My Hospital Food Theory

You know how everyone complains about how bad hospital food is? My hospital food theory goes like this:

- The average length of a hospital stay is something like three days.

- On a minimal budget, food preparation has to take into account allergies and dietary preferences for hundreds of people.

- Therefore, food preparation is kept as simple as possible, and is not nutritionally optimized because it is cheaper and the patients, on average, will only eat it for a short period of time.

So...this poses a problem for longer term patients. Like those in a psych ward.

I personally had no issue with the food when I was hospitalized. I was hungry all the time, and probably would have eaten kibble if someone had served it to me. I barely ate any of my desserts - I saved those for my seven-year-old son when he came to visit. It was the only special thing I could do for him.

After sampling food at several hospitals, I've noticed some things that make me raise my eyebrows (thank god they grew back). These are the questions I would like someday to ask a hospital administrator:

1. Why do you serve white bread instead of whole wheat?

2. Why is the rice always white?

3. Why are salads made with iceberg lettuce with high calorie dressing, and not a selection of dark, leafy greens with a vinaigrette?

4. Why serve reheated, battered fish sticks instead of plain fish?

5.  Do you know that mashed potatoes, while technically a vegetable, are really a carb?

You know what's funny? While I was hospitalized I met the hospital dietician (when I was trying to convince her that I was not a cardiac patient). I asked her for recommendations for my diet at home when I was discharged. She said (I'm not making this up), "Stay away from starches like white bread, white rice and mashed potatoes - opt for versions with more fibre, like whole wheat bread and brown rice. Stay away from fried and battered foods. Finally, make sure you eat lots of vegetables. An easy way to get variety is to buy a package of the dark greens at the supermaket, and have that as your salad."

If you do (and I hope you don't) have to spend any significant amount of time in a hospital, make sure you have a friend who will "run food" for you. Like drugs and therapy, fresh fruit and vegetables will make a big difference in your recovery.

Whoops - got to go. I've got a bunch of tater-tots cooking in the oven, and the toast has popped.

I'm making a bacon sandwich.



Mmmmmm...dairy product...

My Unintended Weight-Loss Plan

Since there were no snacks on the ward (see How I Stopped a Stalker for details), the only food I got was what came on my tray three times a day, and a small snack at bedtime  (usually a piece of fruit). These portions I carefully guarded - they weren't much. When I looked around the room, everyone else seemed to have more food, and a greater variety of things. But I was sedated, and didn't feel like complaining.

The nurses weighed me after my first three weeks as part of a general check up. I was pleased to see that I had lost ten pounds. I was getting fit! But they were concerned.

"Are you eating all of your meals?"

"Are you kidding?" I replied. "The food is crap, but I'm hungry all the time."

"We're going to make an appointment with a physician and a dietician to find out what's wrong. This shouldn't be happening, even if you are walking a lot"

"I think I'm just not getting enough food," I said. But procedures had to be followed.

First a doctor gave me a physical, and everything looked fine.

It was many days before I was seen by the dietician.

She showed up with a file. "So, Mr. Stainton, what would you like to see me about today?"

I told her about losing weight, being hungry, and the blandness of the food.

She made some notes, and looked in the file.

"Well according to the doctor, you've been diagnosed with a bit of a heart condition. So this is an appropriate diet; and losing a few pounds through exercise will certainly help."

My mind reeled. I felt dizzy. Suddenly I noticed that my heart DID feel funny. Oh my god.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nobody told me that I had a heart condition," I stammered.

The dietician left the room and went to the nursing station. She returned with a different file.

"I'm sorry. Some files got mixed up. We had you on a strict cardiac diet. We'll give you more and better food now."

After that I ate better, although I wondered if the jolt of that news had given me an actual heart condition.

And I still wonder if there is a cardiac patient out there with the last name Stainton who, for three weeks, ate better than anyobody else on his ward.