I Dreamt of Sausage

Contents

Body

Mind

Spirit

Thank you

AKCMcD. AMD. BC. Bethanator. BNP. CC. Chiquita. HI. Hillhouse. JAT. KJM. KW. Les. Lizalu. Mags. MW. Norf. PHA. SP. SR. SU. SW. Team Jo member Jo. The Zcob. UMHS.

a lot

This would not have been possible without you.

Journal

In Media Res (extended)

The night I ate macrobiotic apple pie, I dreamt of sausage. I stood amidst booths at a fair, surrounded by people wearing shiny aprons glowing with grease stains. I looked at the big sausage in my hand and breathed deeply. The Italian sausage lay with onions, peppers, and chilies - surrounded by a toasted bun. I took a bite. The grease coated my mouth, heated my tongue. I groaned with happiness. I knew I was not supposed to be eating the warm, meaty sausage, but I couldn’t help myself. I woke up feeling satiated and full – guilty and confused.

We made the pie from a macrobiotic cookbook. The recipe seemed harmless enough: whole-wheat pastry flour, barley malt (for sweetness), corn oil, and apples. The crust was cardboard. The fruit alone was tasty, probably embarrassed to be surrounded by such a mockery of flaky crusts. Perhaps the apples were themselves dreaming of sugar, lard, cinnamon.

It is March, and I am undergoing chemotherapy for Hodgkin’s lymphoma. I want to feel as though I am being proactive and taking ownership. Not feeling I am simply along for the chemotherapy ride and hoping it will never come back, and I will live to the ripe age of 100 by accident. Thus, the macrobiotic apple pie.

About two weeks ago I went to my pre-infusion meeting with my oncologist, six out of my twelve treatments behind me. I was over the hump and looking forward to finishing my life as a patient. The tumors were shrinking on the CT scans. I felt emboldened to ask my oncologist the 400 million dollar question.

So when I finish this protocol, do I sit around waiting for the cancer to come back?

The kind young doctor looked at me with a smile. No, go out there and live your life and forget about it.

Later, as I received my infusion, I sat in the acrylic la-z-boy and pondered what she meant.

Go, live your life and forget about it, what a nice idea. What a shortsighted, annoying response.

What do I want to do with my life? I have been a waitress, I have been a teacher, and then I got married and moved to the freaking Midwest with George’s job. This small town has few opportunities for an overeducated English Major without a network. Yes, I am currently working in the corporate world because I want to wear power suits. But still, my whole plan to get pregnant has been derailed by all of this craziness.

I sat there and got more and more unhappy about not knowing what I want from life. Capital L freaking Life! The doctor upped the ante from my 400 million dollar question and retaliated with Life capital L!!

I knew talking to George about Life was not going to be helpful, so I talked about Life with Dr. Roth, my holistic doctor. Dr. Roth recommended I attack my diet first and we would continue to chip away at the Life question.

Yesterday, my father asked me for a simple way to think of Macrobiotics. My response was It is Vegan on crack.

I mean, Dad, lymph nodes are the part of the body designed to flush out toxins. Given that I am attacking the lymphatic garbage men, perhaps I should put in less food garbage?

This was why I dreamt of sausage and cheese, and wow – fried eggs on hamburgers with sautéed mushrooms and bacon. French fries with mayonnaise, Fourme d’Ambert omelet with spinach and truffle oil, and even just hot chocolate from a vending machine – frothy, warm, and too sweet.

Ooooh, and my mother’s steak au poivre – the butter and fullness of the brandy anchoring the bite and citrus overtones of the pepper. The sauce so delicious you want to lick the plate and bathe in it.

This whole story, in fact, started with steak au poivre.

Body

Emma’s Birthday

I am with my family, 500 miles away from George. It is my first Christmas as a wife. George is working at the hospital.

My beautiful sister had the unfortunate luck to be born right after Christmas. The indulgences of our holiday meal are barely digested before our family launches into another gastronomical trek three days later. Emma’s birthday dinner of rabbit and crème brulee is warm and soft in my belly as I fall asleep listening to city buses.

