When you a part of a very large family, you expect, regretfully, that death will visit. Of my father’s huge family, he has two sisters and a sister-in-law who remain alive out of 41 (including spouses of siblings). I’ve been to a lot of wakes and funerals of aunts and uncles over the years…. The aunt I refer to on this blog, who I care for, is the last sister-in-law in that line of my father’s family. I cared for her husband, my favorite Uncle Charlie, through the winter of his life until his death. He and I were very close.

My cousin called to tell me that another uncle, the husband of one of my father’s sisters, died after a long illness on Sunday.

My uncle’s death is sad, but was not unexpected. I’m just wondering where my grief is? I wasn’t all that close to him, but wasn’t estranged. We just did not see much of each other. My uncle had his hands full when I was growing up. Read on.

I’m sorry my uncle died, and feel badly for his family. He and his wife had four kids. One of their children, a daughter, died about 15 years ago at an early age. His two youngest children still live at home. Both have severe developmental disabilities, and act and operate at a significantly reduced mental capacity. The situation is so sad. Their parents knew that they had opposite Rh factors and that children, especially after the first or second, were very much at risk for being born with developmental disabilities.

But “La Famiglia” and the Catholic Church, … I won’t say more.

My aunt, the wife of my uncle who died, remains hospitalized for her own major, chronic health issues, and may die soon. She is not able to take care of herself, nor her children. The whole situation is very sad.

I don’t know what will happen to my aunt and uncle’s developmentally disabled children (adults in their 50s now). The one remaining “normal” daughter doesn’t want to care for them. Who will?

The family is working on it. Plans are being made, but I’m not sure quite what they are. I don’t communicate as often with the ultra-Catholic branch of the family tree. They sorta shunned me since I live in sin — being gay, having a partner, and all that.

Anyway, life moves on. The family prevails. We’ll hang together, albeit uncomfortably. Such is life in a huge family — and you thought my direct family was large. My Dad’s was larger. Well, regretfully, it is time to update the family tree, of which I am the keeper.

Life is short: show those you love that you love them, each and every day.

For years and years and years I have said that I don’t want a Blackberry. I don’t “need” one. I avoided them. I made fun of yuppies addicted to them.

Then I got promoted and one of those pesky things came with the job.

So I brought it home this weekend and after some struggle, got it set up. I though that perhaps it would be neat to be able to read my personal email on it, too. So I followed the directions to bring email from this blog and my website (my “booteman.com” email) to the device.

Well, it doesn’t work. But what’s worse, it deleted ALL of the email on my server. It is sending any new email somewhere… I can’t find where… and thus, I’ve been sabotaged by the very device that I have ridiculed for ages. Hmmm, turn-about is fair play.

Anyway, if you have sent me an email since Friday, Feb. 14, I have not received it, can’t find it, and wonder if I can get it back. I have to wait until the office opens on Tuesday (today is a holiday) so I can go crawling to my I.T. staff to beg for help.

Gotta love it — I deserve that thing’s revenge on me.

One of the ongoing challenges of having had major surgery (kidney, gall bladder, appendix) is the residual, long-term effects on how my body responds to food.

I feel sad and anxious when family or friends invite me to join them for dinner, and ask casually, “is there anything you don’t like?” I know they’re trying to be nice, and also reflect the fact that most people can eat most anything, but perhaps have a few things they don’t like. For example, my partner eats just about anything, but would prefer that I don’t serve creamed spinach or liver.

For me, I wish it were that easy. My list of what I can’t eat far exceeds the list of what I can. And while there are some foods that I don’t like — such as creamed spinach or liver — my list of “can’ts” really is that. If I eat certain foods like corn (any style), then I get really sick. Add to that reactions to certain naturally-found chemicals in foods, such as alkyloids, carotenoids, or salylicilates, and I am in trouble. Unfortunately, a lot of foods have these chemicals in them, including most vegetables and spices. Speaking of spices: don’t! Arrrgh! Mexican, Indian, or Thai foods and chili are not my friends! I once loved beans, but… instead of making me gassy as they do most people, they cause severe intestinal distress. Then add to that my one major food allergy: mustard. Put even a few drops of mustard into a salad dressing, and don’t tell me about it, and if I eat it, within a half-hour, anaphylaxis sets in. (I stop breathing. Then a trip to the hospital is in order.)

The problem is that I once had a well-balanced, varied diet. Then I had all these surgeries. When I recovered, I began to eat foods again that I had always liked and had eaten. At first the foods that didn’t agree with me just made me uncomfortable. I liked how they tasted, so when I noticed at first that I was in discomfort after eating some foods, I would just take less next time. But then the problem got worse, and as I continued to react to these foods, I developed a mild case of colitis — an inflamation of the colon. The colitis has become a permanent condition.

Doctors are baffled. Each and every one I have seen about my condition, including internists and dieticians with PhDs and all sorts of specialty degrees, have told me that they have never encountered anyone who reacts to food the way I do. At least I have some medical evidence to affirm that I am not just being “picky” when I decline to eat certain foods.

I live with this all the time. Now whenever I accidentally eat something I shouldn’t, the next day, I’m in really bad shape. What’s worse, I don’t know immediately that I ate something that I should not have eaten. I will feel fine for about 18 hours after consuming something I should not… then I have to be within running distance to … (well, you get it).

Once again I sigh deeply because tonight my niece is hosting our regular family dinner. She is a superb cook. She will be cooking a great meal, I guarantee it. She has quite a knack in the kitchen to create “masterpiece meals.” My family always raves about her cooking. And when I go, I enjoy the camaraderie with my family, the jokes, the stories, the debate, … and just sit there and sip water. My niece, bless her, has tried in the past to make “plain” foods for me, but she eventually gave up. It was too much trouble to make something separate for me and something elaborate for everyone else. I don’t blame her.

Next week, my brother wants me to attend a soup-tasting dinner with his church group. I would love to go, to be with my brother, and to meet his friends. He sent me the menu on the dinner invitation. Ugggh… it looks great, but there is nary a thing on the menu that I can manage to tolerate. I mean, I can eat it and I probably would like it… then the next day, well… I will be in “prime reaction mode.” And that won’t work because I’ll be on an airplane that day. Nothing is worse than having gastric distress and diarrhea on an airplane.

Oh fiddle-faddle. I hate having to live this way, but it’s just a chronic condition that I have to live with. That is why I do all the cooking in our household, so I can control what is prepared, how it is prepared, the ingredients, and how it is served.

Ugggh… just an insight into how I have to live. It’s not easy.

Life is short: wear your boots, and if you can eat what you like, then count your blessings. Buon appetito!