Eat Like You Were Dying

There's that country song about living like you're dying. You know the one, where the guy goes sky-diving and bull riding and watches an eagle flying around. He says, "I hope someday you get the chance to live like you were dying."

Well, for one, lots of times once you're *actually* predicted to die in a nearby time frame you feel too cruddy to do things like "go 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu." Honestly I think I feel too cruddy to do that even on days when I'm feeling *great.* I can't say that even after 5 years of cancer I have the desire to climb on a bull's back and see how long it takes him to try to kill me.

It's also tough to live like you're dying when you don't immediately die. Sure everyone would love to quit their job and go take part in some fun activity (or maybe just take a nap). But even on disability there are still (lots) of bills to pay, and laundry to be done, and (in my case) a 12 year old to raise. So I guess everyday life gets in the way of "living like you're dying" life.

I have realized, however, during times I feel especially bad I tend to *eat* like I am dying. I want a milkshake; I have one. Chipotle sounds good; I go there for dinner. I see chocolate milk at the store; I buy it. Health experts will tell you finding happiness in food is unhealthy, but when happiness is in short supply elsewhere I'm happy to take it in the form of buffalo chicken dip.

And it makes me sad for some people who are on VERY restrictive diets. I understand the desire to eat healthily and put good things into your body. But sometimes my soul needs Mexican (chimichanga with the cheese dip please). Now don't get me wrong, I don't make a habit of indulging my cravings constantly. But I think under-indulging, if it's a food you really miss, can be just as bad as over indulging. Self-deprivation has its merits, but every once in awhile everyone needs some chili cheese fries.

Not once have I been laying in a hospital bed, extremely ill, and thought, "gee I wish I'd really taken off that last 10 lbs. My corpse would look so much nicer in a size 10 dress than a 12." Because when you think you might die you don't care about your waistline or your cholesterol, you just wish you'd eaten more peanut butter milkshakes while you had the chance. And gyros. And really good salsa.

This pico de gallo is (almost) to die for.

So I'm not encouraging you to eat your favorite foods every day of the week. And when you do have a treat, I'm not endorsing eating the entire family-sized package of double stuffed Oreos. But I DO think if you have a food that makes you smile inside. That makes your day just a little better. That simply lights up your soul. Eat it. Have some every now and again...and *really* savor it. Don't wolf it down and then wish there were more. Taste every bite. Eat like you were dying, because inevitably one day you will. And while I can't guarantee it, I bet you'll wish you could take a to-go bag with you.

(**I am not in any way qualified to give advice about diets or food. Take my advice with a grain of salt [and a margarita])