Bill's prayers--WRONG kinda prayers--answered!

Apparently, every bladder has a silver lining.

In this case, the silver lining for Billy Bob is called "The Neutropenic Diet"--and Bill just can't stop snickering with delight about what it requires him to eat.

I'm, well, having difficulty believing there is a diet like this for sick people.

Brief informatory digression:
A neutropenic diet (nu-tro-PEE-nik) is for people with weak immune systems, like Bill's. The diet protects them from bacteria and other harmful organisms found in food and drinks. An immunity-compromised body, like Bill's, can't protect itself from bacteria, so on the days he is neutropenic, he needs a special diet to keep him from being exposed to the many, many things that can get into your body through food.

When he first printed the diet out and started reading it, I could hear him laughing his head off in the back room.

"What in the WORLD is so funny?" I asked him.

"This diet. It's the greatest diet ever known to humankind. There really is a God."

Then he proceeded to read me his favorite sections from the diet. I had to look at it myself to make sure he wasn't tricking me, to get me to stop feeding him all the extreme-health foods I was shoving his way: things like organic, triple virgin, hydroponic, vegan prunes and yogurt and korean cabbage. Grown by contemplative monks in Asia. Well, that's a slight exaggeration, but not much.

He starts off reading me THIS from his neutropenic diet:

"Avoid all fresh fruits and vegetables. Choose donuts, sweet rolls, waffles, French toast, potato chips."

"WHAT?" I howled. "It couldn't possibly SAY that! Gimme that!"

He reads on:

"Avoid salad bars, fruit bars, raw nuts, and all yogurt. Choose chocolate milk, Velveeta cheese, cakes, pies, cookies, commercial ice cream, butter, mayonnaise, jelly, syrup, hot dogs, bacon, sausage..."

"NO! WAY!"

"Way!" he yells back. "I can't eat any foods that might arrive in our kitchen with bacteria on them. I can only eat processed foods, frozen foods, pre-packaged foods. No more raw broccoli! No more raw carrots! No more Jerusalem artichokes!"

Oh. My. Gosh. I looked at the diet and he was right.

Well.

I am still trying to bend my mind around this, but it does make a bizarre kind of sense. Although, WHAT!? He is now eating exactly the kinds of foods I have scolded him for, for lo these many years, and he is doing so with an oncological nutritionist's imprimatur.

There is no justice in this world.

Well, in mine, anyway.

There's plenty in his.

And his tastes like Jimmy Dean frozen egg-cheese-sausage biscuits with jelly toast and donuts for breakfast.

Mine tastes like prunes and yogurt and korean cabbage.