The next afternoon, after being discharged, Emma tried to get comfortable in the back of a minivan as her mam fussed over her. “I’m fine, Mam. Just trying to find a comfortable position for my leg. Ow! It was better the way it was.”
Ann stopped fussing over Emma, not wanting to cause her anymore pain. “Jacob’s mam is coming over tomorrow, to show me that new way of cooking. I don’t know... I’m pretty old to be learning something so new.”
Emma quailed. “Mam! It’s not hard. Jacob took me to that new salad place and showed me how just a few ingredients and vegetables can taste so gut! Did you know that bell peppers, vinegar and oil make a salad tasty?”
Ann responded with a noncommittal “Um.”
Emma sank back into her seat, feeling worried and saddened. Looking at Ann, her hands wrung themselves back and forth as she tried to keep the tears from falling. Inhaling a long breath, she forced her chin to stop trembling, and she looked up in a hopeless attempt to keep the tears from falling.
“Daughter! What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”
Grinding her teeth, Emma exhaled. Swiping the tears away angrily, she spoke. “Ja, I’m in pain. I’m also fearful that you aren’t going to support my efforts to lose weight and get healthy. Mam, I don’t want to be sick or Injured! I just want to be healthy, able to breath, see the ground, walk without my knees hurting, and I don’t want to have to find out that I’m diabetic all because I’m obese. I want to be able to work at the bakery without my knees and legs screaming in pain.” She gulped back a sob. “I need to change how I eat. I need your love and support for this to work. Mam, don’t your knees hurt? Don’t you feel breathless when you have to walk upstairs even once, or when we go to the phone house?”
Ann had lived overweight for so long that the discomforts had become a part of the overall landscape. Thinking about it, she realized she had lived with knee pain and breathlessness for years. Looking at Emma’s roundness, then at her own, she experienced an “ah-hah!” moment. Putting her hand over her mouth, she looked at John, sitting in the front seat. She saw his shoulders, rounded with fat, looked at his shirtsleeves taut on his fat upper arms. Looking down, she saw the rolls of fat around his middle. “Oh. Oh! Do you think your dat...?”
“Ja! I do! But you don’t say anything because you’re used to it.” Emma was on a roll and she didn’t care—she was going to say it, because she loved her parents. “Mam, I can nearly guarantee that if you go to the doctor and he does a blood sugar test on you, it will show you are both diabetic. And that is a promise that your health will get worse.”
Ann was silenced. She had cooked for so long, using lard and butter that she knew it would be hard to change. We aren’t old. But we could die soon if I don’t make some changes. Looking again at Emma, she saw fear and anger mingled in her expression.
“Mam, I’m going to be moving around on crutches for a few months. I know that Jacob’s mam is coming over tomorrow to show you that changing your way of cooking won’t be that hard. I already found out that eating a healthy meal doesn’t mean giving up gut taste. Mam, I just want to be healthy! That’s all!” Unable to hold back her feelings, tears began rushing out of Emma’s eyes.
“”Okay. I promise. I’ll keep an open mind. But it won’t be easy.”
“Mam, I know. Jacob had to convince me to try new tastes. But once I tasted the different peppers, I loved them. Ja, we can still eat meats and desserts. We just have to find different ways of making them that won’t lead to added pounds and health problems. That’s all.” Emma wiped her face dry.
***
At home, she practiced on her crutches. Her new therapist had stopped by to show her how to navigate a new way of moving around.
“No, don’t allow your arm pits to rest on your crutches. You’ll be so sore! Stand straighter. Good. Now, see how your arm pads are lower? That’s where they’re supposed to be. Hold your elbows straight. Your palms will be sore for a few days, but this means you’re walking correctly. Now, place your crutch tips so they are at a slight angle away from your body. Place your weight on your hands and swing your foot forward. I’m here, you won’t fall. Again. You’re doing well!”
Emma did everything the therapist said. After taking five steps, she was exhausted, breathing heavily. “Can I sit? How do I sit?”
“Okay, doing everything I just showed you, back up to the couch. Let the back of your good leg touch the front of the couch. Remove just one crutch from your body, grab my hand and bend your good knee slowly. Move your other crutch. Carefully now...and land. Good! Let me put your crutches over here.
Emma continued to breathe fast. Ann brought her a glass of water and Emma drank half of it down. “Denki, Mam.” Turning to her physical therapist, she sighed. “Cathy, all of this work means I’m going to lose weight while I’m laid up.”
