Breast Cancer, Blogging and a Coffee Cake

Dealing with breast cancer is a pretty good reason for not blogging, don’t you think?

Actually, I’ve been debating with myself and others for several months about whether I should “go public” about my breast cancer.  Mr. Rosemary and I are both pretty private people when it comes to intimate matters, especially matters of health.

When I posed the question aloud at a small family gathering about whether I should shift the focus of my blog, my brother-in-law Mike, who’s usually pretty reticent, and pretty private himself, said, without missing a beat, “Do what YOU want to do.”

I’ve missed writing here.  And I’ve still managed to cook and try new things.  But my heart hasn’t really been in writing about the food  I’ve made -- or taking respectable photographs -- because my mind’s been so much more on other things.

Why can’t I blend the two?  Of course, I can.

When I started this blog, it was a place for me to write -- about anything.  Since I like to cook and to experiment, and I collect recipes and cookbooks like a fiend, it seemed only natural that my writing drifted towards food.

My story is not unique. Tens of thousands of women (and men) have had to deal with breast cancer. And thousands have experiences far more troubling than mine.  I know I’m one of the lucky ones.

Still, I feel compelled to write about my journey.  But where to begin? I’m well into my treatment and it’s been several months since my first suspicious mammogram. 

I might as well dive right in.

What an education I’m having!

Here are just some of the things I’ve learned (in no particular order of importance):

• ·         Gratitude
• ·         Humility
• ·         The power of music, prayer and a good read
• ·         The importance of protein and handwashing
• ·         The value of research
• ·         The cost of medical care
• ·         The blessings of distraction
• ·         The appeal of yoga
• ·         The agony of waiting
• ·         Simple pleasures
• ·         The incredible generosity of friends and strangers
• ·         It’s okay to cry. It's also okay to get angry.
• ·         (But you better get over it.) 

Most importantly, I’m learning what’s important – and what’s not.

It’s pretty scary to “go public” but my hope is that maybe somebody will learn something, especially me. I feel like I'm standing before my sixth grade class making my first speech.  Maybe you can feel my sweaty palms.

One important lesson I’ve learned is that there are plenty of silver linings about going through cancer treatment. They're platinum.

One of the best silver linings is the good food people have brought us.  How do I know so many good cooks? From chicken noodle soup to apple pie to ginger chicken to chili to French toast casserole. 

This past Mother’s Day, we “hosted” a brunch. I use the word hosting loosely because it was merely at our home. 

Everybody else brought the food.  My sister-in-law Diane brought a scrumptious coffee cake.  It’s a very simple cake, one my non-baking self has made several times since easily.  I want to try making it with a layer of fruit as Diane suggests, but I’m hesitant to mess with my success. 

I did alter the recipe once and added almond extract and almonds to the cake. It was okay, but I'm sticking with the original. (I even took a cake to my cancer center to share with the staff and other patients.) They loved it, too --all gone.

Sour Cream Coffee Cake

For the cake:

1 cup oleo or butter, softened

1 ½ cups sugar

2 large eggs

1 cup sour cream

2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

For the Filling:

½ cup sugar

½ cup chopped nuts (optional)

1 teaspoon cinnamon

For the Batter:  Cream the butter and sugar, then add the sour cream, vanilla and eggs. Mix well. Add the dry the ingredients and mix well.

For the Filling: Mix all the ingredients together in a small bowl.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease Bundt pan or springform pan and add half the batter. Top with the filling. Carefully spoon the rest of the batter on top of the filling to cover. Bake 50 – 60 minutes, until lightly golden.

Optional: Place very thinly sliced apples or peaches and place on top of the filling. May need to bake longer if you add the fruit.

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Blogger's Note:  If you know someone who's been through or is going through breast cancer treatment, I hope you'll share this blog with them.  Bloggers love comments, too; it's like mother's milk.