All my life I have been able to listen to music in my head.  This predates walkman and MP3 players.  It is not particularly unusual.  If you want to waste time Goggling it, you will find terms like:  "musical ear syndrome," "earworm," "musical imagery repetition," "involuntary musical imagery." I can call up Gershwin’s entire “Rhapsody in Blue" at will. But now this unique ability has backfired on me.  Almost every night I fall asleep involuntarily listening to "Cheeseburger in Paradise."  Then I wake up in the morning hearing a lot of finger snapping and..."I like mine with lettuce and tomatoes, Heinz 57 and French fried potatoes..."  During my afternoon nap I hear:  "a big warm bun and a huge hunk of meat..."  There is definitely a reason for this--I have not eaten solid food for over two months!  These are culinary hallucinations! I have learned there is a big difference between nourishment and ingesting real food.  Nutritionally I am doing fine—holding steady at 192 pounds after dropping 14.  My friends say I look good, bald head notwithstanding (Cancer doesn’t necessarily make you look like hell, just feel like it). For a guy who has subscriptions to Food Network and Fine Cooking magazines, getting esophageal cancer is the cruelest cut of all.  I can’t swallow solid foods.  The last time I tried a steak in March it felt like swallowing ground up river rock.  My doctors sternly told me I had to keep up my nutrition especially with lots of protein.  The alternative to doing it myself was punching a hole in my abdomen and attaching me to a liquid feed bag.  I would have preferred river rock. So to deliver that protein punch in the morning, I created, Peanut Butter Eggs. Here is the recipe. On one slice of whole wheat toast, spread three tablespoons of peanut butter. (Do it while the toast is hot so the peanut butter melts and softens the toast.) Then make two fried eggs over easy (runny yolks) and place them over the peanut butter toast. Serve with a glass of non-fat milk.  Calories 810, fiber 8 grams, protein 34 grams. Okay, before you say anything, consider a hole in your abdomen.