Manna-ism

Lunch in the hospital was served by a silent woman of Arabian aspect, whom I nicknamed The Femme Falafel since the food she delivered usually resembled that Middle Eastern speciality, even though it might actually have been fish cakes or even chicken marengo. It was quite possible, therefore, that the Femme Falafel herself was not really Persian, as I imagined, but Italian or Israeli or quite possibly the progeny of Armenian refugees. She merely nodded and smiled hesitantly whenever I thanked her; uncomfortably aware that she carried consignments of tasteless, anonymous substances containing roughly fifty percent of the recommended daily allowance of gloom and despondency. She probably thought that my thanks were muttered ironically; a sort of gallows gratitude from a condemned man.
There is no reason, as far as I can see, why hospital food should be so shapeless and so bland. Surely it must take a reverse alchemical process of some magnitude to transform golden carrots into base, colorless root vegetables. Incalculable time and effort must be exerted turning the fruits of the sea into the prunes of the kitchen, and yet hospital cooks accomplish such a feat with apparent ease. For pudding there is a choice of transparent sponge or jellied tap water. "Food dolorous food," the patients want to sing, paraphrasing the cast of Oliver despite lacking the energy to dance as well. "Gray cabbage and beige chard."
An old proverb claims of medicine: if it tastes bad then it must be good for you. This is fine for cough syrup and other drugs, but why must the awful flavor be included in the hospital menus also? I suppose I could ask the Femme Falafel, but I assume that she would simply draw a discreet veil over the subject.

Comments

[Giric]

The surest sign of significant medical improvement is in direct correlation to the loudness of a patients complaints about the quality of the food he is being given. That is not to say that I do not whole-heartily agree with your assessment of institution food in general. I am happy to know that you have achieved that state of vigor which takes note of the finer things in life and is insulted by the unpalatable glarb that is being passed off as food in hospitals across America today. How can a man hope to recover if fed slop and MSG infused animal by-products. It is no wonder the bowels revolt.
In my own small world of excitement this week I survived a visit to the ER of our local establishment, not for the sake of myself, but for that of my grandson and daughter. The grandson taking his first, and hopefully last, flight head over heels down their staircase. She in swift flight of rescue after, slipped on the bottom stair, landing full weight, wrong, on her right foot, breaking it in the process. He turned out right as rain, much to all of our relief, but she will be six weeks in a cast and on crutches. Such is the twisted fate of life. One moment you are peaches the next you are creamed.
Please continue to improve rapidly, and get back on your feet.
P.S. As to the bowel issue, I am a firm believer in the use of magnesium powder, you can buy it, at Amazon.com, under the name of a product called, "Calm." It is great for what ails you and won't interact badly with meds. I use it for my extensive list of allergies but a side benefit is a very regular bowel. CHEERS!

[Mia Wolff]

am glad to see that your sense of humor has risen again to skewer all and everything within reach...may the geography in thrall to your wit's weapon grow ever wider

[Irene]

Even if she were Persian, she wouldn't be of Arabian aspect. Mr. Fez, I thought you knew everything.

[American fez]

Ah yes, that's very true. I deserve the scolding. All I can claim in my defence is that that I was thinking of the falafel, which is Ottomaic, pan-eastern in my mind and so I jumbled all those peoples up.