Simon wasn’t a morning person, but in an hour or so, he’d drag himself out of bed, zombie-walk down the stairs, and chow down on whatever I’d left him. He could make his own breakfast, but it was no trouble for me to pop another “extra hearty” frozen waffle that was supposedly made with “real” ingredients onto the tray next to mine. Was it the healthiest breakfast? No, but it wasn’t Eggos and didn’t have any icing or chocolate chips on it, so I counted that as a win. Plus, the waffles were fortified with extra iron, and clearly my blood couldn’t get enough of that stuff considering I flirted with anemia every time my period decided to kick in the door and set fire to the premises.
“Morning, Dad,” I said as I reached the bottom of the stairs, pausing a moment to catch my breath. I wasn’t panting, but there was a slight tightness in my chest warning me I needed topause a bit. So, pause I did. If there was one thing I had learned in my decade since being diagnosed, it was that listening to my body was key—even though people would tell me I was stupid for doing so.
I knew it wasn’t malicious. I knew it was simply because a lot of people didn’tgetwhat chronic illness was like. Modern medicine had come so far that folks didn’t realize that asthma, diabetes, Graves’ disease, and even the flu could be lethal, so all the extra steps sick people took felt a bit excessive to them. Sometimes we spoonies—a term often used online—came across as being whiny or dramatic, but I wished people could walk a mile in my shoes. Maybe then, they’d understand what life was like for someone living with a chronic illness.
“Gonna heat up some waffles,” I said cheerily despite my somewhat grim musings. “You want one?”
“Oh sure, I wouldn’t mind that,” Dad said from his chair right by the window that looked out onto the front lawn and the chrysanthemum bushes and hostas my mother had planted so long ago. None of us really had the spare time or energy to garden, but they came back every year. A simple thing, but it was like a kiss on the cheek from her memory that I cherished, especially in the first throes of spring when the air was just beginning to warm, and the cool breeze had no problem carrying the lighter scents of cold-hardy blooms.
We weren’t quite there yet, with winter fading but holding on to the last vestiges of its power with a stubbornness that only a long, cold,wetseason could have, but I wasn’t particularly in a rush. After all, we were headed into the midterm evaluations, and I was dreading how it stressed out my students. I tried to mitigate it, I really did, but there would be a certain level of anxiety no matter what—even with my students being as young as they were.
I couldn’t imagine how high-school teachers did it. My kids were first graders, and I still felt quite guilty for making them jump through academic hoops that didn’t really serve them, just tested how well they memorized data.
But the flaws with the school system wouldn’t be solved before I had breakfast, so I grabbed the waffles, popped four in, then set the timer.
One frozen waffle wasn’t enough calories if I wanted to regain the weight I’d dropped, so I got one of the awful, high-calorie protein bars that bodybuilders used when they were trying to gain weight, or when high-school mean girls tried to sabotage another’s waistline. They always left a weird texture in my mouth, but I hadn’t lost another pound since I’d started eating them every other day, so beggars couldn’t be choosers. If only my diet hadn’t burnt me out on Ensure when I was first diagnosed. I still choked them down, of course, but it wasn’t an enjoyable experience. A solid year of hyperthyroidism plus intense nausea had left me with three things I could ingest: water, Goldfish crackers, and Ensure. That was it.
Not exactly an enlightening time for me, gastronomically, so unfortunately the calorie-laden meal supplement was forever tied to some pretty awful memories. Unless it was a life-or-death situation, I wasn’t going to swallow down that thick beverage ever again.
I knew quite a few people who would raise an eyebrow at my spread of a frozen waffle with some berries on it. I didn’t use syrup or whipped cream because I wasn’t big on sweet stuff, and I didn’t understand when it became okay to eat dessert first thing in the morning. It wasn’t great for my blood sugar or my skin, and I preferred salty anyway.
Not that I went about advertising that. Some people had very strong feelings about their desserts. And honestly, if a little extra sugar in their life made them happy, then I was all for it. Theworld was a hard enough place as it was, so I didn’t look down on people for finding joy wherever they could as long as it wasn’t hurting themselves or others.
“Waffles are ready, Dad,” I said as I finished prepping my waffle and munched on my much less appetizing protein bar. Thankfully, I finished it in a few bites and could actually enjoy the rest of my breakfast.
My father joined me when I was about halfway through, so naturally I finished before him and put my plate in the dishwasher before kissing him on the cheek.
“Are you headed right off to school?”
“No, I’m headed to Grandma Mack’s with some of the lasagna we made last night, remember?”
“Ah yes, yes, I forgot about that. Tell her I said hello.”
“Of course. Hopefully, now that it’s warming up, she’ll be able to visit a bit more.”
“It would be nice. It’s easy for us old folks to become hermits, ya know? Sometimes I think if it weren’t for you and your brother, I wouldn’t talk to anyone in person for a couple of weeks at a time.”
“Good thing you’re stuck with us,” I said, ruffling his thick, gray hair. I wished I’d inherited that gene from him. Who knew, maybe I had, but my illness had sabotaged it. Not something I really needed to be focusing on.
“Good thing indeed.”
The smile he sent me reminded me that while things were rough, I wassoincredibly lucky. Despite all the struggles and all the loss in my life, there was still so much love, a roof over my head, and enough food in my fridge to share.
That wasn’t half bad at all.
With my morning routine pretty much finished, I grabbed the Tupperware container I’d prepped the night before and headed out the door to walk a whopping three houses down toGrandma Mack’s place. Even though it was a short jaunt, I got a bit winded as I went up her steps. I’d have to make sure I took a lot of time to sit at work.
I was nearly to the top of the fourth step to the porch when the door opened, revealing the smaller, elderly woman I’d known pretty much my whole life.
“I thought I saw you from my window!” she crowed, the corners of her eyes wrinkling. “What’d you bring me this time?”
“Just some leftover lasagna.”
“Ooh, child, you know that always tastes better the next day. Same as alfredo.”
I nodded, smiling and feeling quite proud of myself. There were a lot of things I couldn’t do in life, but Icouldfeed people tasty food that made them happy. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“I don’t understand how you cook so good but still keep so skinny-mini. Don’t you eat what you make?”