Cathy chuckled. “Ironic, isn’t it? I’ll be here five days a week at first, to help you learn how to get around. I’ll also be giving you exercises to help you keep your flexibility so you don’t get hurt, and I’ll show you how to fall so you won’t get hurt.”
“Fall? I don’t want to do that again!”
“No, you don’t, but until you get used to moving on crutches, it will happen. You may as well learn how to fall safely. Sure, you’ll have bruises and maybe a few cuts. But if we can keep you from breaking other bones, I will have given you something you need.”
Emma dropped her head into her hands. “Cathy, this is so frustrating!”
“Yep. It is. You know what made me decide to become a therapist? I played softball in high school. I was a pitcher. During one game, I was running into home plate. The catcher stepped out to try and catch the ball so she could tag me out. I saw her and tried to slow down so I wouldn’t hit so hard. That was a big mistake. I set my right foot down, but I had so much momentum going that I couldn’t slow down. Emma, I tore the heck out of my knee. I could feel it tearing. The ligaments and tendons were just popping inside. It hurt. Horribly.
“After my surgery, I was in therapy and I had the most wonderful therapist ever. He made me work hard. I got mad at him and, well, I blessed him out a few times. My mother wasn’t too pleased to hear the words I threw at him. But he didn’t give up on me. He just made me continue working, just as if I’d said nothing bad to him. He taught me how to walk on crutches, how to fall properly and how to use my good leg, my hips and even my arms so I wouldn’t overstress different areas of my body. I did fall. The situations I found myself in were embarrassing. Getting my crutch tip stuck? Down I went. I didn’t think about trying to get through big rocks like they have in parking lots. Down I went again. Getting my sneaker on my good foot stuck in the carpet—”
“Down you went. Did you hit your knee? Your bad one, I mean?”
“I came too close. Mom took me to the bank so I could take money out of the ATM. That’s when I fell in the bed of rocks. I scared my mom and another bank customer out of their minds. It took both of them to help me get back on my foot. I decided to go around the back of Mom’s car and up the handicapped ramp. And that’s what I advise you to do. Going outside? Always have someone next to you. Hmm. Can your father get a long piece of lumber? No, that won’t work. The stairs are too steep. Okay. When you go anywhere, like to church, just get two or three people to help you down those steps so you don’t get hurt.”
Emma’s eyes rounded. “Oh, my word! I won’t be able to leave home until I’m back on two feet! Nee! I don’t want to try that!”
“Emma, I’ll save that for another day. Yes, it is scary. I remember. But you do need to get out, or you’ll go stir-crazy here just staying inside four walls. But, boy, they are beautiful walls!”
“Cathy, I can’t. I’m too heavy and I’ll just go down.”
“You can and you will. I’ll teach you the safest way to do so. And I’ll help you build some strength in your arms, too.”
Emma subsided.
“Okay, while you’re seated, let’s do this.” Cathy moved so she was kneeling in front of Emma. “I’m going to hold the back of your foot and slowly move your lower leg up and down. You let me know when it hurts too much.”
Emma held her breath, waiting as Cathy gently moved her leg up and down.
“Don’t hold your breath! Breathe in and out. Breathe out as I raise your leg and in as I lower it.”
Emma did so. But she also tensed her shoulders, facial muscles and squeezed her hands into the cushion of the sofa.
“Good...except for how you’re tensing up the rest of your body. Relax, Emma, or you’re going to be hurting everywhere tomorrow morning.”
Reluctantly, Emma forced herself to relax. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on her— “Oh, ouch! Now, it hurts!”
“Okay, good. We got something like fifteen raises there. Not bad! Mister and Missus Lapp, I need you in here for a few minutes, please.” After Emma’s parents had come in, she was about to tell them what they needed to do. A knock at the door stopped her.
Emma looked up. Seeing Jacob framed by the screen door, she smiled. “Jacob! Come in!”
“He’s a friend of yours?”
“Ja, a gut one. Cathy, meet Jacob King. Jacob, my therapist, Cathy. She has already worked me hard today.”
Jacob smiled, happy to see that Emma was already working. “Gut to meet you.”
“You, too! I don’t know how much you’re here, but the more people who know what Emma’s learning, the better. We’ve been discussing how she’s going to get down the porch steps when she has to go out. A ramp is out of the question because it would be too steep. So, Emma, you’re going to have to learn how to navigate them while on your crutches. Until you get used to that, I want you to have several spotters around you.”
“‘Spotters?’”
