When I talk to my visitors about my stay in the hospital, the food inevitably will come up in the conversation. Unlike a movie theatre, I am allowed outside food and drinks. I could even have it delivered if I loiter by the nurse's station to pay for it.
I think a lot of people don't realize that I am given a menu in the morning to pick my meals. The menu lays out exactly what I will be consuming for the day. Baring in mind that I am attempting to add some weight to the baby, some of the meals leave a lot to be desired from a caloric perspective. This drives me to the patient kitchen for snacks in the afternoon and evening or the generous flow of treats my guests bring me, to pad out what I am lacking. Especially when I don't get what I ordered.
Yes. This has happened a fewtimes now.
I understand that if I choose to leave the hospital grounds to have a nice meal at the Keg, I am doing so against medical advice. Since I am curious about this whole parenting thing, I heed the advice and stay on the hospital grounds. Having said that, I really hate it when I am actually looking forward to a meal only to have it not materialize. In it's place I have received meat like substance, powdered potatoes, faux gravy, an apple, apple juice, cream of celery soup, well you get the idea.
When faced with a 4-6 week hospital stay, you have to take it a day or meal at a time. Having meals that I choose means something to look forward to three times a day. The weekly menu is the same. Fridays are all about Turkey (log) and faux gravy or Spinach and Cheese Ravioli. Or should I say, fantasy Ravioli since for the past 2 weeks I have received the disappointing (not to mention gross) alternative: The near turkey and packet gravy. If Chef Gordon Ramsay lifted the lid off of my platter he would surly burst into a song of coloured speech so foul, it would wilt my flowers.
I am not expecting the hospital to be the recipient of a Michelin Star. Far from it. But I do expect that my order be filled so I can find out how good or bad their packet ravioli tastes.
Worse is that the medical staff, that take care of me, and I joke around about the food. My OB and I have come to the conclusion that no real eggs were harmed in the making of my scrambled eggs. The nurses strongly suggest bringing in my own food. Especially when I tell them that I didn't get what I asked for. I don't do this in the typical whiny patient manner either. I am far too engaging to be one of those patients.
The pink frosting on this shit cake is that I actually filled in a survey regarding the mediocre excuse they call "food" and then at the very next meal did not receive the meal I had so hoped to have (stupid turkey log). Back to the survey. They received high marks on the people who deliver my food and it was downhill from there. They asked for suggestions, which I gave my two cents about diversifying the protein at breakfast to include sausage and bacon (even if it has to be turkey).
I am hoping that my survey wasn't a waste of time.
At the end of the day the best way for me to cope with the food is to just bring in my own. The added bonus is the extra calories for the baby. Or to pad out my post pregnancy before picture.
Perhaps AHS needs to hire someone who actually worked in the food industry as a chef who actually cares about the quality of food, the flavours and that variety is the spice of life. Failing that I know a couple of lovely aunts who would utterly rock the food in this place. I have never been more jealous of the elderly people in the home they work in.
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