There are times in our lives in which we don't get to eat as we would like. Illness can get in the way. When my wife wasn't subsisting on IV fluids during her stent with the severe Hyperemesis Gravidarum (look it up) that accompanied both pregnancies, she enjoyed small amounts of boiled chicken, green beans and pound cake daily. My son, as with many young struggling college students got quite creative with the 5 and 6 for a buck packages of Ramen noodles. During earlier time in our lives, we also stretched our budgets along with our culinary skills with the likes of cheap hot dogs, Spam, an instant Kraft noodle dinner we affectionately called "chicken glop", and the proverbial pinto beans.
Lately, my wife and I, along with many in her family have been entertaining foodlike substances which we would not regularly ingest if left to our own choices. My Mother-in-law, Cindy, has been in the hospital truly fighting for her life after complications developed from what was supposed to be a "slam dunk" surgery almost four weeks ago. She has been spending more days in the surgical intensive care unit (SICU) than out of it for the duration of her stay. With this being the case, the whole family around her has focused their lives on being at the hospital with her whenever possible. Children have flown in from out of town, regular job schedules have been scrambled and rearranged to allow for time at the hospital to support Cindy and each other through this ordeal. With this being the case, many of the regular parts of "easy" day to day life have been set aside. Houses may not be as clean. Laundry may not be caught up. Groceries may not be bought, or at best grabbed little by little as truly needed. One of the most neglected parts of our lives recently has been cooking and eating regular meals.
My wife, Gayle and I have been eating way too many "deli" sandwiches lately. Now when I say "deli" sandwiches, I don't mean high end deli sandwiches. There's a reason I put the "deli" in quotation marks. I'm not talking that classy, up scale little deli you pass on the way home. I'm not even talking Jimmy Johns, or down the scale to Subway here. I'm talking about prepackaged sandwiches which you can buy at the hospital snack bar/coffee shop/ deli or worse. By worse I mean quick shop type places, gas stations, roach coaches, and heaven forbid the ubiquitous carousel vending machine standing always at the ready when nothing else is open or available.
Gayle and I seldom share a meal at home on week days lately as she heads to the hospital immediately after work while I head home to take care of the pets. Not wanting to waste precious time she usually grabs a sandwich at the hospital snack bar. As for me, not wanting to waste effort on preparing a full meal for myself alone, I usually forage or grab something more or less grotesque on the way home. I have, however been to the hospital enough to sample just about all of their deli meat, cheese and bread combinations. Honestly the sandwiches at the snack bar are not bad for the first 5 or six times one uses them as a substitute for sustenance, but they do start to wear on a person. The price tag wears on the pocket book as well. Five bucks a pop seems a bit extravagant for what you get.
To try and vary the selection as well as mitigate the damage to our budget, we have tried other options to the snack bar. The quick stop type shops--with attached gas pumps or not--between us and the hospital have produced lunch or dinner with differing levels of satisfaction or complaint. All I can say is you gotta watch the dates. As the under-inspired, underpaid employees don't seem to care much about stock rotation or clearance, you have to not only know what day it is, but what month, and sometimes what year. Just the other day, as I was quite late in getting to the hospital, and needing gas anyway, I stepped in to peruse their bread wrapped offerings. I had already picked out a reasonable offering with an acceptable date stamp on it when I looked down and found some marked down sandwiches. It makes one wonder how old a sandwich has to be in a place like this to earn it a place in the marked down bin, but I digress. Considering the Dirty Harry question of "do you feel lucky?" I honestly could answer for that day that yes, in fact, I did feel lucky. I probably wouldn't need this extra sandwich this evening, but just in case I did, it didn't look that bad, and the price was right if I ended up discarding it. So out I went with my hospital dinner for the night.
The waiting room for us has taken on quite a communal atmosphere at times as we sit around and take turns stepping in to visit Cindy. Fresh baked Molly Muffins are shared. Muchies of different types get passed around. Chewy candies, licorice, and gummy bears all get shared. As the day passed, I realized that though I had brought two sandwiches, I was lacking something to drink. Not wanting something with caffeine, my sister-in-law, Ruth, offered an extra soft drink matching my requirements. That's the way it has developed lately. Later I tried to return the favor. Ruth realized that she was hungry for something more substantial than the usual finger fare and the snack bar had just closed for the day. It being my turn to commune with the family, I offered my second (reduced) sandwich.
Ruth has a bit of a particular taste but the circumstances lately must have worked to temper her culinary requirements. She reached for the sandwich, then noticed the marked down price. Drawing her hand back slightly, she remembered her hunger and the distance from better options. She gave the sandwich another look. "What kind of lettuce is that?" she queried?
"The green stuff? I think it's ham," I said.
"Oh," she winced, "well, at least the guacamole looks good."
"That's mayo," I corrected.
