Ask any chef wife or significant other whose chef has been working in the kitchen for a while about their chef’s injuries and well . . . you better grab a cup of coffee and a chair because you might be there for a while.
Over the past 19 years we’ve dealt with cuts, burns, a broken back and torn ligaments, just to name a few.
Now it’s not totally fair to put all the blame on the career. When my chef/husband makes eating healthy and working out a priority, he can physically handle the job easier. However, when things get really busy as work, those are the things that tend to be pushed to the side. (This happens with many of us, not just chefs, right?)
However, no matter how good of shape you are in, sometimes injuries happen.
Right now, my chef/husband is sporting a lovely black cast on his left arm. (I would show you a picture, but decided to skip asking him if I could take one as I know he hates it when I take his picture. You can take a peek at it in this Facebook post from New Year’s Eve.) He’s left handed. He doesn’t have any broken bones, but has torn ligaments in his elbow from repetitive movements (chopping, working the sauté station, etc.) Even with the cast on, he’s in a lot of pain. (more…)
Until I lost my mother to cancer 12 years ago, I never knew Mother’s Day was a hard day for anyone. For me, it was a fun day to celebrate my Mom and my Mother-In-Law. While my chef/husband was always working, (hello busiest day of the year – no Mom wants to cook) we just chose another day to celebrate and that was that.
I have no idea why it never occurred to me that this would be a very hard day for so many women. My Mom lost her mother to cancer when I was 9 months old and my Dad lost his mother when I was 7. I’m sure all those Mother’s Days after they died were hard. But either I was oblivious and didn’t notice, or they did a pretty good job of hiding it from me. (more…)
Today would have been my Mom’s 66th birthday. We lost her to cancer 12 years ago.
You would think after 12 birthdays, 12 of my parent’s wedding anniversaries, 12 Mother’s Days, etc., it would get a lot easier, but it really hasn’t.
There are so many things that come flooding into my mind on these types of days: memories of being told she had cancer, seeing her suffer, seeing the helplessness in my Dad’s eyes, pleading with God to heal her or take her home to be with Him so she would no longer be suffering, feeling so alone and sad while home alone at night after she died, etc.
There are of course happy memories as well: family vacations, playing the piano and singing together, doing puzzles, playing with play-dough in the kitchen while she cooked dinner, etc.