off and he headed to the bathroom. I headed to the garage and spent the next 5 minutes creating sounds I didn't even know could come from my body. It was as if all the grief and sadness and stress and anger and frustration and rage all flowed up out of this deep pool somewhere and volcanoed out of me in a hysterical fury.
When my Mom was told her treatments were no longer working and she was facing her death, she was resigned, quiet, calm, ready to be done. I don't think she was afraid of death and dying. I think my Mom was such a pessimistic person, who worried about every little detail and possible outcome, that she'd worried herself into her own grave. She knew when she was diagnosed, that she was going to die. My Mom was more afraid of the unknown than the known. My Dad loved life and was not ready for his life to be complete. He hadn't written his final chapter. He was an eternal optimist and hopeful about everything. To see him so incredibly disappointed broke my heart more than anything.
There's another nearly 3 months to this story. He found out on March 23 that his kidneys were shutting down. He lived until June 12 and there's a lot of story in the middle. I remember the many good days in those 3 months. My Dad told me stories of his childhood, of my birth, of my childhood, of our family story. We enjoyed our waning time together, our morning coffee, our afternoon book readings, our evening baseball games.
One of the hospice nurses told me she couldn't believe how strong I was...having gone through the loss of my Mom and caring full time for my Dad. Obligation and love makes one strong, I suppose. Parents do extraordinary heroic things for their children. It's what people do when they love each other. Emotions get put on hold, days blur into nights, daily personal care activities, once unthought-of are done with care and tenderness and no embarrassment. And then the moment comes when they transition from the here and now to that place beyond and the blessing that comes with being there in that moment.
Two days. I'm looking towards the other side of Wednesday.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Procrastination Pork
I know I haven't posted in weeks...but I'm still around. I haven't had much to say, haven't had any great revelations and haven't had too many profound thoughts. I think my brain is waterlogged from all the lousy, crappy, wet, rainy, foggy, cold weather we've had this spring. I have mushrooms and moss growing on my cranium! Maybe I've just been procrastinating until inspiration struck. So far, not so much inspiration.
I did create a new recipe this weekend I wanted to share. It was really tasty and I want to get it committed to "paper" before I forget it.
Spicy Marmalade Glazed Bacon-Wrapped Pork Medallions
2 1# pork tenderloins
Smoked Bacon--you'll need 6-8 strips
2-3 T Olive oil
Kosher Salt
Fresh Cracked Pepper
Garlic Powder
You will need 2-3 long bamboo skewers, soaked in water for 10-15 minutes
Marmalade Glaze
1/2 c. orange marmalade
1 T. Sriracha hot sauce
1/4 t. dried thyme or 1/2 t. fresh thyme
Clean the pork tenderloin by removing the tough silver skin and any visible fat. Plan on 2 medallions per person. Starting at the thick end of the tenderloin, cut medallions 2 1/2 - 3 inches thick. You will not use the tips--freeze those for another use. I ended up with 8 thick medallions. Press the medallions to flatten to match the width of the bacon. Wrap bacon around the outside of each medallion, overlapping the ends a little and then thread three medallions (bacon seams inside so they touch the next medallion) on each skewer. This will make turning them easier and keeps the bacon from flopping off.
Drizzle each side lightly with olive oil and sprinkle one side with kosher salt, fresh cracked pepper and a sprinkle of garlic powder. Set aside and allow to sit at room temperature about 30 minutes to temper the pork.
Prepare your grill--I use charcoal and went for medium direct heat. Clean the grill grates very well so your pork doesn't stick.
In a small bowl combine the marmalade glaze ingredients.
When your grill is ready, put the pork medallion skewers on the grill and cover. Allow to cook 3-5 minutes, then turn one rotation so that the bacon edges are grill-side down. Cover, allow to cook 3-5 minutes. Turn another one rotation so that the opposite flat side is down, cover and cook another 3-5 minutes. Turn one last time so the opposite bacon side is grill-down. Cover and cook another 3-5 minutes. (Depending on your grill, please adjust this. You want your pork to be about 140 degrees at this point.)
After grilling on all four sides, return to the first flat side down and brush half the glaze on your pork and turn it, then brush glaze on the top. Cover and cook another 3-5 minutes, then turn one last time and give it 2 minutes to brown up the glaze. Your final pork temp in the center of the thickest piece should be 155 degrees.
Remove from grill and let rest 5 minutes before serving.
These have a delicious sweet-salty-spicy mix that is a perfect compliment to the very mild pork.
I served these with grilled vegetables; asparagus, red bell pepper, broccoli, zucchini and lightly steamed baby Yukon golds that had all been tossed with olive oil, cracked pepper, a dusting of kosher salt and a light sprinkle of lemon pepper. I have a grill basket, so I put the veggies in the basket, cover it with foil (prevents them from drying out) and grilled them along with the pork. They were perfect!
I did create a new recipe this weekend I wanted to share. It was really tasty and I want to get it committed to "paper" before I forget it.
Spicy Marmalade Glazed Bacon-Wrapped Pork Medallions
2 1# pork tenderloins
Smoked Bacon--you'll need 6-8 strips
2-3 T Olive oil
Kosher Salt
Fresh Cracked Pepper
Garlic Powder
You will need 2-3 long bamboo skewers, soaked in water for 10-15 minutes
Marmalade Glaze
1/2 c. orange marmalade
1 T. Sriracha hot sauce
1/4 t. dried thyme or 1/2 t. fresh thyme
Clean the pork tenderloin by removing the tough silver skin and any visible fat. Plan on 2 medallions per person. Starting at the thick end of the tenderloin, cut medallions 2 1/2 - 3 inches thick. You will not use the tips--freeze those for another use. I ended up with 8 thick medallions. Press the medallions to flatten to match the width of the bacon. Wrap bacon around the outside of each medallion, overlapping the ends a little and then thread three medallions (bacon seams inside so they touch the next medallion) on each skewer. This will make turning them easier and keeps the bacon from flopping off.
Drizzle each side lightly with olive oil and sprinkle one side with kosher salt, fresh cracked pepper and a sprinkle of garlic powder. Set aside and allow to sit at room temperature about 30 minutes to temper the pork.
Prepare your grill--I use charcoal and went for medium direct heat. Clean the grill grates very well so your pork doesn't stick.
In a small bowl combine the marmalade glaze ingredients.
When your grill is ready, put the pork medallion skewers on the grill and cover. Allow to cook 3-5 minutes, then turn one rotation so that the bacon edges are grill-side down. Cover, allow to cook 3-5 minutes. Turn another one rotation so that the opposite flat side is down, cover and cook another 3-5 minutes. Turn one last time so the opposite bacon side is grill-down. Cover and cook another 3-5 minutes. (Depending on your grill, please adjust this. You want your pork to be about 140 degrees at this point.)
After grilling on all four sides, return to the first flat side down and brush half the glaze on your pork and turn it, then brush glaze on the top. Cover and cook another 3-5 minutes, then turn one last time and give it 2 minutes to brown up the glaze. Your final pork temp in the center of the thickest piece should be 155 degrees.
Remove from grill and let rest 5 minutes before serving.
These have a delicious sweet-salty-spicy mix that is a perfect compliment to the very mild pork.
I served these with grilled vegetables; asparagus, red bell pepper, broccoli, zucchini and lightly steamed baby Yukon golds that had all been tossed with olive oil, cracked pepper, a dusting of kosher salt and a light sprinkle of lemon pepper. I have a grill basket, so I put the veggies in the basket, cover it with foil (prevents them from drying out) and grilled them along with the pork. They were perfect!
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