February 2016, Thornton-Cleveleys
“Pull up a chair. Take a taste. Come join us. Life is so endlessly delicious.”
Ruth Reichl
The hardest part for me was to end the juice fast.
Are you bonkers? Yes I probably am.
It was Sunday.
I made a roast dinner for all of us.
I served their dinners and then brought my green juice to the table. It was as if I had placed a knife to my throat.
A sea of shocked faces.
"You can't just have that, mum!"
"Don't you think it's time you ate something?"
I tried to reassure them it's full of nutrients.
None were happy and the next thing Mike returned from the kitchen with a plate with oatcakes and hummus for me.
Surely the juice was more nutritious? Was it the absence of a plate that caused a ripple of unease around the table? Social mores.
In that moment I realised I had lost a lot of weight after 8 consecutive days of green juices. Perhaps it was that that had caused the ripple of concern?
At this point, my goddaughter Alex called round. She wears her heart on her sleeve. There was a look of shock on her face.
"You're looking really skinny Auntie Doo!"
Others nodded some pursed their lips in silent agreement. She was unwittingly the spokesman for the group. It made me smile.
I don't want to lose any more weight. It doesn't feel like my body. I've always been a chubster. However, I'm having difficulty eating. Not in an anorexic way. I'm simply highly anxious in a foods-that-cancer-doesn't-like-way. I'm worried that I might slip up and help this lump to grow.
That night I cried a lot in my partner's strong protective arms. He said he'd care for me forever. I felt safe. So much warm love between us.
I realised that I hadn't really cried since my diagnosis three weeks earlier. I'd had a couple of very brief outbursts but had swallowed them before they broke the floodgates.
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