It's been a few days since my wife Tanya took off for a workshop in San Diego. The night before she left she was like the Iron Chef, making dishes in the crockpot and in the oven to be frozen and thawed at the proper time. She made three dishes, afraid I won't eat properly while she's gone. She's worried that my eight-pound weight loss would continue if left on my own.
I tried to tell her not to worry -- for her to take the time away as a caretaker's respite. In addition, there was some leftover spaghetti I had made. So I feel I've got plenty of food, so much so that there will most likely be left over when Tanya returns.
I also had planned to make manicotti and tuna casserole while she was gone. Tanya doesn't like either dish, so the only time I make it is when she's not going to be home for dinner, which isn't very often.
She also had our network of friends checking up on me to make sure I don't sleep too much and that I'm eating. The last time something like that happened I caught pneumonia and was hospitalized at M.D. Anderson Hospital in Houston, resulting in an 11-day stay instead of the three we were supposed to take. I really don't want to do that again -- ever.
So I'll eat when I'm supposed to; nap within reason and when Tanya comes home, she'll be happy that I didn't screw up.