baking and coping

It's been a very long couple of days.

Last night, I was in the middle of cooking dinner while my mom was on the phone. We were having gyros, and I was just browning the rest of the meat in the pan. My mom was on the phone with my grandmother, who we'd dropped off at the hospital a bit earlier for what everyone assumed to be kidney stones. I wasn't really paying attention until I heard my mom's tone change. She waved me over and started writing in the notebook she was using for schoolwork. I suddenly got the strangest feeling and really didn't want to see what she was trying to tell me. I think in a really odd way I probably knew, so I finally just looked down.

"She has pancreatic cancer."

Since then, everything has felt sort of like a dream. Both of my brothers reacted very strongly when we told them. I was the one who called Jack up at college, since my mom had her hands full telling everyone else. I just listened while he started crying and answered his questions in the best way I could at the time. I'm wondering why I didn't really feel anything aside from a very brief sense of dread. I think I decided not to accept it, then I just went back to cooking dinner. 

That's just what I've been doing ever since. Cooking might actually be all I'm good for in a time of crisis. 

I feel very tired. I don't know why. I haven't really done anything to be tired from. 

Today, we were given a little bit more information. It looks like stage four, but the doctor thinks there could be success with treatment. My grandmother sounds really good, and I'm going to be seeing her tomorrow night. Actually, it was sort of funny, because I've been practicing baking new things lately, and before she left for the hospital she hadn't gotten to eat anything. When I told her about what I was making, she complained that she'd be missing out but to save some for her. Unfortunately, because she ended up staying longer than we thought she would, she didn't get to try any of the food. Last night, I tried making donuts for the first time with considerable success. My mom saved one and brought it to my grandma at the hospital where she works this morning. Later, I got a message from my grandma with a picture of her happily eating the donut. Apparently, she wasn't supposed to eat it and some of the tests they were supposed to do got delayed as a result, but she was completely pleased with herself about it and said she didn't regret it at all. 

That's basically my grandmother in a nutshell. 

I love her very much and I'm not ready to lose her just yet, so we're all going to fight this together. 

And we'll fuel her efforts with plenty of these. I guess she actually really enjoys donuts. I had no idea, because I've never seen her eat one. 

These turned out really nice the second time around. The secret is cake flour, which I was surprised about. I had always heard that you could use all-purpose for anything and that "specialized" flour was a way of making more money off the same product. Actually, I would never go back to all-purpose for donuts. I'm actually thinking of trying some of my other recipes, like those scones, with cake flour to see if it makes a difference. This batch was so springy and fluffy, I couldn't wait to tell someone about it.

Now, grandma can have some of the good cake-flour donuts, since they should be all finished with her tests by the time we go visit. I think she'll enjoy them much more than the ones from yesterday, which were made of white and whole wheat flour. They tasted fine, but the consistency was way too dense for them to feel like real donuts. Cake flour is where it's at, you guys.

I think this is my way of coping. It's not conventional, but at least it's sort of cheering everyone up since there's always food around. We'll see what happens next. I'm hoping very badly for some good news in the next few days.

I want my grandmother around to eat donuts and scones with me for awhile longer. That's not too much to ask, I don't think.