I am sleeping in a twin bed in the guest room. The orangeade glow of the city streetlights floods the ceiling of the white room.

Pain jerks me awake, confused and curious. I gasp as a shooting pain from under my right breast courses through my body, a clenching sharp pain persists for a few seconds, relaxes, and then starts up again. I look down at my chest, orange in the reflected light.

From lying on my side, I shift onto my back. The pain is still intense. I sit up. I pull the comforter up over my shoulders and wait for it to recede.

After 20 minutes of pain, at midnight I call George.

Hello? His sleepy voice is low and gravelly.

I am in pain. My breath comes in gasps.

His voice shifts into terse, worried, and professional. Where?

Tucked under my ribs on the right side, it’s really bad. I don’t know what’s going on. I start to cry.

Sharp pain, dull pain?

Yes. Sure. Both. Either.

You think you have a fever? Have you vomited?

No, no – it really hurts. It comes in waves. What’s going on?

Well, right where you’re saying it hurts is your gallbladder. But if you had ruptured your gallbladder you would be vomiting or you would have a fever.

What does your gallbladder do?

George continues in his doctor explaining voice. It holds bile your liver makes until there’s a lot of fat in your stomach. At that point the gallbladder pumps the bile into your duodenum to aid with digestion. Sometimes the gallbladder can be filled with gallstones and one can get stuck. Or stones in the gallbladder make it painful when the gallbladder retracts.

What’s your duodenum?

The upper part of your small intestine. Did’ya eat a lot of fatty stuff today?

You mean besides Mom’s leftover steak au poivre for breakfast or the crème brulee for dessert? I smile as I recount my food day.

I’m jealous. I’ve eaten hospital food all day.

The pain punches me. What should I do? It isn’t going away.

Take some muscle relaxants and they should help. And call me if it gets worse. Are you sure you don’t think you have a fever?

No just pain, lots and lots of pain. Are you sure it’s the gallbladder?

I don’t know, but that’s what it sounds like. The gallbladder is located in that area under your right rib.

Okay, I’m gonna take some medicine. I’ll call if something happens. I love you.

Alright, I love you. I hope that it goes away soon.

Me too.

Bye.

Bye.

I hobble to the bathroom cabinet. I am bent over and goosepimply, standing straight exacerbates the pain. Three Advil later, I lurch downstairs. I put a movie on in the living room, turning the volume low for the sleeping house.

The next morning, I describe the nocturnal peregrinations to my family. My mother’s standard bun accentuates her high cheekbones. My father leans on the counter eating his sausage, his short fingers cutting slices of the stubby meat. Emma stirs her cup of coffee, still in her flannel pajamas – she looks young and soft in the early morning light.

I’m sorry if I’m yawning today. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. All are silent, listening. I woke up with a weird pain under my right ribs. George thinks it’s my gallbladder. So when I get home I’ll do a gallbladder cleanse.

Dad looks at me, confused, Gallbladder cleanse?

Yes, I read about them years ago. I never told you about the one I did last year? Blank faces answer the question. You drink apple juice for a few days to soften up your bile and then the day of the cleanse you drink Epsom Salts with grapefruit juice and you avoid eating fat.

Sounds delicious. My sister, Emma, giggles.

I laugh with her. Hold on. I haven’t even gotten to the fun part. After you drink all of this salt you drink a big glass of olive oil and lie on your right side. It’s supposed to shock your gallbladder into opening the biliary ducts (because you haven’t eaten fat all day) and pumping out the stones that you have softened by drinking the apple juice.

Emma leans in, her expression captivated. What happens to the stones?

Well, they end up floating on the toilet the next morning.

Wow – that is SO cool! What do they look like?

Green, fluorescent green, black, sometimes a mix of the two. You can see pictures of them online.

How big are they? Emma continues.

About the size of a penny or bigger.

Okay, okay – that’s enough. Dad rumbles across the two of us. I am still eating.

Emma runs around the counter and launches herself into my arms. Her head reaches the top of my nose and my arms fit easily on top of her slight shoulders. I love you.

I squeeze her tight.