“Yes. People who stand nearby, ready to catch you. I don’t want you getting hurt, any more than you want to be hurt. So, in the next few days, after you’ve gotten more used to using these, we’ll work on that. Try not to worry about using stairs. It looks scarier than it is. And, I need to get to my next appointment. I’ll be back here tomorrow.” Pulling her smartphone out of her bag, Cathy consulted her calendar. “How’s nine tomorrow morning?”
Emma nodded. “It’s gut for me.”
“Excellent. Okay, see you then!” John escorted Cathy and Jacob out.
For the remainder of that day, Emma practiced moving around on her crutches. The new mode of movement plus her excess weight made it difficult for her, so she was near tears when she sat down.
“Daughter, it’s like learning how to walk all over again. You’ll learn how to do this.” Ann brought a glass of milk to Emma, who gulped it down.
“But, Mam, back then, I wasn’t so overweight. I’ve scared myself so many times today, nearly falling that I’m just...disgusted!” Along with wiping tears that leaked down her face, Emma wiped perspiration from her forehead and neck.
“Would you like a few cookies?”
Emma looked down, frustrated. “Nee. How about an orange or an apple?”
Bringing the fruit back, Ann went back to her chores.
Later in the day, Emma managed to move from the living room to the kitchen. Bracing one hip against the kitchen table, she pushed the chair back and carefully sat down. “Ah! I got it! I may survive. Mam, if you have anything that needs to be done, I’ll take care of it for you.”
“Ja, please peel and cut the potatoes.” Ann looked toward the front door. “Visitors.” Hurrying to the door, she saw Jacob and Rachel King. “Oh! Come in!”
“Ann, I realize it’s probably very close to suppertime, and I figured it would be a gut time to show you how I’ve been cooking for so many years.”
Ann was surprised. “Oh, well, if you look at the foods I have ready to cook, we can get started. Emma’s sitting at the table, working on vegetables.”
“Gut! I’ll help her out.” Jacob hurried into the sunny kitchen, seeing Emma peeling several potatoes.
Rachel surveyed the meat, vegetables and ingredients for dessert. “Okay, beef. I’ll show you how to trim it so you still have some fat for taste and moisture. I also brought over a couple bottles of low saturated fat oils you can use to cook. What are you planning to do with the potatoes?”
“Pan-fry them and add onions, pepper and salt.”
“Excellent. What other veggies do you have?”
“Green beans. And, for dessert, I plan to make a cobbler with the peaches.”
“Let’s get started!” Rachel found herself answering questions about the canola and olive oils she had brought with her. “You’ll add flavor with these herbs. Supper will taste like you’ve never experienced before. Have you ever had my daughter’s roast beef?”
Ann and Emma thought back. “Ja! At one of the last frolics, she brought it. It was delicious. The red peppers she added in gave it a taste that was, well, bright and zesty. The potatoes were tender, even though there wasn’t much gravy.”
“There’s a reason for that. I taught Susan to use just a little of the natural fat when she cooks beef. Emma, Ann, beef is one of the foods with saturated fat. That’s the kind of fat that accumulates in your arteries and leads to heart attacks and strokes. So, ja, use some of that, but not all of it. You need some to give the meat moisture and taste. Now, let me show you what I do...” Rachel poured small amounts of both oils into small bowls. “I’m going to dab a little of these oils on your fingers. Taste them.”
“Hmm. They aren’t as strong as the melted lard is. I don’t know...” Ann shook her head in doubt.
“But see what else you taste in the olive oil.”
Emma closed her eyes. Notes of the olives came through. “I taste the olive...some of the acids...it’s rich without feeling like too much.” Next, she tasted the canola. “I like the olive oil better. It has more flavor. Mam, please use the olive oil. I can’t—we can’t keep on being this heavy.”
Ann tried both oils again. “Okay. I see what you say. Like you, I like this olive oil better. Rachel, is it expensive?”
“Ja, more expensive than beef fat. When you consider that using it keeps you out of the hospital, you put it in a better perspective.”
Ann was silent. Perhaps I have had a bit of an attitude about this. Sighing, she smiled. “Let’s start cooking. Since we aren’t using beef fat, how do I add extra flavor to the meat and potatoes?”
“A little salt, herbs, spices and these peppers, sliced up.”
“I’ll take those, Missus King.” Emma pulled them next to her cutting board. “Oh. How do I get rid of these white things and the seeds?”
