Do I Dare to Eat a Peach?

Anyone who survived AP English with Mr. Andersen in 1987 should recognize the title of this post as a line from T.S. Eliot’s poem, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”.  I will readily admit that the piece baffled me in high school, and I’m no closer now to understanding this stream of consciousness “masterpiece” of modern poetry.  Today, there is no symbolism to uncover or metaphor to interpret; unlike Eliot, I ask myself this question in a strictly literal manner. 

The answer to the question is a resounding NO!  I do not dare eat a peach or any other fruit for that matter for fear of the pain it will cause when it passes through my lower digestive tract.  The radiation proctitis and prolapsed hemorrhoid I wrote about a few weeks ago have not yet released me from their grip.  I still am, in the words of my niece, a “fire butt”, and I’m afraid I will remain so for at least a few more weeks.

Therefore, fruit is out of the question.  My doctor recommended a “low residue” diet to help minimize the “discomfort”, as he calls it.  I did a little research to figure out what the heck “low residue” meant.  Simply put, residue is any food, including fiber, which remains undigested in the large intestine.  In other words, residue = poop.  I suppose doctors prefer to use this euphemism because it sounds more clinical.  I can’t imagine any doctor recommending a “low poop” diet.

Most low residue foods are highly refined, processed carbohydrates. They are easy for the digestive system to break down and absorb; therefore, they leave less residue behind. While I understand the need for such a plan of eating, I am finding it very difficult. I have spent the last 3 ½ years eliminating refined and processed foods from both my diet and that of my family.  Until a few weeks ago, you’d could not find refined bread, pasta, rice, or grain in my house.  Now, it’s just about all I can tolerate, even though it goes against everything I believe about nutrition.

Even the kids are confused.  When Gehrig saw me putting Rice Krispies and white flour bagels in the grocery cart, he looked at me with concern and said, “Mom, we don’t eat that food; it’s not healthy.”  It wasn’t easy to explain to my 5-year old that Mommy has to eat unhealthy food because she is sick.  Even a child can recognize how counterintuitive this all seems. (Though, both kids are enjoying the Rice Krispies.)

The most difficult part of this for me has been the elimination of fresh fruits and vegetables.  It’s summer; the time of year that I love to frequent my farm stand and enjoy the bounty of local produce.  This year I cannot.  I long for a ripe peach or nectarine, crave a fresh crisp salad with juicy ripe tomatoes, and pine for the flavor of sweet summer corn.  This whole experience would have been much easier to handle in February.

I have one more week of therapy left.  With a little luck, in the 6-8 weeks between the end of radiation and my surgery I will heal enough to enjoy some of the summer season’s delicious gifts. If not, there’s always next year.