Begging Off Another Family Function

Today was the local “memorial service” for Ben’s uncle from Albuquerque who unexpectedly passed a few months ago. Held at the family homestead in Scottsdale, it was to be an informal affair (no priest, and no formal eulogies unlike when his grandfather passed last year). Ben left early today to pick up food and set up things, and I was going to join him later this morning.

I headed out with every intention of attending. I stopped at Window Coffee to pick up my morning beverage (something that surprisingly I can swallow successfully in small sips) to nurse while I was at the gathering. As I was leaving I got a text from Ben asking me to bring the salad he’d forgotten that was in the refrigerator. I texted back and said I was already on my way but I’d be happy to go back and get it—since I’d also gone off without my watch and felt naked without it.

As I was heading home, he called and told me not to bother. “There’s more food here than we’ll ever eat.” I still needed to get my watch, so I continued home.

Once there, I was [figuratively] attacked by our increasingly-codependent doggos and kept thinking about the “more food here than we’ll ever eat” comment and I grew increasingly despondent. I mean, there was going to be no memorial service and by all accounts it was another family gathering where eating and drinking was front and center where people break off into their little groups and I find myself sitting alone in a corner. After I brought in the mail and grabbed my watch before leaving again, I was confronted with two pairs of big brown eyes all but begging me to stay home, I called Ben. I knew he would be disappointed, but I told him I wasn’t coming—for those exact reasons. Since Christmas Eve dinner had been such a disaster for me, he said he understood completely and didn’t want me feeling uncomfortable in that situation.

[It’s not like I haven’t tried eating; yesterday at lunch I forced a bit of pork burrito down before pureeing the remainder, but I was still regurgitating bits of pork this morning so it obviously didn’t go anywhere. Where it had been hiding out for the last eighteen hours is anyone’s guess. I suggested another swallow study to my therapist last week so we can actually see where this shit is getting stuck and that might facilitate a different approach to the therapy.]

Now you’ll excuse me while I take the contents of my lunchtime mini charcuterie board and throw it in the blender….