Cleansing Process Begins

Back in our cold winter bedroom, I curl on my right side next to George and pull a wool hat down over my ears. I can taste the olive oil and freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. I send thoughts to my gallbladder.

Flush out those stones. I have woken up in pain for five nights. Get rid of this problem.

I fall asleep shivering in the darkness of our bedroom.

Nausea wakes me up. I run to the bathroom and kneel down in front of the toilet. George calls from the bedroom. You okay?

Don’t know.

The next morning I re-examine the Internet drawing board and re-read the proverbial wisdom.

After reading, I start a parasite cleanse. I take a concoction of Black Walnut Hulls in pills and drops three times a day – fifteen minutes before eating. Within a week, the pain stops.

Dinner with a First Year Surgical Resident[1]

During our first six months of marriage I tried different approaches to see George. He was out of the door in his scrubs by 6 am most mornings. Dinner was a juggling act.

I learned not to trust when he would call me at 6:30 pm to say he would be home by 7. One night I waited until 8 pm. I was hungry: the food sat solidifying on the stove.

Scanning a book on the couch, I heard the key turn in the door. Corinna?

The book snapped shut. Where have you been? I’m starving! You told me you’d be home an hour ago! I’ve been waiting for you!

George looked at me, I’m sorry. I got called back as I was walking to the parking lot – and then I couldn’t call you because I’ve been signing out my patients to the person on call tonight.

Fine, whatever, let’s eat.

After three nights I stopped waiting.

My second approach to maintain normalcy was to bring George dinner on the nights he spent in the hospital. I lined the bottom of the car floor with wooden cutting boards and put the pans from the stove on them directly. We sat in the parking lot behind the hospital and talked about our days. For the first two months, before I started my own jobs, I did not miss a night.

One August night, I called my mother as I prepared risotto. Hi Mom!

Hi dearest, what’re you doing?

I’m making dinner for George to eat in the parking lot.

I can’t believe that you are doing this, don’t they have food in the hospital?

Well – not really, after the cafeteria closes at 7 there’s only fast-food and also, if I don’t do this then I won’t have seen him all day. I’ve spent all day working in the garden and you’re the first person I’ve spoken to. My voice broke as I started to cry.

Oh Corinna, there have got to be resources for you as a new wife married to a doctor. Aren’t there groups you can join?

I grabbed a paper towel to blow my nose and wipe my eyes. Yes, there’s one, I hear all they do is talk about their kids.

Well, it might be a good place for you to start.

Mom, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what job I want. I don’t know how to meet people. George is exhausted all of the time. Last weekend he and I planned to walk into town for dinner. I go upstairs to grab shoes. I come down and he has fallen asleep on the couch! I was gone for two minutes!

Oh dearest, I’m so sorry.

His job is completely barbaric, and I don’t know how to talk to him about it. Every time I say anything he tells me he feels like I’m blaming him for dragging me here. It’s horrible. I also don’t feel like I’m being a good wife complaining about this to my mother. I should be able to work this out with him, but it’s impossible to talk to him when he’s not exhausted and cranky.

My cell phone rang. It was the hospital number. Mom, I’ve gotta go. George is calling me to tell me when I can meet him.

Okay, I love you.

Love you too. Flipping open my cell phone, I took a deep breath to steady my voice. Hello, George?

Hi Babe, I think I can escape in about fifteen minutes.

Great! I can get there in about twenty! Hope you’re hungry.

Thank you so much, I’m really looking forward to seeing you. I’ve had a horrible day.

Well, I’ve a treat for dessert, so that might make things better.

Wow, you’re the best, I’ll see you soon. Love you.

Love you.

I walked to the bathroom, washed my face, and turned back to the stove.

The nights George spent the overnight in the hospital he would be home in the morning and not have to return to work till the following morning. So after his nap that next morning, I asked him out on a date. Babe, I think we should have a date. I’d a conversation with Mom last night and I would rather be talking to you about our marriage than talking to Mom about our marriage.

Okay, that makes sense to me. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he walked to the closet to get dressed.

We walked to our local restaurant, sat down, and ordered. George looked at me as he sipped his water. What would ya like to talk about?

