Being locked inside for a couple of months has been about as much fun as it sounds. At first, it’s not bad— despite the side effects of powerful immune-killing drugs— and it feels a little naughty. It feels like I’m committing a crime by lounging around all day. Flip a coin, land on a streaming service, and binge-watch until my computer asks if I’m okay.
No, not really, but thanks for caring.
Responsibilities? What’s that? To-do lists? Ha, that can wait. Stress? Not in my humble abode. Life on pause? Yes, thank you, that sounds lovely.
It feels like a guilty pleasure that you’re almost ashamed to talk about. It verges on taboo. Did I just let out a giddy little giggle? Ha-Mm.
Who does this? Who stops their life? No one, that’s who. Push on like a good little soldier. Head down, shoulders up, clench fists, and onwards. Is that a stiff upper lip I see? Well done. Brava.
That’s the drill, right? We’ve all had it drummed into us from birth. Life goes on, and we must go on with it. Run little rabbit run. Wait, where did that tortoise come from?
Of course, life isn’t that simple or straightforward.
Occasionally, our bodies require a complete system reboot to install an upgrade. That’s something that happens, right? Computers. Why did I pick a computer analogy? The only thing I know about them is, “Oo, pushing buttons is fun.” I might as well tell you how to rebuild a thingy using doohickies, a coat hanger, and whatchamacallits.
Still, the point remains, and there’s no other choice. We have to hit the big red button. The emergency brake engages, there’s a moment of metal grinding and smoke. Life stops, we lay down and embrace the stillness.
No shame. No guilt. Let your body and/or mind heal.
But like most guilty pleasures, the pleasure wears off as does the novelty. How many hours can one person watch a show or scroll through TikTok? No, I will not show you my screen time. It was a rhetorical question.
Boredom slowly drips in and taints the chill vibes that were painstakingly curated for this sickbed reverie. In comes the restlessness, self-flagellation, and the dreaded ‘shoulds’. I should be better by now. I should be able to do something, anything. I should be productive, but I’m weak and miserable.
Blah, blah, blah.
If you’ve been sick for more than a couple of days, then you can relate. It’s silly, though, isn’t it? If it was someone else— a person you love more than anyone else— you’d want them to rest, heal, and come back stronger. The last thing you want them to do is push it, beat themselves up, or do anything to jeopardize their recovery. However, if you’re anything like me, we’re more than willing to do it to ourselves.
If you’re new here or missed a previous post, I’ll do a recap. I’ve had a kidney transplant, and a few months ago, my body started to reject the kidney. Thankfully it was caught early, and there are treatments that work quite well. They are, however, bloody awful and completely destroy the body.
Well, that’s what it feels like.
They had to shut down my immune system, so it couldn’t do any more damage. Then, using strong steroids, they slowly restart it, and now we hope it doesn’t go on another rampage. It’s brutal and debilitating. The side effects are horrific. To make matters worse, it goes on for months, but thankfully, we’re nearing the end.
Hopefully. Fingers Crossed. Pretty please with a cherry and extra whipped cream, you’re welcome.
Since my immune system has been non-existent, I haven’t been able to go anywhere or be around anyone who isn’t in my bubble of safety. That means a handful of people, and even then, precautions are taken. You know the drill by now, so I’ll keep the “controversial” words to myself.
Did I use air quotes when I typed that? Yep, might’ve rolled my eyes too.
At first, being at home was fun, and I enjoyed being a lazy potato. I watched too many bad shows and a few questionable movies. I fell in love with baby farm animals a Googled, “How do I adopt a mini cow?” Do you think they’d let me keep it in my one-bedroom apartment? No, you’re right, it’s a bad idea. Probably.
The inevitable finally happened, and I started climbing the walls. I felt like I was wasting time just sitting around. Are we going to completely ignore the fact that I didn’t have the strength to do anything else, and I might’ve been fighting for my life? Yes, please and thank you.
The guilt came, and then sadness. I had so many plans and so many places to visit. Now… sigh…You know what? No, the pity party ends here. Full stop!
I was talking to a friend— indulging in the aforementioned pity— and she chimed in with a very excited, “Oo, I have an idea!” Do you have a friend who uses those words, and you’re instantly flooded with conflicting emotions? Fear comes first. It’s anyone’s guess where this will go. The brilliant idea could be a movie marathon or wrestling alligators.
How did you find gators in Canada? Never mind, I don’t wanna know.
