Beet-en

I’m dying. It’ll probably be a slow painful death, or maybe not. I could just drop dead without any warning. Whatever. The final exit style doesn’t matter, just as the manner of entry, birth, is irrelevant in the whole scheme of things. The end result is the same, a hardened, cold body.

The symptoms are all there - clammy palms, dry mouth, frizzy hair, and the big one, blood. Yes. I am bleeding, hemorrhaging badly.

My likely last night on this planet was unremarkable which is probably for the best. The last day should be lived as all the rest, mundanely. It feels more sincere that way.

On this last evening, I spent it roasting beets. Yes, roasting beets in 81 degree weather. You know you have to turn the oven up to 425 degrees for the roasting. But I had to prepare those beets. Sarah found a lovely clump of the roots at the farmer’s market. Oh how she loves beets! She begged and begged for the beets. If your preschooler is begging for beets, you must get them the beets.

So, I got her the beets. Every night at dinner she asked if we were having the beets, but I kept forgetting to roast the beets. It takes 45 minutes to roast those little guys, don’t you know? I’d disappoint her and dish out her other selections from the market, carrots, strawberries, broccoli – all uncooked.

Tonight, as the beets roasted, I rinsed the beet greens and sautéed them with a little olive oil and balsamic vinegar. The lovely roasted beets, when done, were tossed with olive oil and salt, nothing else. Our dinner was a beet extravaganza! Oh and it was so good. I don’t even remember what else we had to eat. I only remember the beets. We all savored in their crimson deliciousness.

Now, I’m wilting away. My urine turned bright pink from the blood. There is no pain. Not yet. I googled “blood in urine” as a form of torture, curious as to how dramatic the conclusion of my small life will be. The internet proved useless, as usual.

There was an article about commonly finding blood in the urine after exercise. I did run today, but not nearly hard or far enough to justify bleeding like I am. The cause must be more serious, ruptured kidney, or…

Sorry. I was interrupted by Mike. It seems that my illness is contagious. He is also bleeding. Oh no! Sarah reports the same symptoms. How could an entire family be taken down so quickly, so mercilessly by hot pink urine of all things? Truly undignified.

Back to the internet search. Yes, I know it’s sick, but I have to know the details of our demise….

Wait. It’s Mike again. He’s convinced that it’s the beets. The beets have stained our urine with their color.

Yeah, sure. He’s so cute, so optimistic, so naive. I know better. I can feel my life force slipping away.

This is the end. Farewell, all!