I’d like to talk about how horrible your job is.

Corinna, we’ve been over this. There’s nothing I can do about it.

There’s gotta be something you can do about it. Don’t you have a union? How can they pay you so little money and have you work so many hours? How do they expect people to have a life?

Talking about it doesn’t help the situation. We have six years and then things will get better.

What am I supposed to do for six years while you are working 80-90 hours a week? I don’t know anyone. My family is far away. It’s really hard for me here.

Do you realize what you make me feel like when you say that? I’m trying the best I can. Things will get better when you’ve a job. Have you heard back from anyone?

Yes, I have an interview at both the deli and for the other job.

Well, there you go.

Yes, but how does that help me with what I want to do with my life?

I don’t know, I can’t answer that question for you.

I know you can’t. The waiter placed our food onto the table. Well, anyway, it is nice to see you! Let’s eat.

My third choice was to be so busy working that I would not miss eating dinner with him, which was what I did. By August I had found two paid jobs and one volunteering job to fill my time.

Girltalk

It was November. Raven’s number popped up on the phone. Hello?

Happy Birthday!! 29 years young! La La! Her cheerful voice sang out.

I giggled, Thanks! How is your new job going? Using all of the good things you learned in med school?

Some parts – otherwise it is very different from what I expected. Sirens wailed in the background.

I can hear the city behind you. Are your windows open?

Nope, I turned the heat on last week. The building is…well, never mind, what have you been up to?

I have been moving into the house, painting, gardening, working two jobs and volunteering because George is busy all of the time. All while trying not to go insane living in this small town. Life is great.

Raven’s low laugh bubbled up. Come on, it can’t be that bad.

I’m used to architecture. The only beautiful buildings are the ones belonging to the university, which if you sneeze you might miss as you walk through town. Also it is impossible not to have a car. It is flat flat flat – there are no hills anywhere around. It’s November and cold, dark, gray. It never got properly warm enough during the summer, either. I paused. I really miss being near family and old friends.

Have you done any exploring to see what is around you?

Nope, George is busy all of the time. I don’t want to go exploring on my own, that doesn’t sound like fun at all. I stretched my legs onto the couch. Do you remember in high school when we’d go to New York for the weekend and you’d tease me that I got such a kick out of just walking around?

Of course I do!

Oh Raven, I miss that! I miss the energy. The pulse, the movement, the choices of a city! There are two main drags here. That’s it. Two. I looked out the window to the power lines running behind our house. I don’t know what I am doing and my husband is barely there – George is so tired most of the time. It feels as though I moved here all by myself except that I’m married. Does that make sense?

I guess so. Do you like your jobs?

Yes, but I’m almost 30, I feel I should be figuring out an adult job. The corporate ladder, earning big bucks to justify my overpriced education, all that jazz.

Well, you could go back to school, right?

I smiled as I wiggled my toes underneath a blanket. In fact, that is what I’ve been thinking about. I’m good at school and we are going to be stuck in this town for the next five and a half years anyway – I might as well get a degree out of it. Give me more options in the big world, make more money, all of that good stuff.

Raven interrupted. Which school?

Well, the university has this unique program. It’s is a joint degree between the business school and the school of environmental sciences. It is one of two universities in the country to offer it. I’ve been talking to the coordinator and she thinks I could apply for next fall if I gear up to take the GMAT in the next two months. My next step is to contact alums from the program and ask them about it. I’ll probably do it after the holiday craziness.

Well, what about getting a teaching degree? You enjoyed being a teacher didn’t you?

Yes, but, I wanna try something else and earn real money. I want to live well, travel, and be the breadwinner in my own right.

Raven paused on the phone.

She is about to ask me something that she thinks will upset me.

Does it bother you that George is going to earn real money when he’s finished with residency?

"No, it doesn’t bother me. Well, maybe a little. It does feel like I ended up in Leave it to Beaver without any warning."

It’s a very gendered division of labor.

Exactly, that’s exactly my point. I’m the little wife picking up his socks as he passes out on the couch. What year are we in anyway?

Are you really picking up his socks? Raven’s voice sounded disgusted.