Jacob took the knife. “Just slide the knife along the edge of that white rib. Run the back of the knife along the inside of each sliced pepper and get rid of as many seeds as you can. Like so.” He demonstrated.
“That’s easy! Let me take over.” Emma carefully took the knife back and continued working on the vegetables.
“On the beans, are you going to add butter or margarine?”
“Margarine. It’s healthy, right?” Ann was sure she’d get a good answer for that one.
“Actually, nee, it isn’t. I’ll teach you more about why margarine is bad. In small amounts, butter is actually healthier. The fats in margarine do the same thing as the saturated fats.”
“Oh, my Gott, so much to learn!” Ann groaned.
“Don’t worry. Jacob will bring notes to you that I’ll be writing down. Now, dessert. Cobbler is simple. Do you use shortening for that?”
“Ja...is that gut? Or bad?”
“Well, again, use butter in a small amount. Use less. Instead, add moisture with milk or water so the dough scoops and forms a ball easily. Add a little salt and sugar and the baked dough will be delicious!”
Under Rachel’s supervision, Ann made the planned meal. As the foods started coming out of the oven, she and Rachel set the table. “Would you like to join us? There’s plenty.”
“Oh, nee. I made our supper and it’s holding hot in the oven. Jacob, go bring in the bread, cookies and chicken, please.”
Jacob hurried out to the buggy, bringing the basket of foods back in. “The chicken is still hot, so, once it cools, refrigerate it. And let us know what you think of how your supper tastes. Mam can help you make adjustments for anything you’re not sure of.”
The Kings hurried back out, ready to go home.
“Emma, spread the trivets on the table. It’s just us three to—” Ann looked up as Barbara, Ben and their children came into the house. “Oh. Come in! Barbara, take these plates and set the table. I’ll put supper on the trivets.”
John came into the house, sniffing. “Hmm, Roast? It smells different.”
“Ja, Rachel and Jacob King came by and they showed us new ways of making our meals. I can’t wait to taste what we made!” Ann was surprised that she was so eager.
After giving a silent prayer, John accepted his plate of food from Ann. Taking a large bite of the roast and peppers, he closed his eyes, experiencing the flavors. “Well, I’m surprised. It’s gut! I like it!” He continued eating, nodding his approval of each dish.
Ann smiled at Emma, who looked at her dat in amazement. Continuing to dish up food, Emma passed plates to everyone.
“Mam, I don’t like these things. What are they?” said Michael, who had speared the peppers on his fork.
“Michael, did you even taste them? You know our rule. Taste each food and give it an honest chance before deciding you don’t like it,” John pointed his fork at Michael.
With a scowl, Michael took delicate bites of each pepper. Chewing them, his expression changed from apprehension to surprise. “They’re gut!” He continued to munch on each pepper, until they were all gone. “The meat’s gut too. The potatoes taste a little different. But I like them!”
Emma thought the new way of cooking was excellent. She felt as though she was already getting healthier. The bell peppers—red, orange, yellow, and green—all added new flavors to the meat and gravy. “I don’t miss the flavor of the beef fat at all. I think Missus King did a wunderbaar thing, helping you. I hope she’ll help us out more.”
Ben ate in his usual, businesslike fashion with little comment. The fact that his plate was clean of any morsel of food was communication enough.
Barbara privately liked the food, thinking the changes in flavor were a gut thing. Hearing her fear speak up, she was compelled to add the sole negative remarks. “I don’t know. I was hungerich before we came. I liked the beef fat and gravy. Mam, what did you use in the potatoes? They taste...different.” Deliberately making a bad face, she played with the food on her plate.
“Daughter, have you given them all a chance?” John leaned back, savoring the meal he had just eaten. “Try combining the meat with the vegetables. See what you think then.”
Barbara quietly did so, feeling surprise as she liked the combination of the peppers with the meat.
“Rachel King told me that margarine is really not gut for us. That it does the same thing as lard to our bodies. And, here I thought it would be healthy. I guess you learn something new every day.”
“Mmm. I guess. It’ll just take time for me to adjust. Did you use butter in the potatoes?”
“Ja. She told me that a little amount is actually healthier than margarine.”
Barbara thought back. “Didn’t her dat die of heart disease?” Hearing the words she had just spoken, she closed her eyes, wishing she could take them back.
Emma saw her older sister’s reaction. Puzzled at first, she put it together along with Barbara’s resistance to the new way of cooking. Ach! That’s what it is! For some reason, she doesn’t want Mam to change how she’s been cooking for so long. Why? Hearing the conversation continuing around her, she reminded herself to think about it after she went to bed.
