callmetj's InkSpot
Perpetual Ruminations
#1103006 added December 5, 2025 at 8:26am
Restrictions: None
Restrictions: None
Morning Ramblings
| Yesterday went pretty well after getting some fluids in me via IV. I just warmed up some hotdish for dinner and was able to eat about a cup. It settled all right, but it left me with only half the calories I should be taking in. A couple of hours later, I decided I should eat a healthy snack, so I put some sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, and cashews in a bowl and snack on them while I watched a bit of TV. I did manage to eat them, but it was like my dinner was still filling me up. After, the pain returned to my abdomen, and the acetaminophen did little to help. It did subside a couple of hours later, so I was able to sleep well. Well, until five-thirty this morning when I woke up. I don't know if some sound woke me or what, but I was having a nice dream. I don't remember it now, it faded quickly upon waking. Since I couldn't get back to sleep to finish my dream (you know you've tried it too) I decided to just get up and have coffee. While I waited for the coffee, I ate two Clementines my wife purchased yesterday. I peeled them and was a it surprised that they were difficult to peel. Usually, one can easily remove the skin, or hide, or outer clothing; whatever you call the rind, or peel, or just that orange outside part that's always so bitter when you have to bite it. Anyway, by the time I skinned them varmints, the coffee was done. Do, breakfast consisted of two mini-oranges and a cup of coffee with a teaspoon of honey and a tablespoon of heavy cream. I used to drink my coffee black, but nowadays I need to increase my calorie intake anyway I can. But I don't do sugar well, so I figured I'd try honey, and that does not seem to cause the same problems. I also switched from powdered creamer to real cream, again needing more calories, and figured the cream is a healthier choice. The coffee was good, but the midget oranges were not. They were dry and lacked flavor. It's a bit disappointing how bad fresh produce has gotten over the years. As a child, I remember going with my grandma to buy lugs of fruit. Once home, it was always so delightful to bite into one of the juicy and sweet treats. Of course, Grandma canned up the majority of the lug of fruit, be it peaches or pears, or whatever was in season; she even canned up jars of rhubarb sauce. The produce was fresh, and the only drawback was it had to be in season to find it. Now, with all our advancements in technology, we can have almost any type of produce any time of the year. Unfortunately, it's usually picked prematurely, stored for too long, and then artificially ripened to sell. I do know my residence near the Great White North makes a difference in produce during these cold winter months, but again, with all our advancements, you would think our food would have gotten better, not worse; most produce begins to spoil before we can consume it all. Even the meat from the stores has lost much of its flavor and shrinks down to half its size when cooked. And, instead of having to drain some of the grease from the meat, you have to drain off all the water that cooked out. Thankfully, we have fresh and local beef and pork available to us, locally processed and about the same price as supermarket meats, sometimes even cheaper. For example, I can buy a freshly butchered whole chuck roll (pretty much a deboned front leg of beef) for $5.50 a pound. Out of the chuck we get two or three roasts, six to eight thick cut steaks, and the rest is cut into stew meat, beef strips, and the scraps are saved for our dogs. It seems I've rambled on for a bit now, a nice indicator that I'm feeling better this morning. I'm not feeling good, but I'm not feeling as poorly as I have been. It seems I'm slowly starting to recover. My doctor informed me yesterday that, after six months of intense chemotherapy, there is a lot of damage to my entire body; it's going to take several months to heal. |
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About The Author
My writing doesn't follow any set genre, it's interdependent of my mood and all that's taking place in life. I'm still finding myself, what I write constitutes the markers along the path of that journey. With time, many things will manifest in my work and perhaps I will pursue one or two genres. For now, it's not, "What type of writing is my passion?"
"Writing is my passion."
