Saturday, July 12, 2014

There's Not Much to Say About Hospital Food When You See So Little of It

I must admit to being unkind to a colleague at work the other day (and thus long after this hospital adventure was over). She's very friendly, but not someone I see frequently, and I bumped into her on my way out to lunch with a friend. She was in the hall waiting for the elevator.

Me: Hey! It's been awhile, how are you?
She:  I’m good. How are you? You look like you’ve lost some weight.
Me: Yeah, a little bit.
She: How’d you do it? Did you do something specific?
Me: Yeah, I got cancer.

In retrospect, that probably wasn’t the best approach (sorry!). And as I think about it, the cancer probably had less to do with the weight loss than the fact that during a week long stay in the hospital I was fed just one legitimate meal. 

Prior to the surgery, the colon prep and surgical prep limited me to clear liquids. Now that I'm post surgery, I'm on a somewhat contentious progression back to real food: "clear sips," liquids, soft foods, food. 

The problem starts with clear sips. At some point on Saturday the nurse puts a small cup of apple juice in front of me while Sib4 is down visiting. The nurse tells me to make it last two hours and Sib4 and I immediately start smirking at one another. We both know there is no way in hell that cup of liquid is going to last two hours. I don't nurse drinks.* And thirty minutes later it's gone. Happily, I'm able to convince someone to bring me more long before the two hour window has elapsed.

Things get even more interesting on Sunday. When they visit, the surgeons are impressed enough with my walking, my pain levels and the way my incision looks to leapfrog over liquids to soft foods. It's been a week since I've had solid food, so the hour it takes for verbal instruction to become a documented executable command seems interminable. But eventually, the nurse brings the "soft foods" menu.

The first item listed? A sausage and cheese omelette. Uh, no. Skipping past the omelettes, hamburgers, grilled sandwiches and other items that don't strike me as even remotely "soft," I land on cream of wheat, pudding, and a scoop of egg salad. Given a week without solid food, I'd rank this as one of the best meals I've ever had. (It's all a matter of perspective.) Unfortunately, before I can get around to ordering anything more, my hospitalist appears. She's far less impressed with my progress than the surgeons -- or at least far less willing to deviate from the clear sips, liquids, soft foods, food progression -- so she takes away my soft food menu and puts me back on liquids. At least the liquid menu still has milkshakes. 

And by the following day, the menu won't matter anyway. 


* GoLytely excepted.

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