“So, Emma, how are you getting around?” Barbara’s sharp gaze pierced Emma.
“Carefully. There’s so much to learn about walking on crutches.”
“Oh, can I try them?” Michael clambered out of his seat.
“Sit back down! Nee, you can’t try your auntie’s crutches. They are for her only.” John pointed, ordering his grandson back to his seat.
Michael scowled, sitting back down.
“Daughter, tell Barbara what else you learned.” Ann needed to review everything that had happened that day.
“How to use crutches correctly. How to sit down and I’m learning how to stand back up. I have to force myself not to put any weight on my bad leg. And I am going to be learning how to go downstairs and upstairs using crutches.”
“I want to see that! Auntie Emma is going to fall! BOOM!” The ever-irrepressible Michael allowed his hands to spread wide in the air, catching his sister in the face.
“Michael! Go upstairs right now!” Ben pointed to the stairs as he pulled Annie onto his lap.
Emma was upset, but for a different reason. Michael was right. And she was afraid of another serious injury.
Barbara was eagerly regarding her sister. “So, did you fall earlier? How are you doing, getting around on crutches?” She remembered to make sure her face wore an appropriately concerned expression.
“Nearly, but my physical therapist was there to catch me.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“Mam set up a room downstairs for me. It’ll be a while before I can navigate the stairs.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll be praying that you adjust and heal fast.” And that you don’t lose very much weight. “With these foods, you’re sure to lose some of the weight, right?”
“Ja. That’s exactly what I want to do. I want to be healthy again.”
Right. You want to be thin and pretty—prettier than me. That won’t happen. Barbara sent a sharp look to her younger sister. “Healthy? Or thin and seeking attention from the young men here in Lancaster?”
Emma hadn’t expected that and perceived it to be an attack. Setting her fork down, she looked at Barbara. “Have I ever said anything about wanting to be thin just to attract the attention of the men here? I have been dealing with knee pain, being unable to breathe and move quickly, and with knowing that I am at risk of developing diabetes. That’s a lot more important than becoming full of pride.” Emma wanted to get up and storm off, but she couldn’t.
“Barbara, your sister spoke at length to her doctors today. She is going to lose that weight with our support—including yours.”
“I’m going to get the dessert now.” Ann bounced up and took the still-warm cobbler from the back of the stove. “Annie, get the vanilla ice cream, please.” With Annie’s help, she dished out healthy, large portions of the dessert, encouraging Annie to put at least two scoops of ice cream on each plate.
“Mam, this smells gut!” Emma sniffed the scent of the dessert in. As she ate, she began to feel more and more full. As delicious as the cobbler was, she realized she wouldn’t be able to finish it.
Again, Barbara wore an expression of doubt on her face. She made small sounds, as though she was deciding about the new taste experience.
“Daughter, what are those sounds you’re making? You sound like a baby about to start crying.” John was completely enjoying the new taste of the cobbler.
Barbara, caught, sighed. “Dat, I’m just trying to decide if I like the new taste of the cobbler. Mam, how did you make this one?”
“No margarine. Instead, a little butter and some milk for the dough. I like it—daughter, why aren’t you finishing yours?” Ann had noticed that Emma still had about a quarter of her dessert on her plate.
“Mam, it’s so delicious, but I got so full! I just can’t finish it.” Feeling her airway tighten, Emma reached into her apron pocket for her inhaler. Shaking it, she placed it in her mouth and squeezed, repeating the process one more time. “When it’s time to wash dishes and finish the redding up, I’ll dry.”
“Denki. Are you feeling okay?” Ann peered anxiously at Emma.
“I’m fine. I just overdid this delicious food.”
Ann felt oddly praised. “Denki. Even with the new way of cooking, you like it?”
“Mam, I love it! What about you?”
“It’s better than I expected, actually. I liked it, too! I’m going to ask Rachel about breakfasts, lunches, other desserts and—”
“Salads? I’ll be happy to teach you what Jacob taught me!”
“Ja, I’d like that.”
Hearing the exchange, Barbara felt her heart sink. Mam supports Emma’s weight loss? Nee!
After Ben, Barbara and their children had left, Emma laboriously made her way to the front porch. “While it’s still nearly warm, I want to enjoy the dusk.” She accepted her dat’s assistance in sitting down. “Join me, Dat?”
“Denki. How are you feeling?”