I was reading Patrick's post on how Thanksgiving has marked so many changes in his family, and it really struck a chord. It was two years ago just before Thanksgiving that I wheeled BR into San Francisco's Davies ER with a neurogenic bladder. That stay, and the subsequent bout with sepsis lasted almost a month.
Then last year, BR had an abscess in his mouth caused by tori. His bite hasn't been the same since they were removed, making mealtimes an extended event.
This year, a sacral insufficiency fracture heralded the holidays. Talk about ouch on ouch.
Yet still, we are in the kitchen making our favorite Thanksgiving foods. BR is on the phone getting the recipe for cornbread stuffing from his Mama. (You didn't really think those White Castles would last until Thanksgiving, did you?) I've made the broccoli cheese casserole. The turkey is thawed and ready for the morning roast. Add green beans stir-fried in bacon fat, roasted pecans, and brown-and-serve rolls, and we have everything to make Thanksgiving special. Except family.
No matter where you are. No matter what you are doing. No matter how you feel about yourself. You are loved and missed.