Well, if I don’t do it, it won’t get done. So yes. Welcome to my suburban housewife life from hell, I gazed out the window at the orange leaves, did I mention I live within a four mile radius of not one, but two Targets, Lowes, Home Depots. I’m in big box land.

Raven laughed, My god, that sounds horrific.

Yes, and well… never mind.

What? What’s going on?

George is not the same person I married when he’s tired. I can’t help but feel angry at him for being here – I’m hoping I didn’t make a mistake.

What do you mean?

Well, I really feel that I’m stuck in this town because of a job that has turned the person I married into a shadow of who he is. We’re not in a relationship that is feeding me. It is, as I said, suburban housewife hell.

Are you thinking divorce? Raven’s voice sounded quiet and strong.

I don’t like to think about it. I do know this. I miss my friends and family. I miss you. I hate being so far away from everyone. I’m really lonely.

Business Analyst

In January, free from pain, after my post Christmas gallbladder cleanse, I start contacting alums of the joint degree program. One of them works in town as a developer for a company overseeing landfill gas capture. For the first time in my life I wear a suit to a corporate office for an interview.

We sit at a board table.

Thank you so much for your time to meet with me today. I’ve been figuring out whether I want to go back to school. So I’ve been meeting people to talk about their school experiences.

Not at all, I’m always interested to meet smart people interested in green jobs.

Good for me sending the email from my college alumni account.

The bald pate of the developer shines in the overhead lights as he leans toward me over the table. "My question to you is this. Why do you want to go to business school if you don’t have any experience in big business?"

That is an excellent question. I look at him and smile.

Hmmm, do you have a resume?

Yes, I do. My voice shakes with excitement.

He glances at it, Well, we have been looking for someone for a Business Analyst position, let me talk to my colleagues.

Okay, thank you, that sounds great. I float out of the building. Sitting in my car in the parking lot, I leave a message for George on his phone. Hey! I just left my meeting and he asked for my resume! I’m so glad I sent my request to meet him from my college email account, nothing like flashing the name of a swanky school to get you in the door. I can’t even think straight! What if they hire me? It’s a corporate job in a green field, how amazing is that? Okay, hopefully we can talk about this tonight. Love you, bye.

Journal

Power Suits

The energy company hires me and I continue to work at a deli on the weekends.

Crocuses bloom as I walk into town. It has finally warmed up to the extent that I don’t have to wear gloves as I walk. I can type easily on my new Blackberry.

The most exciting thing about working is the clothing – I love shopping for my power suit look. Pearls in the ears, stockings on, sweater sets, black Ann Taylor trousers, it all works. This town is so damn small - when a group of us go out for lunch – it is inevitable there will be at least a few tables of people from the company in the same restaurant. (I don’t know why people insist on wearing their magnetic building passes attached to their belts – perhaps in case they get lost, they want to be returned to the right building?)

I am trying to talk George into having a May Party for the house to celebrate Spring. I have been so ready for warmth and sunshine – need to celebrate.

When I walk home some days from work I can smell the students toking up, to celebrate their end of the school day; that cracks me up.

Easter Weekend and Pain

Three weeks into my new job my sleep is interrupted. The forgotten pain is vocal after such a long silence. The pain pulls in my right upper quadrant – pain of gargantuan, impossible to ignore proportions.

Friday night.

Saturday night.

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.

Wednesday I make an appointment with my primary doctor.

Thursday night.

Friday night I fly to the East Coast to be with my family for Easter.

Saturday night I sit at the kitchen counter and explain to my epicurean family that I am not drinking wine.

Oooohhhh Mom – Corinna is not drinking, maybe there is something she needs to tell us! My cousin looks excited and full of the young female conspiracy, her second child resting on her hip.

Sorry guys, not pregnant. I have a weird pain. George and I think it is the liver or the gallbladder and alcohol is not so good for the liver. I’m meeting the doctor next week. I think they’ll sign me up for an ultrasound to figure out what it could be.

My uncle offers me two Percoset in case I wake up in the middle of the night in pain. True to form, at 3 am, I am jerked awake. Gasping I