Giving Thanks for the Creamed Onions

I met her nearly thirty years ago: a older woman with a thick Bostonian accent. Opinionated. Forthright. Not afraid to share her thoughts. That’s the way it was. It was, after all, her house.

We met at the small wooden kitchen table that used the wall-hung telephone as its centerpiece and pierced the air with the loudest ring I’d ever heard. (I later learned her husband had been an infantryman in the Korean war who had heard his share of mortars.)

She had fixed dinner for the family – all of whom were arriving to meet her daughter’s new boyfriend: a small salad, ham, yellow mustard, mashed potatoes, and creamed onions.

The latter, I was to discover, was her personal favorite. Any gathering of family importance had them; the small iridescent pearls of tiny onions resting on cream-based sauce carefully created from a flour roux and can of the pearly whites. If it weren’t for her enthusiasm, I probably could have passed on them, but as it was, I had no choice but to place them on my plate. That’s the way she was.

A few Thanksgivings ago I sat with her, her eyes more sunken, her temples more defined. Her legs were thinner than I had remembered them just months before, and her voice was softer. Her graciousness, however, remained. She arrived bundled in her nicest jacket, her gait assisted by a quad cane and her husband’s gentle lift only a day after being discharged from the hospital. She smiled at the cacophony that greeted her. Folding chairs were pushed aside. She was led to a prime location to supervise the kitchen, a more stable chair arranged. The matriarch had arrived.

She saw that her son’s house was as hers had been this time of year: abuzz with activity and controlled chaos. Within the hustle and the bustle of meal preparation and family photos, came a phone call. Her daughter answered. Amongst the chatter a recipe was mentioned. It seems her granddaughter, unable to attend the local meal, had called to share a tradition involving small onions in her home. I saw the tiniest of smiles rise from her lips. For a brief moment the tumor didn’t matter, her pain forgotten as the recipe was recited.

Before long the meal materialized. Turkey, oyster stuffing, potatoes, green bean casserole, and there, hidden in the corner hidden in a warming dish, her creamed onions. More food than could ever be consumed. As we all waited our turn, her husband made her plate with tiny flecks of turkey, a strand or two of green bean, a half teaspoon of sweet and mashed potatoes, and a single creamed onion.

Her husband said the grace. “Bless us, o’ Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive…” I stared at our plates and then at hers. The tiny onion, there alone. Her eyes closed and soft hands folded. I wondered what she was thinking. What does one think at their last Thanksgiving? I hated myself for wondering.

Really, it didn’t matter. It was about the here and now that mattered. “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans,” my wife still reminds me. And sure enough, despite a week and a half of food intolerance and dehydration, she ate it all.

Even the creamed onion.

And for that, we were all incredibly grateful.

-Wes

P.S.  Here's wishing each of you the Happiest of Thanksgivings. 

Something to Be Thankful For

I was sent an e-mail from Amy Tenderich of the well-respected Diabetes Mine blog asking for contributions for this Thanksgiving’s edition of Grand Rounds. I sat with this a while and really struggled to find a topic. “It would be nice to creative writing,” I thought.

So I sat and stared at the computer.

Nothing.

I sat some more.

Still nothing.

It was complete and utter writers’ block. Then I remembered a similar time many, many years ago:

"... but I don’t know what to write.”

“What is it you’re trying to say?”

“That I want to get into medical school. That I like biomedical engineering. That I like people and kids and migrating monarch butterflies and music and art and all kinds of stuff! How the heck am I supposed to write something that makes sense of all this? How does one write something that will get you into medical school, for goodness sakes! This stinks!”

“Just write. It’ll come together,” she said as she returned to the afternoon’s dishes.

After I calmed down, I took out a fresh piece of paper and wrote. I wrote mountains of disjointed sentences without a central core. A stared at the page, dissatisfied. I wrote some more. Somewhere in the back of my might hid a thought, an overarching theme that failed to materialize despite my best attempts. I kept writing and writing as if somehow, some way, I’d force it out of me. Finally, out of frustration, I brought my work back to her.

“Here’s what I’ve got so far.”

“Wonderful!”

She sat and read what I had written. Occasional smiles would appear from her lips, then a look of confusion. I knew it wasn’t great since science and math were my thing at the time, not writing. She read the entire mess, start to finish, then stared up from the page, looked upward and contemplated her next move. Her radiant eyes turned toward me and pierced my stubborn façade. “You’ve got good stuff here, but I don’t get how it makes you feel. It’s too disjointed. Don’t you mean to say…?”

And we were off. I watched a master at work. She had a remarkable knack for diction and the written word. She reveled at the chance to add a verb, an adjective, a noun that changed the ordinary into the extraordinary. She’d stop and ask, “So then what?” and I’d explain. Red arrows would link concepts and ideas; a roadmap to clarity formed before my eyes. “You need to expand on this,” she’d say. Then I would return to my thoughts, frustrated at how hard this was to complete. Would it ever make any sense? But as I sat and thought some more I realized that she was right, not so much about the topic, but about the process.