She really must have been hungry. She took it anyway. Not really. She decided to live with her hunger, which was OK by me. I ate it today while on my way to the hospital on my lunch break.
Oh, well. It's hard to be too choosy or to complain too much lately. With Cindy still being fed through a tube, our little discomforts really don't seem that great. Here's looking forward to the day she can share a "deli" sandwich with us all.
Lately, my wife and I, along with many in her family have been entertaining foodlike substances which we would not regularly ingest if left to our own choices. My Mother-in-law, Cindy, has been in the hospital truly fighting for her life after complications developed from what was supposed to be a "slam dunk" surgery almost four weeks ago. She has been spending more days in the surgical intensive care unit (SICU) than out of it for the duration of her stay. With this being the case, the whole family around her has focused their lives on being at the hospital with her whenever possible. Children have flown in from out of town, regular job schedules have been scrambled and rearranged to allow for time at the hospital to support Cindy and each other through this ordeal. With this being the case, many of the regular parts of "easy" day to day life have been set aside. Houses may not be as clean. Laundry may not be caught up. Groceries may not be bought, or at best grabbed little by little as truly needed. One of the most neglected parts of our lives recently has been cooking and eating regular meals.
My wife, Gayle and I have been eating way too many "deli" sandwiches lately. Now when I say "deli" sandwiches, I don't mean high end deli sandwiches. There's a reason I put the "deli" in quotation marks. I'm not talking that classy, up scale little deli you pass on the way home. I'm not even talking Jimmy Johns, or down the scale to Subway here. I'm talking about prepackaged sandwiches which you can buy at the hospital snack bar/coffee shop/ deli or worse. By worse I mean quick shop type places, gas stations, roach coaches, and heaven forbid the ubiquitous carousel vending machine standing always at the ready when nothing else is open or available.
Gayle and I seldom share a meal at home on week days lately as she heads to the hospital immediately after work while I head home to take care of the pets. Not wanting to waste precious time she usually grabs a sandwich at the hospital snack bar. As for me, not wanting to waste effort on preparing a full meal for myself alone, I usually forage or grab something more or less grotesque on the way home. I have, however been to the hospital enough to sample just about all of their deli meat, cheese and bread combinations. Honestly the sandwiches at the snack bar are not bad for the first 5 or six times one uses them as a substitute for sustenance, but they do start to wear on a person. The price tag wears on the pocket book as well. Five bucks a pop seems a bit extravagant for what you get.
To try and vary the selection as well as mitigate the damage to our budget, we have tried other options to the snack bar. The quick stop type shops--with attached gas pumps or not--between us and the hospital have produced lunch or dinner with differing levels of satisfaction or complaint. All I can say is you gotta watch the dates. As the under-inspired, underpaid employees don't seem to care much about stock rotation or clearance, you have to not only know what day it is, but what month, and sometimes what year. Just the other day, as I was quite late in getting to the hospital, and needing gas anyway, I stepped in to peruse their bread wrapped offerings. I had already picked out a reasonable offering with an acceptable date stamp on it when I looked down and found some marked down sandwiches. It makes one wonder how old a sandwich has to be in a place like this to earn it a place in the marked down bin, but I digress. Considering the Dirty Harry question of "do you feel lucky?" I honestly could answer for that day that yes, in fact, I did feel lucky. I probably wouldn't need this extra sandwich this evening, but just in case I did, it didn't look that bad, and the price was right if I ended up discarding it. So out I went with my hospital dinner for the night.
The waiting room for us has taken on quite a communal atmosphere at times as we sit around and take turns stepping in to visit Cindy. Fresh baked Molly Muffins are shared. Muchies of different types get passed around. Chewy candies, licorice, and gummy bears all get shared. As the day passed, I realized that though I had brought two sandwiches, I was lacking something to drink. Not wanting something with caffeine, my sister-in-law, Ruth, offered an extra soft drink matching my requirements. That's the way it has developed lately. Later I tried to return the favor. Ruth realized that she was hungry for something more substantial than the usual finger fare and the snack bar had just closed for the day. It being my turn to commune with the family, I offered my second (reduced) sandwich.
Ruth has a bit of a particular taste but the circumstances lately must have worked to temper her culinary requirements. She reached for the sandwich, then noticed the marked down price. Drawing her hand back slightly, she remembered her hunger and the distance from better options. She gave the sandwich another look. "What kind of lettuce is that?" she queried?
"The green stuff? I think it's ham," I said.
"Oh," she winced, "well, at least the guacamole looks good."
"That's mayo," I corrected.
She really must have been hungry. She took it anyway. Not really. She decided to live with her hunger, which was OK by me. I ate it today while on my way to the hospital on my lunch break.
Oh, well. It's hard to be too choosy or to complain too much lately. With Cindy still being fed through a tube, our little discomforts really don't seem that great. Here's looking forward to the day she can share a "deli" sandwich with us all.
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