Fish Stuff

I’m absolutely crazy about the young man with the horseshoe-shaped scar on the side of his head.  I love that guy.

Yesterday I took dinner to his family, my “fish stuff” (wilted spinach and poached cod slathered in sauce made with coconut milk and goat feta).  His mom texted me: “N is in ‘food coma’ – he thinks he has never eaten so much.  The fish is a hit!”  

My young friend always praises my atypical contributions - we're in this healthy diet together.  For me, preparing food is about more than just offering practical help.  Supporting him in this way is a matter of investing in his life and the lives of his parents - supplying what seems to be my best at the moment, for their best. This is especially poignant when a life hangs in the balance.

A month has passed since his brain surgery.  The remaining inoperable portion of aggressive malignancy has not shown signs of growth, which is phenomenal.  Miraculous.

In the last few days this courageous guy has received helpful counsel from various reputable sources, including a brain cancer specialist.  His emerging treatment plan includes alternative therapies (among them continued careful nutrition and aggressive supplementation), as well as radiation and chemo that begin next Monday.

I want so much for him: health and strength and life.  And yet all I can do is feed him. Although some might not understand this, it a great gift to me to be able to do something.  So much better to offer myself through edible gifts (even "fish stuff") than just sit idly by, passively waiting for destiny.