Humble Pie

Continuing on the theme of emotional issues, on reflection, I have had a lot to deal with this week.

The onset of some serious pain on Monday and Tuesday night was not something that I particularly want to occur on a regular basis though thankfully I retired last night both without pain and without taking pain killers.

On a more relevant note the major event this week is the realisation that I cannot eat "properly" anymore.  Kitten has stocked up on some easy to eat foodstuffs - yesterday I sat down to very small pasta shells in a heavy carbonara sauce, which was manageable.  The downside is that it is not just a matter of restriction but that eating or drinking anything is now quite a painful experience, due to the side effects of the radiotherapy.

I can cope with that but I don't like my children to see me wincing with pain when I am eating.  It is now obvious to them that I am struggling at meal times and they are used to a father who takes the lead at the dinner table, always eating his food and usually the first to finish (though I don't hold the latter as a merit).

These are things that we will have to adjust to as a family but I don't think that any father relishes the prospect of showing signs of weakness to his children.

On a brighter note, humility has been a theme that has popped up a few times on my blog and I guess that I no longer need to be hostage to it.  What do I base this on?  Well in the early 90's Big G and I went to watch Ireland vs Wales in Dublin.  At the time both teams were poor and they were playing to avoid the "wooden spoon".  We were staying with Big G's parents and I arrogantly proclaimed that we would beat the Irish comfortably.  I was wrong.

When I got home Big G's dad served me a whole pie, which he described as a "humble pie" and it was served with a big wooden spoon to eat it with.  Even though I was uncomfortable with Wales' loss I was still very appreciative of the humour and was happy to take my medicine.

If anyone was to pull the same stunt now though, I would simply shrug my shoulders, lift my eyebrow and say

"Sorry, but I can't eat it".