Full of Grace

Monday's child is fair of face/ Tuesday's child is full of grace/Wednesday's child is full of woe/ Thursday's child has far to go/Friday's child is loving and giving/ Saturday's child works hard for his living/And the child that is born on the Sabbath day/Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay

There is truth to be found in this old nursery rhyme. At least it is so with my late partner Stephen, who passed away on a Saturday and was also born on a Saturday. If there is one true walk away from Steve’s life and living at his side for almost 28 years, it is that he did in fact work hard for a living.

In 2017, Steve became physically disabled and quit work. In April of that year he underwent a very extreme surgery to protect what little spinal chord he had left in his neck. A seven level lambiosplasty where they went in through the back, (usually these surgeries are done through the front if possible), they cut open seven vertebrae (usually it is just two or three), cleaned out the numerous bone spurs, and screwed him back together with 14 titanium screws and two rods. Unfortunately Steve was never the same after the surgery, though the amazing doctors had said he would be in a wheelchair within six months if these corrective, or rather preventative measures were not taken. He did avoid a wheelchair until summer of 2025, and had many sweet walks on the property with the dogs with his cane and walking sticks. But he loathed showers and getting wet, because of the metal in his neck. I was saddened when my mother installed a hot tub on her deck, which I use regularly and help maintain, that Steve would not join me in a romantic soak. No, those days were over. He really did his best and lived a very good life until his death from cancer in September of this year.

No doubt, if Steve had not been a cook/chef, he may have had employment that offered health insurance, and he may have been able to take preventative measures for his spinal chord years earlier. Back in 2010, he took a year off of work and applied for Disability, as we was having trouble on his feet. But he was not far enough along to qualify, and ultimately went back to work as a breakfast cook and continued to cook and sell tacos for the local Farmer’s Market. Though Steve’s body was failing him, his mental capacity to keep me grounded and nurture me through several major mental health episodes in the summers of 2018, 2019, and after New Year’s in 2021, was immense. He was there for me to talk through many psychotic visions and thoughts, and try to pull me back to the earth and reality. I suffered greatly during these times and the years following adjusting to some very difficult medications, but finally came across Zyprexa after my episode in 2021, and have been stable on this medication ever since. I was able to give up Seroquel and Carbamazepine, both of which the side effects were incredibly debilitating. The main negative side effect of Zyprexa is weight gain, and though I did gain a substantial amount of weight initially, I have since healed my reaction to this false hunger and have found a way to eat logically and healthily. I am so grateful for the opportunity to cook meals for Steve and I in the last several months of his life. He taught me a lot in this short period. I really thrived becoming a caregiver for Steve. How lucky I was to care for my sweet lover and soulmate, and to give back some of the love and support that he blessed me with throughout our many years together, watching me battle severe mental illness.

I miss you babe, and though your propensity to work hard for a living may have been your demise in the end, I am eternally grateful for all you provided for us in your working years. You gave us a beautiful life. You helped and trained and supported many people in the restaurant industry, and you blessed thousands of bodies with your heavenly food. That love that you put into your work and your food is carried with all of us on a molecular level. Truly a gifted soul, I miss you terribly. Thank you for blessing all of us with your gifts.

Emily LeClair MetcalfComment