Food for Beaming

The Beamer is just home after spending 10 days in hospital. He had Toxic Shock Syndrome that was caused by an infection that started in his leg. It was very scary. Initially the Beamer was intubated and sedated in the Intensive Care Unit. The Hubby and I spent 6 long days of worry standing by his bed watching him lie there. Occasionally he would crack open his unfocused and morphine-glazed eyes and it would cause a stir amongst us. Many of our family and friends stood with us and we would all stare at his silent sedated body.

My cousin Terry brought us almonds she glazed herself. She brought us brownies. She brought us Banana-Date Muffins that were healthy with bran, dates, raisins, and cranberries. And we felt a little better.

I was always cold in the hospital. The air conditioning was cranked way up. A sweater was always necessary. But lying still in his ICU bed with nurses and numerous other medical people tending to him, the Beamer was always uncovered. So we fussed with his blanket. It became our reason for being there. I once explained to one of his nurses that the blanket was such a big deal because it was the only thing we could control. When she later found out I was a social worker she said "I thought so". Apparently the blanket = control remark was the giveaway.

Sabina brought goodies baked by her very thoughtful daughter Adriana. Biscotti with Cranberries, Pistachios, and Cornmeal and Banana Bread that her mom used to make for Friday afternoon tea. We felt a little warmer.

Scarlett and the Adolescent keeping the Beamer company while he sleeps

I was barely hungry for those 10 days. But my sister and brother-in-law discovered a French patisserie right next to Scarlett's daycare. I was surprised at how easily I could devour too-many-to-count almond croissants, apple danishes, almond brioche, pain au chocolat, fruit tarts. Once, the Hubby, in a sleep-deprived haze, protested that we couldn't possibly continue to eat all these rich decadent pastries. The next time they brought tamari roasted almonds. We were bereft. Why did you listen to me?! the Hubby wailed. Thankfully they never listened again. We were comforted.

No longer sedated but very sleepy. Recuperation takes a lot of energy.

The Daughter and the Adolescent were there every day for hours at a time. Having them there was a huge comfort. The Adolescent played music for his brother. One ear bud in the Adolescent's ear and the other in the Beamer's ear. The Adolescent played him gangsta rap, reggae, soft pop, rock. It was determined that the Beamer preferred Bob Marley.

The Daughter agreed to stay home one night to supervise her brother who was having some friends over since the Hubby and I were at the hospital. Her payment was fiercely negotiated. She settled for One Shoe from a pair that she coveted.

Maureen brought us her celebrated Chocolate Chip Cookies. Her daughter Meredith made the dough, eating a good portion of it along the way. What was left was baked and gave a bit of comfort to many in the hospital waiting room that day. These are the best chocolate chip cookies I have ever tasted. One bite of a cookie and I was right back to Friday afternoon teas when the kids were little. Although we didn't experience it as such at the time, it seems now that everything was more innocent and carefree then. Eating those cookies made me a little happier.

Beaming resumes

Finally the Beamer began beaming once again. What a horrible time when the lights were dim. Deep appreciation for our family and friends who just know so well how to make us feel better. Calls, visits, and messages of concern and support. And, as always, plenty of baked goods.

It's All About The Butt Butter

I just spent the weekend with 5 Guys. I've had a glimpse into the Dark side. It's a strange and wild world. I've been told that what happens on the Ride stays on the Ride. But they never said anything about the Blog...!

Waiting to begin. The Hubby and the Beamer see us off.

Me and the Guys and thousands of others cycled 200km from Toronto to Niagara Falls to raise a total of $17.5 Million for the Ride to Conquer Cancer. I surely hope this amazing gift from 4600 riders, 800 volunteers, and all the wonderful people who made donations and gave encouragement creates a significant dent in cancer's unrelenting impact on our lives.

Me and Colin

We gather at 7:30am on Saturday under threatening skies. Thousands of riders wearing the official yellow Ride jersey. All with the single focus to make true on our pledge to ride the distance. It's an awesome sight. The opening ceremonies remind us why we're doing what we're doing. The entire route is filled with riders. There are all shapes of bikes, all shapes of Riders. There are Survivors riding with yellow flags on their bikes. There are tributes to loved ones attached to jerseys.

We gather at camp on the first night to share adventures. There are many jokes about Butt Butter. Have you ever heard men giggle?

Geoff, Mike, Bruce, and me just into camp after finishing the first 100km!

We leave early Sunday morning for the second 100km. It's harder this day. Many well intentioned well wishers tell us "it's all downhill from here" usually just seconds before we hit yet another uphill. Even the slightest incline is felt. Butt Butter has stopped providing its protective powers. The shoulders ache. The quads are burning.

Our last pit stop and there are only 18km to go. The Guys come up with something that only guys could come up with. I can tell you without a doubt that no woman I know would ever think of this. The Guys decide that the 6 of us should ride single file, each one of us drafting behind the one in front. According to manly wisdom the guy in the lead breaks the wind for the others behind. It's extremely dangerous. To get the full benefit you need to ride inches from the rider in front of you. I ask: "What if we get into an accident?". The Guys guffaw in unison. So we do it. I, the girly wimp, stay in back but it's fun to watch the Guys yell insults at each other while working cooperatively to switch positions at 30km/hr.

Colin, Geoff, Bruce, Jon, me, Mike

As a team we look awesome. Whizzing along at high speed in our Highly Identifiable matching team uniforms, passing all the Slow Pokes. Then one of the Guys, who shall not be named (by Manly decree), gets a flat. We all pull over to the side of the road. Now we are 1 Woman laughing and 5 Guys in Highly Identifiable Uniforms trying to figure out how-does-the-mechanic-do-this-anyway? while the smug Slow Pokes whiz by yelling offers of help (but they're definitely snickering inside!).

Karma sucks.

How many Guys does it take to change a flat bike tire?

As we finally near the finish line the crowds of cheering supporters lining the route get thicker and thicker. My Supporters are there too. Cheering me on, giving me strength, reinforcing the pride I feel in my accomplishment and in what we all did together.

Brother-in-law Richard and Scarlett with me at Finish Line

 The Hubby is there. My sister is there...

My Sis and me

The Daughter is there...

Matthew (Colin's son), Julia (Geoff's daughter), the Boyfriend, and the Daughter waiting at the Finish Line

Jennifer's memory is there too.

How do people do the lifting of the bike over the head thing?? I must have weak arms.

I'm recruiting team members for next year. The Hubby will do it. More women would be a good response to all the testosterone. And I'll ensure plenty of Butt Butter for all.