On the other hand, there’s no denying the intrigue that comes with such unpredictability. This could be the best idea they’ve ever had, or one of us will take a ride in an ambulance. Despite the warranted hesitancy, I heard myself asking, “Whatcha got?”
A voice in my head whispers, “What are you getting us into?” Be damned if I know. Good luck and Godspeed.
There was a food truck festival nearby that weekend, and she suggested we check it out. Ah, the highs and lows of brilliant ideas and good intentions. Scroll back a few paragraphs, and you’ll know why this was a no-go. A festival means people, lots of people, and the one thing I couldn’t risk being around is? Yep, people.
I can’t go in there!
As much as I wanted to— and I really wanted to— it was asking for trouble. I’d be safer licking every chair on a city bus or skinny dipping in a biohazard tub. Damn it, now I’m depressed and hungry.
Ah, but the best thing about a wildcard friend is their brilliant ideas know no bounds. Also, their willingness to leap without looking is even more pronounced when a friend is in need. Luckily, I was the beneficiary of this delightful human’s quirks.
Her response was simple, “You can’t go in, but I can.” I tried to think of a rebuttal but failed. It was a good idea, sorta. I was bored and close to losing my ming. What the hell! So the plan was made. We’d meet up with all safety precautions taken (damn PPE), and she’d get the food. Then we’d find a safe place to picnic and enjoy real-world company at a food truck festival.
From April to mid-June, The Greater Vancouver Food Truck Festival kicks off the spring season with the Food Truck Wars. Three days, forty food trucks, and more delicious food than one person can eat. Each truck competing for our votes and hoping to win titles, trophies, and bragging rights.
It’s a foodies’ paradise, and entry is by donation if you feel compelled. The money goes to charity so you can feel good while filling up on good food. Oh, the food!
If you want to see where the next stop on their culinary tour is, check out their website: https://greatervanfoodtruckfest.com/
Since I was stuck in the parking lot, I created a list of all the goodies I wanted to try. Let’s see…Mm, decisions, decisions. Wood-fired pizza from Little Devils (https://littledevilspizza.com/). Smokey. chew crust with a fresh and slightly sweet tomato sauce. Gooey cheese and fresh basil. Drool.
How about some good old-fashioned barbecue from Truckin’ BBQ? (https://www.truckinbbq.com/). The sauce was sweet and tangy. The brisket melted in my mouth. I nearly dislocated my jaw on the first bite, but the tender meat gave way so easily.
Naturally, comfort food is a must, so let’s get some mac and cheese from Reel Mac And Cheese (http://www.reelmacandcheese.com/). Gooey cheese that somehow felt light and clean. It could’ve used a bit more seasoning for my taste buds but on a cold day? Mm, this is pure bliss.
Of course, no Canadian foodie could go to an event like this and not get a Beaver tail (https://beavertails.com/). Fried dough topped with your choice of deliciousness. Nutella and banana. Cinnamon sugar. Go wild! It’s basically a patriotic duty. How could anyone walk past that truck and not be lured in? Impossible!
As much as I wanted to walk around the festival and experience it for myself, selfishly, I’m lucky I couldn’t. Spring decided to play its many wondrous tricks that day. I think Mother Nature delivered every type of weather possible. We enjoyed a beautiful clear blue sky, and then, without warning, wet snow fell hard and fast. That was followed by a torrential downpour that sounded a tad bit apocalyptic.
Bless my dear friend! She braved it all and brought back so many goodies. We’d planned to picnic in a park, but the temperamental climate rendered that notion void. There was only one thing we could do. Huddle under the open hatch of my sub-compact SUV (thank God for short legs) and tailgate.
The air was bitingly cold. Drops of freezing rain rolled down the backs of our necks. We shivered as we sampled a little of everything. A slice of pizza, a mouthful of brisket, and a delicious bit of beaver tail. It was ridiculous. We laughed. We jumped up and down to keep our toes warm.
It was perfect. Absurdly, brilliantly, wonderfully perfect.
I haven’t felt like the luckiest person lately. Actually, I’d say my luck is non-existent, and I won’t buy a lottery ticket anytime soon. However, at some point, I must have done something right to have a friend like this. Someone who’d brave the downpour and the crowds to help me feel a little more human for an hour or two.
A friend who’d risk frostbite to make me smile.
I don’t know what I did to deserve that. No idea. Couldn’t tell ya. But I’m so incredibly grateful.
The Wandering Cripple 
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