Laura Ingalls never had a feeding tube

Honestly, I just wanted to use that as the title because I don't want to forget it.  It sounds like a good chapter title.

A weekend of wonderful people, planning and pain management.  Nancy West flew up from Vegas to be chief distractor and food enforcer.  She was excellent at both of these tasks, in case you ever need to fill this job description.  You would think knowing that you aren't going to be able to take food by mouth anymore (or taste even if you put it in and spit it out) would be a huge motivating factor to eat more.  Sadly, when eating is a lot of work and painful, not so much.  I have been tempted with everything I've asked for, except for crab which is not in season.  Looking for some frozen or something before Tuesday night.  I can get a bit of this or a bit of that down before it is just too much for me.  Tonight Kelly's spinach artichoke dip, brie with pears and pita chips, and pumpkin pie.  Last night pizza and Sweet Life and Settlers of Catan with the thoughtful Laings.  I feel like a princess.  A really poorly dressed princess, who talks like someone just coming off a bender, but a princess nonetheless.

I cannot get the Tylenol capsules down, so we resorted to finding the adult dosage of kids liquid Tylenol. About a shot glass full, ironically.  Grape suspension tastes like an otter pop.  Well, the first drink does.  If you don't get it down fast, the second drink is all acetaminophen, sans grape.  Not tasty.  I though we were going to have to resort to bubble gum flavor this afternoon, but Kelly found some allegedly "adult" liquid Tylenol in cherry flavor.  Hmmm.... the dosage amount is exactly the same as it was with the kids.  Well not exactly the shooters from my college days, but very thankful when it is Tylenol time somewhere.

I have realized that my primary motivation in life is to make other people feel comfortable.  That may seem ridiculous to those of you who have ever heard me shred someone, but it really is true.  I hate for anyone to ever feel left out, awkward, or less than.  I often take other people's happiness as my personal responsibility. Probably not always smart, but there are worse gigs.  So dear Nancy pointed out to me before she left that if anyone could make people comfortable with someone who is scarred up, eats through a tube, and talks with a machine, I could.  That was a very comforting thought.  I really hope she is right.  I'd make a crappy hermit.

So what does all this have to do with Laura Ingalls, my personal heroine?  Stacked on our kitchen table is the fruits of my canning bonanza this summer.  I canned like a crazy woman.  Aura came over and canned. Beth drove up and canned.  We have jams, sauces, salsas, fruits, spreads, syrups, wines, liquors, and dried foods piled up.  None of which I will be able to eat.  Or taste.

I love canning.  I find standing over a boiling pot of jam in the middle of the summer to be fun.  I always make too much because I wonder, "What if I use this spice, or more honey, or less..."  Then you have multiple batches of the same thing.  Guess what everyone is getting for Christmas/Hanukkah?  I still want my family to eat the good healthy food we grow and can.  Am I a good enough sport to do it even though I will not be able to partake?  I think yes, except for maybe Marionberry syrup.  Maybe not that good.

Thank you all for the thoughts, prayers, vibes, gifts, inquiries, offers, and, most of all, the love.  I truly could not do it without you.

"When you are going though Hell, keep going."  Winston Churchill