The Last Supper

Hi Darling Ones,

I’m about 45 minutes away from the last supper. That’s what I’m calling tonight’s meal. Starting at 11:45 p.m. I’m on a clear liquid diet until my colonoscopy Tuesday afternoon.

“THAT HASN’T HAPPENED YET?” EM shouted at me over the phone yesterday.
‘No,” I said. “I’ve just been talking about it since I made the appointment in June.”

I’ve been talking about this procedure for three months because I’m kinda worried I have the butt cancer.

  1. I know colon cancer is not the same as anal cancer.
  2. I know both of those cancers are serious and kill people.
  3. I know the word “butt” is funny enough to make “butt cancer” sound hilarious.
  4. I know with 100% certainty if my uterine biopsy had turned up malignant results I would have diagnosed myself with “coochie cancer.”
  5. I know you will let me have my silly defense mechanisms without sending a nastygram about how I deserve colon cancer.

Back to the last supper. My last supper (’til Tuesday) is gonna be leftover El Toro’s Mexican. It’s not a bad way to go. I love their food. I’ve been feeding off the chicken & chorizo burrito + beef & bean nachos (split with Sister #4) since we ordered it on Friday.

This is a testament to El Toro’s portions and also my diabetes’ dislike of rice and tortillas. My blood sugar is not a fan. If it doesn’t get too out of control, there will be a peanut butter dipper cookie for dessert. Or I’ll just say so long to solid food with my nightly peanut butter sandwich, on white bread, like a damn child.

I’m supposed to be on a low-fiber diet that does not include nuts, seeds, or raw fruit and vegetables. Until October, when Soup Season officially begins, this is 92% of my diet. My usual peanut butter sandwich is on 12-grain bread chock full of nuts and seeds. Mmmmm tasty nuts & seeds.

If this were an actual, factual last supper, I’d do it right. Meatloaf, baked potato with butter and sour cream, a bowl of peas, and some kind of hot fudge peanut butter brownie sundae concoction. I’ve given this a lot of thought lately, and every time I went meatloaf. I’m poor white trash through and through.

The dinner bell is ringing, Darling Ones.

Wish me luck,

P.S. I’m only $1066 from my fundraising goal! Can you believe that? How rad would it be to meet the goal by Tuesday afternoon? THE RADDEST!

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