Think. Write.

Don’t think. Write.

Then write some more. Be willing to toss aside the perfect stand-alone nuggets of writing that make things too verbose and distract from your message. Keep those that clarify and sharpen it. Then process the thoughts and re-work them until the final composition develops to something larger than what you had anticipated.

Like an acceptance letter to medical school.

And before you know it, you’re not just a doctor, you’re a writer, too.

Happy Thanksgiving, Mom. (And sorry about all my typos.)

-Wes

A Photo Documentary: Apple Turkeys

From our house to yours, a tradition for the kids' plates on Thanksgiving: apple turkeys!









Happy Thanksgiving!

-Wes

For Travelers This Holiday Season

Courtesy of Saturday Night Live.

-Wes

For Thanksgiving: Fat Wars

It seems the Washington Post, cloaked under an anonymous author, wants to use scare tactics to keep most of us from enjoying Thanksgiving with their ominously-titled article, "And for Dessert, A Heart Attack?" They spew all kinds of garbage about how eating a high fat diet might give you a heart attack with very little data.

If you want to know more, consider this reference from some pretty smart folks at Harvard.

Then eat, drink, and be merry without guilt (courtesy of Dr. Wes).

Happy Thanksgiving!

-Wes

Reference: Renata M and Mozaffarian D. "Saturated Fat and Cardiometabolic Risk Factors, Coronary Heart Disease, Stroke, and Diabetes: a Fresh Look at the Evidence," Lipids 31 Mar 2010.

Plenty to Be Thankful For

It's from an old post, but it's worth repeating:

I am thankful for the teenagers who are complaining about doing chores -- that means they are home and safe.

... for homework. It means we live in a country where education is valued and encouraged for all.

... for the taxes I pay; it means I have income.

... for the mess that I have to clean up after parties, because it means I am surrounded by friends.

... for the clothes that fit a little 'too snug' because it means I have enough to eat.

... for the lawn to mow, windows to wash and gutters to clean; it means I have a home.

... for the parking spot I found at the far end of the parking lot, because it means I am capable of walking and am blessed with transportation.

... for my huge heating bill, because it means I am warm.

... for the person behind me in church that sings off key, because it means I can hear.

... for the pile of laundry and ironing, because it means I have clothes to wear.

... for all the complaining I hear about the government; it means we have freedom of speech.

... for the alarm that goes off early in the morning because it means that I am alive!- Author unknown

And for those who can access Facebook at work (we can't), this week's Grand Rounds full of thanks is being held at Amanda Brown, DVM's Facebook page.

Happy Thanksgiving!

-Wes

Putting the "Happy" in Thanksgiving

Who said hospitals can't have fun? Provident St. Vincent Medical Center, Oregon shows us how as they support breast cancer awareness:



Only one question: where were the adminstators?

Happy Thanksgiving!

-Wes

Some Thoughts for Thanksgiving

I thought I'd share this list that was published on this blog before:

I am thankful for the teenagers who are complaining about doing chores -- that means they are home and safe.

... for homework. It means we live in a country where education is valued and encouraged for all.

... for the taxes I pay; it means I have income.

... for the mess that I have to clean up after parties, because it means I am surrounded by friends.

... for the clothes that fit a little 'too snug' because it means I have enough to eat.

... for the lawn to mow, windows to wash and gutters to clean; it means I have a home.

... for the parking spot I found at the far end of the parking lot, because it means I am capable of walking and am blessed with transportation.

... for my huge heating bill, because it means I am warm.

... for the person behind me in church that sings off key, because it means I can hear.

... for the pile of laundry and ironing, because it means I have clothes to wear.

... for all the complaining I hear about the government; it means we have freedom of speech.

... for the alarm that goes off early in the morning because it means that I am alive!

Author unknown

And one other thought: be sure to visit Paul F. Levy's blog, Running a Hospital, to learn about the Engage With Grace program to how you can engage in a conversation with your loved ones about their (and your) end of life wishes.

Now, especially, is a good time to reflect on what we can do for others.

-Wes

Things to Be Thankful For

I found this on our refrigerator:

I am thankful for the teenagers who are complaining about doing chores -- that means they are home and safe.

... for homework. It means we live in a country where education is valued and encouraged for all.

... for the taxes I pay; it means I have income.

... for the mess that I have to clean up after parties, because it means I am surrounded by friends.

... for the clothes that fit a little 'too snug' because it means I have enough to eat.

... for the lawn to mow, windows to wash and gutters to clean; it means I have a home.

... for the parking spot I found at the far end of the parking lot, because it means I am capable of walking and am blessed with transportation.

... for my huge heating bill, because it means I am warm.

... for the person behind me in church that sings off key, because it means I can hear.

... for the pile of laundry and ironing, because it means I have clothes to wear.

... for all the complaining I hear about the government; it means we have freedom of speech.

... for the alarm that goes off early in the morning because it means that I am alive!
Author unknown

For those leaving early to be with family or friends:

Happy Thanksgiving.

-Wes