This all started about three weeks ago. There have been a few bumps along the way, like when I forgot that quiche is made mostly of milk and cheese, until I was halfway through eating it. (Yes, I finished it!) Then I tried my favorite salad bar near my office, only this time with just a little cheese and something other than blue cheese dressing. By the next time I came back, I was off cheese altogether.
I had to keep reminding myself of how much this could mean to me. Could this change reverse my cancer? At the very least, could it mean that I could stay on the same treatment for even longer than I would otherwise, without any cancer growth? Maybe I would feel the loss, but I would need to find enough advantages to avoid needing grief counseling.
Three weeks out, I may be imagining it, but it feels like I’m breathing a little easier. I may also be imagining that I have a little more energy in the evenings. I’m kind-of-almost-eager to get my next CT scan to see if there is any shrinkage of the cancer, while also checking to see if my cholesterol is going down.
I have always thought that vegans may be healthy, but they would probably die of boredom. This is a challenge for me, since I have zero creativity with food. Fortunately for me, Genevieve didn’t skip a beat.
What an amazing woman! I don’t know if there has ever been another cancer survivor who has had the kind of support that I have had from Genevieve. Not a word of complaint. She just cooked up something that didn’t have any dairy in it. I bought almond milk to put in my cereal and protein shakes (the protein powder has whey protein, but no casein), and we moved on. We had a few meal-planning discussions, and within a few days we made a trip to Powell’s Books to get a few vegan cookbooks.
I can’t say that this is going to be easy, and I’m not going to be perfect. For instance, I’m not going to give up baked goods because there is some butter or milk in them. But that will be a trace amount of dairy compared to a gallon of milk and at least a half-gallon of ice cream every week, which add up to 52 gallons of milk and 26 gallons of ice cream a year. Now, if my CT scan shows that the cancer is shrinking, I would be willing to get that radical.
In the meantime, if you see me walking around looking lustfully at somebody’s hot mocha or Frappuccino, try to cut me a little slack. I’m still in mourning.