Curveballs

I'm starting to think that maybe I should skip over the month of February. Last year, ironically on Valentine's Day, we spent the afternoon at Children's Hospital and learned that a bump on our daughter's arm might just be sarcoma. A bump she had had for seven years following a run-in with a faulty tree branch; a run-in that resulted in a broken arm. A bump that various doctors assured us was scar tissue. A bump that naggingly hung around, causing pain from time to time. A bump we finally decided to diagnose with an MRI. That's when we learned that life can turn on a dime. For one scary twenty-four hour period of time, we contemplated what this diagnosis would mean. We left the day-to-day world of school, work, chores, activities, etc., and turned inward. Life had been awfully kind to us on the whole. Maybe it was our turn to deal with a curveball. I thought about all those parents who, in times like this, hold steady for the sake of their child. I was not this kind of a parent.  As outwardly stalwart as I willed myself to be, the tears just kept flowing because this was, afterall, my child. How could I not be upset? As clear as the memory is of that first meeting with the surgeon, so too is our follow-up meeting the next day after he finished the biopsy. With great relief and a big hug, he told us this was not sarcoma but instead a hemangioma, a fancy word for a pile of blood vessels. This is a bump she will probably live with for the rest of her life -- a small sacrific to say the least. Lucky for us, we received the best Valentine's gift ever, just one day late.

Over the weekend my stepmom called to tell me she had advanced stage liver cancer. Her life just turned on a dime, too, but her diagnosis is quite different. Her cancer is very aggressive and will probably afford her just a few more months. She has known that this diagnosis was possible, perhaps even probable. Back in the early eighties she developed Hepatitis C  from a blood transfusion she received while recovering from a bleeding ulcer. She has lived with the disease ever since, regularly having her liver checked, and continually surprising her doctors with the health of her liver. Until now. Even with her health history, and knowing that she has led a very full life, this still feels like quite a curveball.

When Pat entered my life at the age of twelve, I cannot say I was exactly thrilled. I was still trying to accept that my parents were divorced and secretly held out hope that they would eventually reconcile. But when my dad announced that he and Pat were going to get married, that hope died. The problem was that I liked Pat, but for a long time I just wanted my old life more. We all adjusted over time, but I don't think I really began to appreciate her until I became an adult. She patiently put up with my coolness towards her, knowing that eventually I would come 'round. Pat never had her own children, but she has always been wonderful with my own. Last year my son spent the year corresponding every month with her for a school project. Embarrassingly, I learned things about Pat that I thought I should have known all along. If only I hadn't been so stubborn and had thought to inquire. Her letters to my son were full of interesting antidotes, such as the time she unknowingly befriended the children of Pablo Picasso on a beach in southern France. The famous artist eventually introduced himself and invited her to his studio the following day. Pat has had many unique experiences. For my son it was an interesting look at a different generation; for me, the letters and  photos she sent (including the picture of her on the scooter) are mementos to cherish of someone I truly love.

Needless to say, mixing drinks has not been on my mind much recently. Comfort food, it seems, is in order. Several weeks ago my friend Meg's husband put together a wonderful soup with kale, sausage, and potatoes. The following day, I was happy to find a similar recipe in Sunset magazine. Here is my adaptation:

Kale and Chorizo Soup

3/4 lb. chorizo, thinly sliced
1 T olive oil
1/2 onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 t each of red chile flakes and pepper (you can cut down on this if you use spicy chorizo)
8 cups reduced-sodium chicken brother
2 russet potatos, peeled and chopped
3/4 lb. kale, stems removed, leaves cut into slender ribbons
salt to taste
parmesan cheese for topping

Heat olive oil in a soup pot over medium heat and cook the chorizo, stirring often, until browned. Transfer to a paper towel.
Add the onion to the leftover oil and fat. Saute for 3 to 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic, chile flakes, and pepper and cook for about a minute. Add broth and potatoes, cover, raise heat back up to medium-high, and bring to a boil. Then reduce heat and simmer until the potatoes are tender, about 5 to 7 minutes.
Stir in the kale and chorizo and continue to simmer until the kale is tender. Season with salt.
Serve with parmesan cheese as a topping.
Perfect for a cold February night. Certain to warm the cockles of your loved ones' hearts!