Seven weeks from now, my son Kevin and I shall be in Boston; he to run the oldest marathon in the world, me to offer support. Seven weeks is also the length that my radiation sessions took.
Between now and Boston, I am reclaiming my pre-cancer diagnosis routine (the one from last September) as much as possible. This means not having little c in the back of my mind all the time and not allowing myself to eat anything that isn’t nailed down. Both will be difficult.
The truth is that my life will never be without little c from now on. But the emphasis will be on the little and not the c. As for returning to my old diet – the one where I counted calories and watched the scale – that will be harder. I loved all those second helpings of mac and cheese, garlic bread, and French fries.
But I tried on a pair of summer slacks this morning and determined they were too snug. So my new goal isn’t really about weight as much as it is about fitting into those same slacks before Boston. If I accomplish this, then the rest of my summer wardrobe is good too. It’s almost a financial challenge as well as a nutritional one, because who wants to spend money for slacks in a larger size ever?
Tonight I’m making a “healthy” grocery list and purchasing the ingredients tomorrow. I’ve read that working one’s way around the perimeter of a super market lends itself to better nutrition, because that’s where the fruit, vegetables, fresh meats, dairy products, and booze live. Items with preservatives or high fructose corn syrup or other nasty additives live on the inside aisles.
Seven weeks to Boston seem like a reasonable amount of time to salvage a wardrobe. I hope it’s a lucky seven, just as I hope the seven weeks of radiation were lucky too.